Open Your Eyes
Chapter 1
All this feels strange and untrue
And I won't waste a minute without you
My bones ache, my skin feels cold
And I'm getting so tired and so old
Open Your Eyes-Snow Patrol
Fuck.
The expletive practically rings in her head, but she whispers it anyway.
Her cranium is swelling with pain and she can only gasp and groan as reality slowly comes into focus.
What the hell happened?
Gasping for breath through the still thick fog clouding her consciousness, she hears a voice.
"Hey, hey, hey it's okay."
She moves then, hitting the unknown, but solid form behind her. When had it gotten there? Who……?
"Hey. It's alright, it's okay."
Jack.
She relaxes minutely as soon as the voice registers. It was Jack, her friend, protector and if she was honest, the focus of all her lustful thoughts.
He's still talking to her, moving her arm as if he was trying to get her to turn towards him. He must be crazy. The pain in her head has now given way to an intense nausea threatened by any sort of movement. If she could actually form words she would tell him, but her voice left as soon as the pain had appeared.
"It's okay. Alright, come on. Just take it easy."
He has control now; already he's managed to move her onto her back and has checked her eyes for some unknown indication of okay-ness. She groans again as she blinks her eyes open permanently, no longer clothed in a peaceful darkness. The jungle seems louder somehow, every sound amplified to an uncomfortable decibel.
"I'll go get her some water."
Juliet? Jack and Juliet together? She writes off the implications as momentarily unimportant because Jack is pulling her into a sitting position, his arm supporting her back.
"What happened?"
He didn't even seem surprised at her circumstances. Was she really always this prone to trouble? She wants to answer the question. Conversing with him in any manner now is a pleasure she holds onto selfishly. However, her grasp of the English language escapes her, his arms offering a pleasurable distraction. When was the last time he had touched her this intimately? Oh, yes, it was when she stole the Satellite Phone out of his back pocket. Didn't that just define their relationship?
Glancing at her surroundings, it registers that he is waiting for a response.
"I was going back to the beach and," she pauses then; dizziness overpowering her need to explain. Managing it she continues, "I ran into Faraday and that woman um?"
Name, what was her name? It was probably the concussion, but the little detail escaping her was annoying and disconcerting. Cherry? No….it was like a….a.. character in a book or something. What was it? Charlene? No. No. Charlotte. It was Charlotte!
"Charlotte."
After spitting out the name her hand finds it way back to her head delving into a sticky substance. Was that blood? It wouldn't surprise her. She had handled enough guns in her time to know that the business end of them could do significant damage.
Gently, his hand wraps around hers, lightly detaching it from her hair, only to replace it with a rag. The tender spot pulses slightly louder when he adds pressure to it, but she ignores it. She wouldn't risk making him remove his hands.
Abruptly, a question comes to her, and she finds that she mutters it out loud before her brain can stop it.
"Why did she hit me?"
What had she been talking to Faraday about that would have made Charlotte respond with violence? Before she can voice her second question Jack attempts to put the pieces together.
"They disappeared out of camp last night. We've been trying to catch up to them."
They. Jack and Juliet. Together.
She fought down another bout of nausea.
"Do you know where they were headed?"
He was searching for something in his backpack now. Distracted, his answer comes in broken segments.
"Some sorta..."
He unzips another compartment.
"Power station."
Power station? Why would they need? Wait, gas masks. She had found gas masks in Faradays bag!
"Jack?"
He finally meets her eyes, apparently giving up on his search through the tattered bag.
"They had gas masks."
She watches his face as close as her eyes will allow. Waiting for a reaction or indication of what they should do next. His answer is worse than another blow to the head.
"Juliet?"
Of course he would call for her. She was his new other half. His partner in crime. Goose to his Maverick. White to her rice….she stops when she sees him move to get up, still calling her name.
"Juliet!"
She can't choose which hurts her the most, the throbbing head wound, his sudden lack of concern for her, or, probably worst of all, the fact that it is all fundamentally her fault.
She was truly and rightfully fucked.
The anger swells in my gut
And I won't feel these slices and cuts
I want so much to open your eyes
Cos I need you to look into mine...