A/N: Yes, I understand that I am a terrible, horrible person 1) making a oneshot while I should be writing the next chapter to ANY of my stories; 2) making such a short oneshot; and 3) getting this out about three months late. So yeah, I apologize. A lot. On a different note, this entire fic was inspired by Coldplay's Viva la Vida cd. They are amazing, as usual. :)
Disclaimer: He sits on my shelves.
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On September 11 of every year since 2001, Jack sat herself down and cried. Alex sat with her, and held her so that she didn't feel too alone.
Every year it got better, the crying lessened, and Jack learned to grow strong as Alex went through the hardest time of his life. He wasn't there one year, and Jack…
It had been a bad day. As it was the three-year anniversary of her father's death, it kind of meant something.
But when Alex came back and asked her how it went, she smiled and said, "Better than usual. It's getting better."
But it wasn't. And every year Alex wasn't there, it got worse.
It happened the year he was fourteen through the year he was seventeen, and living on his own in a flat in London.
For once, Alex didn't have a mission he had to go on, so he came over, even though Jack said that she had to be completely cured of it.
He came over around one in the afternoon to find the television on, the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream at melting point, and Jack sobbing numbly into a pillow.
"Jack?" he'd called out. "Are you there?"
"No," came the muffled reply. Alex moved into the living room to see the chaos that was an upset Jack.
"I thought you said you were getting better. That you were better," Alex stated accusingly.
"You were a-always so busy… I didn't think it'd b-be imp-portant for you to know…" she trailed off through a flurry of hiccups.
"I'll be right back."
He moved into the kitchen, disappearing from Jack's view. When he returned, he held an Advil and a big glass of water. Jack gratefully accepted.
They sit together for a while, while Pride and Prejudice goes on in the background.
"You could have asked me to be there," Alex said after a while.
"Play for us, please."
"What – just called you up and said 'Hey, Al, I'm not doing so well, so could you come here for a day? You could get back to your little whatever-it-is after, just stay for an eensy-weeny bit'?" she said back.
"Oh – I could never."
"For one thing, I don't think you'd ever say 'eensy-weeny'," he said without amusement.
"Please do. There are very few people in England who have as good taste in music as I."
"Why do you even watch this stuff? Why not just read the book?" Alex asked, changing focus to the telly.
"Have you ever even seen this movie? It's amazing," Jack said back, wiping her face a little.
"Well, I'd rather watch Iron Man," Alex mockingly bit back, and there was a hint of charm.
"You wouldn't," she hissed.
"Au contraire."
And Alex put in a different movie.
"How dare you!"
"Why didn't you stop me?"
"I couldn't exactly do that when you were holding me back!"
"Was I?"
"I distinctly remember you tickling me while I was trying to stop your hand from ejecting my movie."
"I can't seem to remember anything that happened in the past five minutes."
"You are such a loser sometimes," Jack said, smiling for the first time that day. She felt relieved and light-hearted now that Alex was there.
And she felt guilty about that, as she should be in mourning.
Alex, sensing the remorse, said, "It happened a long time ago. Forgive yourself, please, so I can watch the movie. I heard that lots of things blow up in this one."
And Jack started to not blame herself. After all, it wasn't her fault that her daddy used to work at the Pentagon. Or that terrorists had blown up his office, and had been on a phone call to her mother when it happened. It really wasn't her fault.
And Jack started to feel a little better.
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Sorry. I know it kind of sucked turkeys (Happy belated Thanksgiving, by the way). Tell me how sucky it was in a review?
