Jay doesn't touch the food on his plate. He feels sick to his stomach, but forces himself to at least take a bite of the gnocchi that are for dinner.
It's silent, aside from the clinking of fine silverware on expensive China. He doesn't need to look up to be able to tell that both his father and his sister are staring at him.
What do they see when they look at him? Do they still see the old Jay? Or do they see a stranger? Because that's what Jay feels like when he's looking in the mirror. Like he's looking at a stranger. A sleep-deprived, completely lost stranger.
He lifts his head a bit, looking at his sister. Johanna. She's approximately four years younger than him and currently in college, but from the way she talks, you'd assume she's much older. A clever girl, really.
Jay remembers seeing her for the first time. Or rather, seeing her for the first time after what was apparently an accident, even if that's still hard for him to realize.
She was crying when she came up to his hospital bed, sat down at the edge of it and tried to hug him. And Jay squinted back. Stranger. Too close. That made her cry even harder.
His father, on the other hand, was much more collected. Cold, almost. He just stood next to the bed and explained calmly what kind of life Jay lived. That he was twenty-four years old and that his brother Jonas couldn't be there because he was currently busy with his job somewhere in Detroit and that his mother died a few years ago.
That's what drags him down the most. That he will never have any memories with his mother.
His mind is a blank slate. He knows basic facts. He knows that Obama is the president and how to play the bass line of Lemon Tree. But he wouldn't recognize his childhood friends if they stood right in front of him.
All he has are these false memories of investigating that weird faceless thing.
And Tim. Oh God. Tim. He hasn't spoken to him yet, because he hasn't dared to call him, but Jay knows it's inevitable. He just HAS to speak to him. Hear his voice. Know he's alright. Even if it's foolish. They might not even really know each other. It'd probably be the most awkward conversation of his life - as far as he knows - but Tim's name was the first thing Jay searched for when looking through his contacts. He doesn't even care if he feels stupid for it. This is important to him, even if Tim did behave like an ass from time to time.
Jessica. He has to talk to Jessica, see if she's okay. But he doesn't have her number. Hell, he doesn't even know if she's REAL. It makes him feel like an idiot, really. He's been feeling like an idiot a lot lately. Because he can't let go of that dream, even if it's breaking him.
He saw his father in his suit one morning and freaked out. Whenever he hears the floorboards creaking or the wind howl outside, he feels uneasy. He paces the room, again and again, because he's restless. He constantly looks over his shoulder. Whenever he hears or sees static, wether it's on the radio or the TV, he can't help but flinch. His side hurts where his body collided with the ground and he knows it's just a bruise, but to him, it feels like a bullet wound.
He feels foolish. So foolish.
Especially after that one ... incident. The first time he saw Alex, right before taking to his family.
Jay remembers screaming at Alex as soon as he entered, saying that this was his fault, that he was a murderer, that he despised him and never wanted to see him again. He remembers threatening Alex, saying that if he didn't have all these needles sticking in his veins, he would get up and punch him right in the face. He remembers the salty taste of angry tears on his face and he remembers seeing these exact same tears on Alex's face. Except for the fact that the anger wasn't directed towards Jay. His eyes were full of self-hatred.
He tried to apologise, a small, hoarse "I'm sorry" leaving his lips and it only made Jay more disgusted. Nurses were rushing in, trying their best to calm him down, but he didn't stop throwing insults in Alex's direction, spatting every word like something poisonous.
Jay ate more of his gnocchi, immediately taking a huge sip of water to push back the urge to vomit.
Johanna's soft voice can be heard from the other side of the table and Jay's head perks up. He's just glad for the distraction. "I'll drive you to your first therapy session tomorrow. And after that, how about I show you around here and show you a few places we often visited as kids? Do you think that would help?"
Jay shrugs. He really doesn't know. He doesn't know ANYTHING for that matter, but he decides to roll with it. Because from the tone in her voice, filled with desperate hope (or maybe hopeful desperation?) it's clear how much she wants this to work. It's the last straw for her to hold onto. He doesn't want to take that from her.
Jay gazes around the dining room, with its fancy furniture and he doesn't feel at home. He feels like a guest. Like an intruder. Like an imposter. Because he's not what they want him to be. He's everyone but Jay Merrick.
He can't help but think of Alex again, about the tears wettening his cheekbones. And he meets Johanna's eyes and realizes, this is harder for them than it is for him.