AN: Hey everybody, sorry this has taken so long. I could give you the usual excuses of finals, homework, and research projects, and they'd all be correct, but so would writers' block and procrastination.
I just want to thank you for sticking with me.
I was going to wait to publish this, but then I realized I'd be hitting you with something over 10,000 words. So despite my wishes to wrap this episode up in less than five chapters, it's gonna be five chapters. I have time now to write, though, so I'll do my best to get it up soon!
Read and review as always, and if you spot any mistakes, shoot me a message. I proofread this at 3 last night.
Nathan watched in horror as the discharge from the pulse gun ricocheted from Carlson's hand and slammed into Jack's chest, throwing fire across his body. He was frozen, stunned, his mind failing to process and suddenly he was on the ground, Jack's head and torso cradled in his lap.
He looked down at the form of the man who was fast becoming more than a friend and felt gorge rise in his throat. The pulse had seared through Jack's shirt and undershirt, melting the poly blends to his skin before burning away the flesh and muscle, leaving sternum and broken ribs and viscera exposed. Like this, Nathan could see Jack's heart.
It wasn't beating.
He felt a wash of terror burn though him as if he had been the one struck. He jockeyed Jack further into his lap and felt for breath coming from his nose.
Nothing.
He looked up, mind racing as he took in the shocked crowd and the silent SWAT team. "Someone do something!" he commanded. "Someone call an ambulance!"
Carlson stepped forward, gold swirling around his irises. "It's too late for the doctors to do anything."
He placed his hand on the singed bones of Jack's chest and gold light, like the light swirling in his eyes, like the light filling the Artifact chamber, twisted out from under his palm and curled into the burn. The light wrapped around his hear and then for a moment, seemed to constrict. Jack's heart gave a few fluttering beats beneath his ribs before stilling again.
"I'm not close enough," Carlson said, looking up at him, an odd multiplicity echoing in his voice, just present enough that Nathan could barely detect it. "I need to get closer."
Nathan nodded, pain and fear clenching in his chest.
Jack couldn't die. It'd kill Nathan.
Losing his best maybe-more-than friend would be as hard as losing his son.
"Get closer to what?" Allison asked.
"Classified," he growled before wrestling Jack's limp form into his arms and standing, walking gingerly back to his BMW. The doors unlatched and sprang open without anyone touching them. As carefully as he could, he strong-armed Jack into the back seat.
He stared, bile rising in his throat at the sight of Jack's blood, thick, sluggish, and almost black from hypoxia oozing out onto the white leather of the back seats. A hand gripped his shoulder and he turned to see Carlson looking at him with his unsettling gold eyes.
"I will keep Jack here. You get us to the Artifact."
Nathan blinked at him, then stepped around him toward the driver's door. He flinched as the car's ignition turned over and started without him pressing the ignition on his keys. He turned to stare at Carlson, but the short man was paying no attention to him, rather, was telekinetically lifting Jack's chest to slide underneath him.
"You need to drive, Nathan," Carlson said, smoothing the hair off Jack's forehead. "I cannot keep him here for too long."
Nathan nodded wordlessly and punched the accelerator, forcing people to throw themselves out of his way as the car shot forward. He forced his mind to go blank, not thinking about anything, rather focusing only on the road and trying to stay on it.
Weaving his car in and out of traffic on the narrow road to Global Dynamics, he made it to the parking lot and turned off the car. Nathan flung himself out of the front seat and dashed to yank the door open before Carlson could telekinetically do it. What he saw made him stop.
Carlson was sitting with his head bowed, eyes closed as he cradled Jack's head in his lap. One hand rested on Jack's forehead, swirling with gold light. The other was inside the wound in Jack's chest. The same gold light twisted wildly from the fingertips into and out of the hole, appearing to caress Jack's heart and organs as it danced passed before flickering over the surface of his skin like electricity.
Nathan's thoughts skittered across his consciousness like the light across Jack's skin and he found himself incapable of latching onto a single one.
Jack couldn't be dead. That was the only thing that was obvious against the panicked white field of his mind. He coul-
Carlson's head snapped up sharply and Nathan found himself staring into two swirling orbs of liquid gold that arched and flared beyond their proper boundaries. Nathan shivered in fear as he got the distinct feeling that Carlson was looking into them. "There is no time for panic, Nathan Stark." Carlson's voice sounded like a thousand people speaking all at once and every single hair on Nathan's body stood on end.
"He is slipping away, Nathan Stark, you must hurry."
Nathan nodded then bent, and with help from Carlson's telekinesis, pulled Jack from the car. Carefully but quickly he swung Jack into his arms and carried him in through the front doors of Global Dynamics.
People scattered in front of him, some seeing him and stumbling back with white-faced shock, others appearing to be knocked back out of his way by visible distortions in the air. The scientists cleared a path to the elevator without needing to be directed and Nathan rushed across the lobby, Jack's arm slipping off his torso to bounce limply with every step Nathan took.
Out of the corner of his eye, Nathan could see Carlson gliding alongside him, the gold light whipping around him in tendrils, distortions in in the air making it hard to look at him.
The elevator doors dinged open without anyone pressing the call button and Nathan had to turn sideways to get Jack in the elevator without hitting his head or feet on the sides of the elevator. The doors slid shut and Carlson reached out and pressed the button for Section 5.
"Fingerprint not recognized," a computerized voice said, "Access-"
"Voiceprint recognize:" Nathan barked, "Director Stark, Nathan; emergency security code: Alpha-two-niner-niner-five-Echo-Kilo-November-Sierra."
"Voiceprint recognized: Director of Global Dynamics, Nathan Stark. Emergency access granted."
The car jerked and began to descend, emergency code moving the car much faster than normal. Still, as Nathan looked down at Jack's face, muscles gone lax, not dancing through their usual range of expressivity, he felt an urgency, terrible and consuming pressing behind his eyes, in his throat.
God, no, please.
Jack couldn't be dead. Nathan couldn't imagine a world where Jack didn't exist.
The elevator dinged signaling their floor, and the doors dissolved into a swirl of glowing white particles. Nathan blinked, then shot out of the elevator, turning sideways again to keep from injuring Jack. He raced down the hall, the wait in the elevator grating on ruined nerves.
The limited AI in Section 5 tracked his progress, throwing the doors open ahead of him, leading him to the Artifact Chamber. He could feel the pulsating, distorted presence of Carlson keeping speed a stride behind him, growing stronger with every stride toward the Chamber.
The last door, the door to the shielded hallway, refused to open.
"Access denied, security code required."
Nathan nearly screamed, nearly sobbed aloud and sank to his knees. "Recognize: Emergency security code: Alpha-three-eight-seven-five-Alpha-Charlie-November-Sierra!"
"Emergency security code recognized. Access granted."
The whooping sirens started and orange lights flashed in the hall beyond as the door slid slowly open. He let out a cry of desperation at the slow speed of the door and it dissolved like the elevator doors had, in swirling white particles and he rushed through. Nathan reached the inner door, thirty inches of steel and shielding separating him from the brunt of the Artifact's radiation. He could still feel it, though, a sort of burning, pulsing, song behind his eyes.
"This is close enough." Nathan flinched and looked back at Carlson.
The man was nearly unrecognizable now, gold light shining from beneath his skin, age lines completely faded, his posture hard and completely unlike the Carlson he had seen only ten minutes previously in the town center.
"Set Jack down here," Carlson commanded, thousands of voices echoing inside his own.
Nathan complied quickly, laying Jack carefully down on the floor, and leaning him against the wall. He turned and looked up at Carlson who nodded. "Step back."
Nathan stumbled back, fell away from Jack and Carlson and watched as Carlson knelt next to Jack, next to the door. Carlson reached out, placed a hand on the door and lurched slightly as gold light pooled on the surface of the door, then streamed, twining down his arm, across his chest, then down his other arm to collect, twisting, and dripping off the palm of his hand. He paused for a heartbeat and then placed his hand on Jack's chest, on his sternum and unmoving heart.
The gold light flared, burning brightly, tendrils of it whipping out, twisting over burnt skin and exposed organs, rebuilding it as Nathan watched.
A moment and the wound was healed.
A moment and Jack sucked in a massive breath, limbs jerking and head rolling as he revived.
Nathan sobbed and sank to his knees, falling forward to catch one of Jack's hands in his own. "Jack," his voice broke on the single syllable of the name, precious, like a prayer falling from his lips. "Jack."
Jack's eyes fluttered as he looked over at the sound of his name, his breath sounding loud and joyous in the hall even over the insistent whooping of the sirens. Jack seemed disoriented, head sagging and Nathan stood, realizing that Jack had to get to the Infirmary. He reached out for Jack's other hand and pulled him up as Carlson pulled his hand from Jack's chest, revealing a small patch of burns that hadn't healed.
"Hey, welcome back, Sheriff," Carlson said softly, all multiplicity gone from his voice.
Jack slumped over, muscles still lax from death and caught himself on the floor, one hand jerking out of Nathan's grip.
"C'mon, Jack," Nathan urged, his voice suddenly, inexplicably calm, despite the storm of emotion inside. He gripped Jack's bicep, tugged him up and was glad when Carlson assisted, wedging himself under Jack's arm to help him rise.
"There you go," he said, as they stumbled back up the hall together, Jack's heart beating insistently against the hand he had on his chest. "C'mon."
His burden was suddenly heavier, Carlson having disappeared from Jack's other side, turned back down the hall, and Nathan adjusted, moving to take Jack's weight across his shoulders. He blinked at the sight of the two medics waiting at the door, and a half-memory told him that they had their own medical access codes that allowed them into any part of the building in an emergency.
"Get him to the infirmary," he commanded, "I'll be right behind in a moment." Jack would be okay for the moment. The wailing of the sirens in the hall to the Artifact told him that Carlson was still in there. Nathan turned to see the door rematerialize, glowing white particles swirling back together. He threw himself to the computer screen that monitored the feed from inside the hall.
The grey-scale images showed Carlson slowly approaching the inner door. Nathan keyed on the intercom and called, "Carlson, wait!"
The heavy inner door opened, white smoke from inside the Chamber billowing outwards. Nathan's heart raced as he realized what Carlson was about to do.
"Don't do it, Carl," he asked.
"It's going to be all right," Carlson answered, his voice echoing.
Carlson was more than halfway down the hall. "It'll destroy you," Nathan said.
"I'm not afraid."
"Carl, please," he begged, "I have to know. What is it?"
"One day you will know," Carlson answered, the light from the chamber beginning to blur out the edges of his silhouette. "Question is," he asked, "will you be ready?"
Carlson stopped on the threshold of the Chamber, door completely open, the gold light, the burning, pulsing energy of the Artifact whipping out around him, running across his back like arms beckoning him forward. Nathan had to press his fist to his mouth. He felt ill. He was about to watch a second man die that day.
And then Carlson spoke, his single, human voice clear beyond the crackle of the speakers, the cries of the sirens, the roar of the Artifact inside the Chamber.
"I am."
And then he walked in, swirling light wrapping around him, welcoming him home. The door to the Chamber slid down, blocking the sight of the faint shape of Carlson disappearing into the light of the Artefact.
Nathan jumped up, lurched to the observation window into the hall and stared at the grey door, unthinking when a voice sounded in his head.
Go to him. He needs you.
It was Carlson's voice.
Nathan needed no other urging. He spun on his heel and raced for the door.
This time, he had no need to call his security code as he sprinted through the building, long legs flying. The AIs were working together, throwing open the doors ahead of him, leading him on the shortest, fastest route to the Infirmary. Anyone in his path through the halls stumbled back against the walls at his approach, not moving from their spots until long after his passing.
He took the stairs instead of the doorless elevator, bounding up each flight two steps at a time. Nathan burst out into Section 2 and flew along the long corridors, heart racing. It seemed an eternity before he finally slid into the Infirmary, sucking hard for air like a winded horse. But when he looked around, Jack was nowhere to be seen, the only people he could see were nurses racing back and forth gathering items and equipment before darting into one of the private rooms.
Nathan stepped forward, moving toward the private room but was stopped by a hand on his arm.
"Nathan."
He looked back to see Allison watching him with concern, worry tightening the skin around her eyes. "Nathan, you can't go in there yet. He looked like he was in pretty rough shape when they brought him in. They're still working on him and they won't even let me in there," she said softly. "Where were you when they brought him in here?"
Nathan was surprised at how rough his voice was when he spoke, gasping out words between breaths. "Carl went- he killed himself."
"Oh, Nathan," she put her hand on his cheek. "I'm so sorry."
He shook his head, still not quite able to put his thoughts together coherently.
"Do you know anything?" he panted.
Allison shook her head. "About Carter? Only that he was unconscious when they got him in here."
Nathan nodded, not looking away from the door to the room where the doctors were working on Jack. He needed to get in there, he needed to see how Jack was.
This was his fault. If he hadn't followed SOP, if he hadn't brought the SWAT team with him to intercept Carlson, Jack wouldn't have been shot, he wouldn't have died, and he wouldn't have the entire Global Dynamics medical staff in a flurry of panic.
"Are you okay?" Allison's voice was soft, calm and that, somehow, made him irrationally angry.
"I watched two people die today!" he bellowed, turning on her. "Two men died today because of decisions I made!"
She flinched back, staring up at him. She seemed at a loss for words.
"Dr. Stark?"
"What?!" He rounded on the source of the voice, face red, veins popping on his neck.
There was a young-looking nurse half-cowering, but still looking up at him. "Dr. Baxter wanted me to tell you that Sheriff Carter will be all right. The burns on his chest might scar, but otherwise he's healthy. There don't appear to be any lasting effects of his ordeal."
Nathan let out a shuddering breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "His ribs?"
The nurse nodded. "None broken."
"His heart?"
The nurse blinked, confused. "Perfectly healthy."
Nathan smiled, then blinked hard against tears well up in his eyes.
"He also told me to tell you that it should only be a few minutes more, but he'll come to get you and Dr. Blake when you can come in to see Sheriff Carter."
Nathan nodded. "Thank you," he managed
The nurse smiled and darted back into the room.
"You really do care about him, don't you?"
He turned to look at Allison, brow creased in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I just-" she started, "I just never thought you two would be friends. You hated his guts when you first moved here. You couldn't even be in the same room without fighting like cats and dogs." She gave an incredulous scoff. "When you first started being nice to him, I seriously just thought that it was some game to lead him on and then break him down."
"What?" He stared at her, bristling.
She shrugged defensively at his tone. "It didn't seem like something you'd do, but you've been so brutal since you came back that I thought- I was worried that you might have changed."
"Changed."
Allison threw her arms out in exasperation. "I don't know, Nathan! Changed! You're meaner than I remember. You seem to take joy in making people scurry. It's a bad day if you only make three people cry."
Nathan dropped his face into his hands. He'd had this conversation with Jack two weeks earlier. "I-"
"Dr. Stark. Dr. Blake."
They turned to see Dr. Baxter, a whip-cord thin man who was the lead physician on the day shift, approaching them.
"How's Jack?" Nathan asked quickly.
Baxter smiled. "Sheriff Carter is fine. It's amazing. By all rights according to Dr. Blake, from her description of his injuries, he should have been… irretrievable. What was it that let you heal him so completely?"
Nathan shook his head. "I don't- It isn't recreatable."
The doctor sighed. "That's too bad. Harnessing whatever it was that healed him would completely change the field of medicine. The only sign that he was ever injured is a patch of burns on his chest."
Relieved, Nathan let out a shuddering breath. "Can I- can we go in and see him?"
Baxter shrugged. "I don't see why not. He's asleep, however, so be quiet."
Nathan brushed past the man, using his long legs to cross the infirmary as quickly as possible without full out running. He pushed into the room and stopped, staring at Jack's form laying still on the bed.
Well, almost still, Jack's chest rose and fell, in long even breaths. A heart monitor behind him beeped steadily at 65 beats per minute.
Nathan sagged, knees buckling in relief. Allison caught him, helped him to steady.
"You okay?" she asked.
"I saw his heart today," he answered quietly. "I literally saw his heart, and it wasn't beating. Oh, God, Alli, it was so still. He was so still."
"But he's alive now, and he's going to be okay," she answered gently.
Nathan felt like he should have turned to look at Allison, but didn't. He couldn't look away from Jack. "But he was d-" he choked on the word "For a few minutes today, I lost my best friend. It was my fault, Alli!" he cried.
She moved to hush him, but it was the sudden spike in Jack's heartrate at his cry that quieted him.
"If I hadn't brought the SWAT team, if I had just trusted his ability as a law enforcement officer instead of following SOP, Jack wouldn't have been shot."
Allison shook her head. "It wasn't you, Nathan. It was the officer, the one who shot despite orders not to. He's the one responsible for shooting Carter. He made the decision to shoot, and he was the one who shot Carter, not you." She smiled softly. "You sit with him. Is there anything I can do for you? Can I get you anything?"
The thought of Zoë crossed his mind. "Someone needs to get Zoë, we need to tell her before anyone else does." He swayed towards the door, drawn by the thought of helping Zoë, but terrified to leave Jack's side. "I should-"
Allison frowned at him and pushed him toward the bed-side chair. "No. You shouldn't. You're in no state to drive. I'll-"
There was high-pitched, panicked-sounding shouting from outside the room. Even muffled by walls, Nathan recognized Zoë's voice and rushed out through the door followed by Allison.
"My dad!" she was shouting, "Where's my dad?"
Her skin was ashy white, contrasted sharply by eyes bright red from crying and the mascara streaked down her cheeks.
The nurses in the main ward were spinning, shouting back at her, demanding to know who she was and how she had gotten into the Infirmary, into the building. No one was answering her questions.
"Zoë!" he called, pushing through the nurses to get to the panicked girl.
She turned at the sound of his voice. "Dr. Stark! The people at school, they were watching a video, they said- they said Dad'd been shot." Her voice pitched up into a wail, "They said he was dead! Oh, God, Dr. Stark! I watched him die!" The last came out in an explosive sob. She threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his chest, sobbing into his shirt.
He hugged her reflexively. "He's not! Zoë, he's not."
She pushed back, eyes wide and glassy, and looked up at him, "He's not? But I saw in the video-"
"He's alive. He's in one of the private rooms, sleeping," Nathan said. "According to the doctors he's fine."
"But, I- I saw it, one of them showed me the video. He died. You were screaming for an ambulance and- and-"
He took her hand and led her, stumbling behind him as they crossed the ward towards Jack's room. Nathan pushed open the door and pulled Zoë in to stand beside him.
He pointed to the heart monitor. "See that?" She nodded and he continued again. "It's your dad's heartbeat. The monitor beeps every time his heart beats. That number is how many times it beats per minute. 64 is a good resting number."
Zoë nodded again. Nathan knew she probably very likely knew this, but explaining it to her made him feel less like throwing up and sobbing at the same time. Jack was fine, he could see that Jack was fine, but he was scared, bile was high and hot in his throat. He wouldn't be able to breathe until Jack was awake and smiling, life and laughter twinkling in his eyes.
"And that-" he pointed to another machine, with rows of squiggly lines crossing the screen, "Is an EEG, and electroencephalogram. It's hooked to the white discs on your dad's head and is measuring his brainwaves. Those big, wide curves show that he's sleeping very deeply, which is good. He's recovering from the shock of what happened.
He squeezed her hand and she looked up at him. "Your dad's a strong man, Zoë. He's going to be okay."
She smiled at him. "Thank you, Dr. Stark." Zoë hugged him again, hard and started sobbing quietly into his suit jacket. He wasn't sure what to do at first, but vaguely remembered what Jack had done for Zoë in the horrible days after Callister's death and wrapped an arm around her back, gently stroking her hair with the other.
She cried for a long time, a lot longer than seemed normal, but he understood. He realized he needed to cry, too, needed to cry out all of the fear and anger and relief welling up inside him, but he couldn't. Not yet, not now with the teenaged daughter of the man he cared for weeping in his arms.
Eventually Zoë looked up at him. "Thank you, Dr. Stark."
He smiled gently at her, feeling his withheld tears burning behind his eyes. "Nathan."
She returned a flickering smile of her own. "Thank you, Nathan." Zoë rubbed suddenly at her cheeks, smearing her running mascara as she tried to dry her tears before gesturing at his chest. "I'm sorry about your shirt. I probably ruined it with my- Is that blood?" Her face had gone white and she was perfectly still.
He looked down at his shirt and felt the blood drain from his own face.
He wanted to scream.
There were smears of dark, half-dried blood staining the fabrics from where he had held Jack's bleeding body against his own as they raced to the Artifact. He looked at his hands and saw that they were also red, blood crusted in between the friction ridges and in the creases across his palms and fingers. Nathan looked up at Zoë in horror and saw that Jack's blood had stained her shirt as well.
He swallowed bile and she looked down then back up at him. "That's- it's-" She let out a strangled scream and began pulling at her shirt, trying to pull it off over her head. "Get it off! Get it off! Get if off!" she shrieked, ripping at the fabric.
Nathan lunged forward and stripped her shirt off over her head and then turned away, bolting for the door before he saw anything. The doctors met him at the door.
"What's wrong?" Dr. Baxter demanded, trying to look around him into the room. "Is something wrong with the Sheriff?"
"I need a scrub top," he demanded. "Small, for Zoë." He glanced down at his own stained clothes. "And one for me."
He remained in the doorway, blocking the view of a shirtless Zoë from everyone in the Infirmary, listening to the sounds of her hyperventilating behind him. She was gasping for air on every third or fourth breath and the slow beeping of Jack's heart monitor had accelerated.
A nurse reached through the crowd of doctors at the door, two green shirts in her hand. Nathan nodded and grabbed them, then shut the door on the crowd.
He pulled the shirts apart, handing the smaller to Zoë without looking up from her shoes and turned away. He shed his jacket, tie, and shirts, letting them fall on the ground as he pulled the scrub shirt on. He wanted to burn the pile of clothes, wanted no evidence left that Jack had ever been hurt so badly.
His hands.
His hands were still bloody.
He crossed to the sink and turned on the tap, letting the water run over his hands.
A part of his brain, the scientist part that he could never quite shut off, watched in fascination as the water hit his hands clear, but swirled down the drain red, carrying away the blood that had pumped fourteen hundred and eleven times per day through Jack's heart.
Nathan roused himself and started scrubbing, forcing the blood to wash away faster.
When the water finally ran off his hands clear again, he shut off the sink and turned back to see Zoë staring at her father. She looked up at him. "Thank you, Dr.- Nathan. For the shirt. I didn't mean to flip out on you, but it was Dad's blood. And it was all over my shirt." She paused speculatively. "I mean, I've seen him cut himself before, but I never realized there was so much, never realized that that much could be outside his body at one time." She looked over at him. "Is he still injured?"
Nathan shook his head. "Not seriously. There are some burns on his chest, but other than that, he's okay."
Zoë sat in the chair by Jack's bed and Nathan took the chair next to the counter.
"What happened to him?" she asked.
Nathan was slow to respond, trying to figure out exactly how much to tell her.
"I'm not a kid, Nathan," Zoë said archly.
Nathan lifted an eyebrow and Zoë rolled her eyes. "Look," she explained, "I impersonated a flight attendant despite the post-9/11 air travel regulations, and I've gotten away with more crimes than Dad will ever know." Her eyes darkened slightly. "And I was there in Portland with Callister. I'm not a little kid, despite my age and propensity for acting out."
"That's not the biggest issue, Zoë," Nathan replied, "Although, yes, I think people your age should still be somewhat protected from the harsh reality of the world. What happened is the result of a classified project in Section Five. I can tell you what happened but not why any of it happened."
Zoë frowned. "O-okay?"
Nathan sighed before speaking. "Do you know who Carl Carlson was?"
She nodded. "Yeah, he was the scientist Dad was firing yesterday. He was a biochemist or something."
He nodded. "That's him. There was an explosion in his lab yesterday and he was exposed to… exotic particles that gave him what were essentially telekinetic powers. His powers and instability turned him into a threat to the public and he got away from J- your dad and I before we could talk to him. Your dad was downtown and he was talking Carl down and," he paused clearing his throat, hoping Zoë wouldn't hate him, "I brought a SWAT team with me to confront Carl. I didn't realize that your dad had it under control."
She cut in. "The guy didn't listen to you and he shot at Dr. Carlson."
"Yes." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Carl was able to redirect the blast and it ricocheted and struck Jack." Nathan took a deep breath, steadying his voice before he spoke again, not daring to meet Zoë's eyes. "It killed him instantly."
Zoë gasped, hands flying to her mouth, eyes wide. She stared at Nathan then looked down at Jack, sleeping quietly on the bed. "He was- was that why- you were screaming for an ambulance."
Had he been screaming?
She was hesitant when she spoke. "In the video, was that Dr. Carlson with the freaky gold light?"
"It was. He saved your father's life. The same project that gave Carl his abilities allowed him to completely, totally heal his injuries. He made it as if your dad had never been hurt."
"I want to thank him," she blurted, the words coming out in a tumbling rush.
Nathan grit his teeth. Today had been brutally hard enough without having to recount all of this. A part of him wanted to get blackout drunk on $200 a bottle scotch and a part of him wanted to lay on the bed next to Jack and curl his body around the smaller man's. The realization was startling.
"I'm sure he would have appreciated the sentiment, but Carl committed suicide shortly after saving Jack."
Zoë bowed her head for a long moment before looking back up at him. "Today sucks doesn't it?"
Nathan snorted. "It does."
"Dad's really okay?"
"Except for being an incorrigible Dodgers fan, he is."
Zoë frowned. "What's wrong with being a Dodger's fan?"
Nathan gave her a sly smile. "I grew up in Berkeley."
Her eyes went wide and her hands went back up to her mouth in horror. "No, please don't say you're an A's fan."
"Worse," Nathan grinned diabolically. "Giants."
Zoë groaned and slumped in her seat. "Oh, God. Does Dad know?"
"Nope."
"Dad's gonna have a coronary when he finds out. You know he has a World Series bat signed by the 1988 team."
Nathan lifted his eyebrows. That was an expensive souvenir. He looked down at Jack. They'd only been friendship-close for three weeks, but he wanted to know everything about Jack. And not in a dissect-him-to-get-ahead-in-business sort of way, but in a way that felt new but half-remembered.
There was a sudden movement from Zoë's direction and he looked up to see her yawning and curling in on herself like a kitten. She blushed when she realized he had been watching. "I-"
Nathan smiled gently. "It's been a long day. You go ahead and sleep. I'll wake you if he wakes up."
She yawned again and Nathan felt one prickle at the back of his throat, which he stifled by clenching his jaw and breathing in deeply through this nose.
"Thanks, Nathan," she murmured before turning and curling sideways in the seat. Zoë tucked her head against her shoulder, arms crossed high on her chest and settled, falling asleep quickly.
Nathan watched her for a moment before looking back at Jack.
He'd- they'd nearly lost Jack today. Nathan didn't know what he would have done if Jack had been… irretrievable. Hot fear flashed in his throat and for a moment he couldn't breathe.
Nathan reached out and touched Jack's hand, trying to prove he was alive and warm and solid. Jack made a small sound and turned slightly, curling part way onto his side to face Nathan, eyes still shut, still sound asleep. Nathan's stomach flipped and he looked away for a moment before looking back.
Jack.
His heart gave a lurch as he looked at him.
Jack.
A thought broke across his mind, an epiphany. It felt just like the epiphany that won him his Nobel.
He… cared… for Jack.
A lot.
He moved his hand and gripped Jack's tightly, briefly before letting go. God, the realization was so startling. Three weeks.
But he could wait to see if Jack felt the same.
Exhaustion hit him, fast, and hard. Nathan sagged, and instead of fighting it, crossed his arms on the edge of Jack's bed, bowed his head to rest on his arms, and fell asleep.
