Ceasefire
Jack sits on the sofa across from her, silently staring into his glass of scotch. He looks older than she's ever seen him, and today, more than ever, she can see John behind his eyes. See him, and hear him in every word his son speaks.
For once, she feels no animosity watching him. He's been her lover, her rival, her stepson, her business partner, her ally, and her worst enemy. But today? Today he's her family. Today he's the one person who really, truly, understands where she's at. Today, he's her brother.
"He'd be proud of you, Jack," she says aloud, tears pricking at the back of her eyes, remembering his hand on her shoulder as they faced the television cameras, his voice strong as he pled with the public for information about Delia's hit and run. "Today, you were the man he raised you to be."
She knows his grief could easily mould offense from her words, especially her words, but she hopes he'll just accept them in the spirit in which they were intended. Neither of them is up for a fight.
His eyes flick to hers. He nods once and then looks away, raising his glass to his lips.
She sips from her own glass. And then sips again. A little girl spins around just outside the periphery of her vision.
"He'd be proud of you too, Jill." He sounds almost surprised, but she doesn't mind. She's never given anyone much reason for pride.
"You're being the mother Billy needs to get him through this," he continues. "He'd be glad for that."
She smiles sadly. "I haven't always been."
Jack doesn't respond. They both know it's true. Polite denials are for other people, not people like them.
He sets his empty glass on the table and rises. "It's late. I should get going. Thanks for the drink, Jill."
She stands and follows him wordlessly to the door. His hand is on the doorknob, his wrist already half twisted when he lets go and turns back around. He opens his arms to her and she falls into them, clinging tightly.
"I miss them, Jack," she says, voice thick with tears. "So much."
She can feel his head nodding beside her own, as his hand glides up and down her back. "I do too. I wish he could have known Delia. And I wish she could have known him."
She pulls back slightly, patting his cheek with her palm, wiping away a tear with her thumb. "I'm choosing to believe they're together now."
She's not a religious person, but she has to believe there's more to life than this. She'd go crazy if she didn't.
Jack nods, then bends down and kisses her cheek. "I think you're right. Good night, Jill. Try to get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."
"I'll try," she says, though she knows she won't. "Good night, Jack." She takes a step backward, wrapping her arms around herself, suddenly cold.
He half turns to the door, then clearing his throat, turns back. When he speaks, once again she can feel John behind his words.
"You know Jill, if Dad were still alive, I think he'd be seeing you in a new light these days. Or rather, in a new, old light. It may not mean much to you, but I think this time I'd approve."
He's gone before she can speak.
Closing the door behind him, she leans up against it, tears welling up for possibly the millionth time that day.
It means a lot.
A/N: Just a little ficlet based on the previews for next week (10/21/13). Note that I'm just coming back to Y&R after a 20+ year absence and I don't really know the state of Jill and Jack's relationship, so it's quite possible this is way off. Call it AU if you like. I hope you enjoy it in spite of that.