Author's Note: I couldn't wait to post this as I have special plans for the next chapter. Now I don't do this often, in fact, I don't do it at all but to add to the mood play this song: Junuh Sees the Field by Rachel Portman. Put it on repeat and play it low. Trust me. It will be worth it. Also, check out my Tumblr nefariousundertakingDOTtumlbr
The Dreamer 17: This chapter is for you. Thank you for all of your enthusiasm and reviews. I love every single one.
Walk With Me
A twig snapped. Stomping through the woods with Inferno at her side, Marceline did her best to block from her mind the events of two days ago. After Jack's kiss, he had pulled back and stood staring mesmerized by the color of her eyes alone. Those few precious seconds allowed for Marceline's logical mind to regain control. Furious at him, but more so with herself, she had pushed him away rejecting him.
If it weren't for the dramatic new and raw anger he felt from her he would have pulled her back and kissed her again. He would have forced her to admit that she enjoyed the kiss as much as he did. But he was shocked, dumbfounded and she pushed past him rushing off to her room. Now she avoided him like the plague.
"I can't believe I let him kiss me," she stormed ducking under a low branch. "I can't believe I kissed him back!"
That kiss had ruined everything. Now that he knew she was affected he would pursue her at all costs and what then? Would she even be strong enough to resist him or just as before would she give in? How could she possibly begin anything with him as he was? How could she have feelings, be moved by a killer?
"I'm not going to let that happen," Marceline promised, speaking to Inferno. "I'm not going to let that man, that unholy degenerate get to me, no matter how good he kisses! I'm not falling for..."
"Are you talkin' about Jack?"
Startled Marceline's head snapped up.
It was his usual thing to do, walk the grounds in the morning. A ritual of sorts. Standing just a few feet away Michael looked at her expectantly.
When she didn't answer his question he dug his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat debating on what he should do.
Not only had he heard her rant but he had seen them. His quarters were higher, a snipers dream, and it was only when he heard thunder rumbling in the distance that he reached for his binoculars. He liked thunderstorms. But for some odd reason all the lighting seemed to be coming from one location, directly above him. He peered over the area and to his surprise witnessed that first kiss and its bitter rejection.
Staring at her now, he knew that she didn't know that she couldn't see it. She was blind to all the leaps Jack had taken, all the hurdles he jumped to grow close to her. Most importantly she was blind to how deep her feelings ran and that was what made up his mind.
"Walk with me."
Without waiting for her to follow, he turned on his heel and trudged back through the trees. Gaping at him, Marceline wondered why he wanted her to follow him. She made to speak, to deny his request but then he paused and peered over his shoulder at her. Those frost blue eyes were piercing and in them she saw his silent plea. Walk with me. And she did.
They moved through the trees walking deeper and deeper at a pace so slow that after a spell she couldn't hear the rustling of the leaves or twigs breaking under her feet. A stillness had set in. It was then that he began to explain.
"Jack has never been good at explaining how he feels."
Honey eyes flew to Michael's profile. Turning his head he gave her a small smile. "He isn't," he confirmed once more before looking back ahead. "That wasn't his own way of behaving, but something life had forced on him."
"When he was a kid, real young, he lived with his parents in Wyoming. I was in High School at the time but if you would have seen him as a youngin you wouldn't think he would grow up to be who is now. There was a high energy in him, a playfulness that came naturally. He liked to make people laugh, he would do the silliest things just to put a smile on someone's face. But there's a sayin' that goes, 'the saddest people smile the brightest.' And that person is Jack."
Guiding her along a narrow well-worn path he continued. "I didn't know what was happening. I was too young to pay attention to the signs."
"What happened?" She asked already drawn-in.
"We come from a military family. Most of the men, a good majority, are good men but his father... he wasn't."
On that path, Michael told her that Jackson Sr. used to beat his wife and son regularly, though at the time it was Jack's mother Evelynn who took the brunt of his anger. "I could never understand it. She was so perfect; sweet as pie, lively like Jack, and a really good person."
"We all thought she had run away, just run off with someone else; at least that's that what he told us when we didn't see or hear from her after a while." Pausing in his footsteps, he looked her in the eyes and told her. "But she didn't run off alone. She had run from him and had taken Jack with her. It was only by chance that I was in a hospital a few cities over visiting an injured vet when I heard her name, her maiden name. Love. Evelynn Love. I saw her in that bed and couldn't believe my eyes."
Michael had entered the room and she had regained enough movement in her jaw to move it, to speak. In hushed tones, she told him the truth. That while Jackson was away she was going to take Jack and live with her family in California. She had planned it perfectly, done it right in the middle of Jackson's leave so that when he returned home he would have no idea where they had gone. But he had come home early.
Jackson took one look at their packed suitcases and lost it. Beat her within an inch of her life. Jack was just a boy, but he tried to defend her, had covered her with his own body.
"Stop! Just stop! Why can't you just stop?" Jack cried, bending over to shield his mother's head from further blows. "You shouldn't b-b-break something you l-love."
Out of the mouth of babes come the truth. The wisdom of a child, those honest words made Jackson see the monster he truly was. He couldn't accept it.
"So he beat her then and dumped her off somewhere for dead. Someone found her and took her to the hospital, only they didn't know who she was, no ID, nothing. I think Jack blacked it out. After that lie about her running out on them I saw Jack again and he was so quiet. He didn't move or eat, wouldn't speak. I thought because of how he was acting it was the truth."
Tears ran down Marceline's cheeks. Quickly she wiped them away. Together they moved over to a fallen tree, taking a seat side by side.
As Marceline regained her composure she spoke. "W-what," Marceline cleared her throat. "What happened after that?"
Jackson moved up in rank and was given a transfer to England on that same base where Jack and Tom would meet years later. Alone and without family Jack would take the full force of all his father's anger and he became more and more withdrawn.
"I visited them for a week to see how they were doin', to see London. They showed me around, but Jack was different. When we came back to their home one evening his father was called away to discuss something with an officer on the base. It was then that I finally looked Jack over, looked him over real good. He would wear two shirts, sometimes three to hide everything. I saw the bruises, the scars."
The minute Jackson returned home he took the full wrath of a younger, faster, agiler, and stronger man. "I beat the shit out of him. I think I would have killed him," Michael confessed. "Jack stopped me. Grabbed onto me, latched onto my fist and held me back. I told his father if he ever touched Jack again it would be the end of him and I took Jack from him." At that, Michael's eyes darkened face morphing into a look of pain. "Military police came after me. Jack's dad was so high up but still scared that I was given a transfer. I already had a wife... I couldn't... I needed to work it was the only thing I was good at. But I kept in touch with Jack. Made him promise he would tell me when things got bad again so I could take him home." Michael turned watery eyes on her. "He never told me when it got worse."
Years had passed and Jack suddenly blocked out the pain. Growing older he learned how to box, to defend himself, and when his father came after him he would give him what-for. Not only that but he planned his time well, finding solace in books. He was gifted. So smart he could recite whole passages, pages from memory.
"When I went to visit that injured vet I mentioned before, and found out Jack's mother was alive, I couldn't keep it to myself. Jack was in High School, a senior. I spoke to him on the phone and told him something only he and his mother knew. I asked him, 'do you want to chase a twister with me?' He knew right away I had seen his mother."
At that Marceline's heart swelled up. Because of the kiss their essence entwined and what small part of him she had grown warm at that mention of his mom. "D-did he see her?"
Michael nodded his head, a huge smile on his face.
"We had to play it smart, figure out a way for them to communicate. Jack picked up an old skill, drawing. Rather than write letters he would draw pictures, wanting her to see everything he saw. All his best drawings he gives to her." Looking her in the eye he confessed, "That first painting he saw of yours... he gave that to his mother."
Marceline's jaw hit the floor. Not only was she stunned that Jack had given his mother her painting, but she was surprised to know that his mother was still alive. Before she could comment he went on.
"We planned it so that when Jackson left for extended meetings and whatnot, Jack would fly out to see her. He came during the summer and stayed for three weeks. It was the happiest I'd seen him in a long time. His mother looks just like him you know, only her eyes are golden. I wanted him to stay, expected him to, but he went back. I think a part of him wanted to be loved by his dad which is why he waited it out like he did."
Jack was accepted to West Point, graduated with the highest honors. With a degree in explosive engineering and a minor in several others, he was the perfect military candidate for covert ops.
"But why would he go to the military? Why not just be with his mother?"
"Like I said in the beginning were a military family. That pride for our countrymen is there and not all of us were like his father. Jack looked up to us. He loved his country, wanted to help others, and I think he liked the appeal of it too. All the training, the knowledge, weaponry, he liked the learning aspect. The first mission I didn't see him again for two years and by that time he was in his mid 20's. When he came back he was different. We're all different when we come back from war," Michael told her. "Lucky for me I had my wife and family to guide me back. Jack didn't have anyone."
Another dozen missions and a few more years went by before he returned home.
"Jack came home with the scars. To this day, he never told us how he got them."
"Would you like to know how I got them? I'll tell you. If you really want to know, I'll tell you."
"After that he shut himself in his house and said he was done. His father had the fucking nerve to call him a goddamn coward. So Jack took the blow, took the hit and tried to push back by doing it again. Only he wanted to be an instructor this time. That was a better fit for him. He was the only one who would tell the guys not only what they would be doing, but what they would see. Really prepared them for the worst."
As more tears fell Marceline didn't even try to wipe them away knowing more would take their place.
"There was a small group of men. A special unit. They had to test this new gun called an RX 476."
Her heart stopped. Blinking Marceline saw Michael's lips move but heard no sound. The RX 476 was her weapon, her design, the one that changed her way of life.
"One kid in the bunch was jittery. He already had a previous mission and couldn't handle it, was showing early signs of PTSD but they didn't pull him out. Everyone had to fire the weapon, no buts 'cause they were to ship out with it. It had already been tested several times without incident. When that kid went up he fired a few rounds and stopped."
In her mind, she saw the video. Saw the man's shoulders shake almost like he was laughing.
"Jack told me that the kid was shaking, trembling, and he moved to pull him out was going write him off and send him home. One of the other guys poked fun at the kid, called him a pussy. He snapped. Turned on them; shot them all, even shot Jack. He was the only one who lived, though." Shaking his head, he said, "All the days before the gun went off without a hitch. But when Jack was hit it malfunctioned. That malfunction saved his life."
Marceline knew the problem. It was something in the rapid fire that made the bullet jam but added pressure built up making it release after a few seconds. However the bullet shattered somehow, just burst into fragments.
"Still got the scar. It's right over his heart."
"Is that why he... w-why he...?"
Michael shook his head no. "When he got released from the hospital I took him home. I was going to stay with him to help him out. His dad came to see him, along with two of his relatives. Two uncles. Both of em mean son of bitches. Jackson looked his son right in the eye. Right in the eye and told him, 'Great. I had to get the fuckin' one who nearly dies during a training exercise. What a fuckin joke you are.' "
At that, Michael's hands began to tremble. "A switch went off. Everything Jack had endured, everything he held back came right out." Sparing her the details he said. "After he killed the other two he looked at me. His eyes were so dark it wasn't even him. But he remembered. Looked in my eyes and saw me, dropped the chair leg he was holding and fell down to his knees in shock. He had just murdered two uncles and his father and was more remorseful than that bastard had ever been, even if he wasn't sorry."
"We buried the bodies and got him out of the city. Jack's file was so damn classified it wasn't hard for him to disappear. We came to Gotham. Shortly after I lost my family, Jack steadily got worse... Well, he stopped holding back. If he wanted something he took it, angry he let it out. There's a reason for it. All of it. Even when he kills someone and it looks like it's random, it's not. Rather than accept the reason and move forward he just acts then and there, erases it before it can get worse or upset him more."
Finished with his story, they sat for a long time in silence.
"I'm not following behind Jack because I'm manipulated, neither is Tom. Tom looks out for him, makes sure he doesn't get hurt or go too far. Even got him these two mutts," he said petting Inferno, "...as service dogs to help him. I rage in my own way. But when he needs a stern talking to I give it to him. This city is just a cesspool; the perfect catalyst for him to release everything he has in him and more. It's darkened him which is part of the reason why he won't go home to see his mother. He won't say it, but I know he thinks she'll look at him, see what's he's become and not love him anymore."
It became clear to her that the beautiful woman in the painting she had seen, the one whose face was blurred but eyes reigned supreme was his mother. It was like he wanted her eyes on him, was yearning for it.
"I know he does things you don't agree with, but you need to know his past and see what he's done for you. Everything he's done now: the room, your family, the clothes, even making sure Tom doesn't annoy you, it's not something he would have done for anyone else. He can tell you in detail about many things, but ask him how he feels and he gets choked up." Holding her gaze he finished, "He's showing you how he feels Marceline. In his own way, Jack is telling you that he..."
After Michael was finished Marceline set there on that fallen tree for hours. Oblivious to the cold she stared through the earthen floor, her vision altering as she remembered it all. Finally she realized the little sacrifices he had made, the things he had done, all he had said:
"There is a storm approaching, but do not be alarmed for there is peace for you in this tempest."
"Now I know I broke my word, but understand that it was never my intention to do so."
"Marceline if I wanted you dead I would have left you in the alley. If I wanted you broken I wouldn't have taken you to the hospital and if I wanted you afraid, I wouldn't have given my word not to harm you. Furthermore, if I wanted to, uh, starve you, I wouldn't ask if you are hungry. Now take a seat."
"My interest began with a painting. I have no doubt that you will be able to create something to my satisfaction."
"See," Jack breathed, helping her over her fear of the dogs. "Nothing to be afraid of."
"All this time you've been here and there's nothing you see? There's nothing you see in me?"
A floodgate opened. Hand over her heart Marceline remembered clearly one more thing: how he had saved her life and remembered, felt, that first kiss in the doctor's office.
"You're more than welcome, Darlin'"
"Marceline?"
With a gasp, she turned her head sharply to the sound of his voice. Jack was standing a few feet away with a wild look in his eyes. He had felt it, a deep sorrow and knew it was coming from her.
Gripping his knife in his hand, he swallowed hard, looking her over. "Are you ok?" He asked gruffly, stepping closer. "Are you hurt? Is it..." He broke off. Remembering the reason for the last time she had cried like this he said, "Do you miss your father?"
Marceline promptly burst into tears.
"Oh, no, no, no," he shushed, coming to kneel in front of her. "Don't cry." Taking her hands in his, he pulled them away from her face. Her eyes were a spinning vortex. "Why are you crying?"
Looking into his amber eyes, she couldn't form the words. She couldn't tell him. She couldn't betray Michael's trust and risk causing a rift between the two of them. "I—I can't..." Swallowing the lump in her throat she told him, "I c-can't explain it."
Biting down on his scars he stared deep into her eyes. He could still feel it, the sadness, made him feel like he was drowning right along with her.
Releasing her hands he, cradled her face, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. The action was so soothing. A flow of peace came over her and immediately his action quieted her whimpers, turning them into little hiccups, and easing her mind.
Tucking back a stray curl that had been plastered to her cheek he murmured, "Sad, sad, sad... happy."
"W-what?" She questioned confused.
Jack gave her a slight smile. "When I was, uh, younger," he began voice heavy with emotion. "My mother..." he broke off not sure of how to begin.
He's not good with expressing how he feels Michael told her. "Tell me."
Blinking he did just that. "When I was younger when I couldn't tell her how I felt or when she couldn't tell me when something was wrong, she would tell me to say the emotions."
"You don't have to tell me all the details Jack, you can say the emotion instead." Brushing back locks of his blonde hair she stared into the eyes of her baby boy who was well on his way to becoming a man. "If you're hurt or angry, just say the word until you can finally say happy or calm. That's how you can tell me how you feel sweetheart." Smiling she placed a kiss on his forehead. "I'll go first. I'll describe how it felt to see you again: anxious, anxious, and so very anxious. Loved. Loved by you, loving you... happy"
"...that's what she did. What I did. What you can do if you don't want to, uh, tell me." For the life of him he couldn't fathom why he told her that. But he felt like he had to, that she needed it.
When Marceline remained silent, looking at him with an expression he couldn't decipher he shook his head. "Look—never mind. Come on, let's get you inside before your rear freezes to the bark and Inferno turns into a..." he trailed off.
Leaning forward her lips grazed his scarred cheek, mouth coming up to his ear as she began to whisper, "Sad. I'm very, very sad. I hurt, I ached, and became sad once again. Sad, sad, sad... surprised. Happy, so happy for two people and then..." Trusting in him, she confided in him in that most special way, telling him how she felt her essence following by allowing him to feel her emotions when she named them.
"And now," he asked when she pulled back to look into his eyes. "How do you feel now?"
"Thankful. Very, very thankful."
As Jack smiled a slow smile, his scars stretched to reveal his dimples. Marceline moved forward. Without warning, she took his face in her hands and pulling him forward kissed her favorite scar, the one that curved. Immediately they felt the rush.
"W-what was... what was that for?"
"I never thanked you properly for saving my life or for keeping your word. And..." she continued, eyes beginning to twinkle like stars. "I just wanted to kiss you." It wasn't out of pity. Knowing his story helped her to better understand him, to know what she had secretly known, that he was a heart a good man. Looking deep into his eyes, Marceline silently vowed that she wasn't going to let him remain that way, broken and hurting, that she wasn't going to let him block out anything else and neither was she.
"Walk with me." She heard for the second time that day. "I want to show you something."
Taking her hand in his Jack led her back to that same narrow hallway where a spiral staircase awaited them. Rather than go up, they went down. With every step closer to that purple door, she wondered what was inside. Feeling her unease he gave her hand a firm squeeze. Don't be afraid. I have you.
The door opened and together they stepped into darkness.
Jack let go of her hand then. Biting at her lower lip, she waited. She didn't have to wait long.
Curtains were pulled back. Bit by bit she saw the fading orange glow of the sunlight up the room and a surprise was unveiled, a piano.
Taking a seat Jack patted the space beside him. There was no hesitation. Marceline glided across the floor, seeming to walk on air.
"I practiced," he told her as he lifted the piano fallboard. "Started after that day in the park," he confessed with a shy smile. Turning to her face, he looked her over, eyes growing heated and soft at the same time. "I wanted it to be perfect. The way you sing," he explained. "I wanted to... to give that feeling you gave me, right back to you." Licking his lips, he turned back to the piano. Hands hovering above the keys he paused saying, "I wanted to return your call."
The keys were pressed and the melody began. It was slow yet fast in the beginning, almost like a search, the beginning of a quest. The melody picked up signifying that the hunt had begun and then it broke off, the notes becoming a lingering echo before it started back up again in full swing. Without words he was telling her, describing in music how it felt the very first time he heard her sing, the second time after that, and most important how he felt every time he looked at her.
The music he played on. Without knowing he had ensnared her in much the same fashion, she had captured him. Without knowing he had expertly, lovingly, willingly, returned his Siren's call.
Marceline now knew what it felt like. It was like she was flying high in the sky yet dancing on clouds at the same time. Dizzy and breathless but so perfectly and incandescently happy.
I wish I could say he finished his hard practiced song, but he didn't. He made the mistake of looking at her as he played. As he saw the water recede and the stars take hold of her eyes, she saw the fire begin in his. Taking his hands off the piano keys, he reached for her. As he leaned in for a kiss, she met him halfway.
How beautiful it was for them to share a kiss and to still hear the others call echoing in their minds. As the kiss continued on the songs in their minds flowed down, settling into one another's hearts. It spurred them on making them laugh and smile. Whoever would have thought so much could happen because of one... little... call.
Don't worry reader we still have a ways to go, why this isn't even their third song! If you wanted to hear Jack's song look for A Game of Croquet by Johann Johannsson.
Thanks for reading and please leave a review!