"There are some things that you can't know
unless you've been there,
but oh how far we could go
if we started to share."
- Ani DiFranco, "Work Your Way Out"
Jack must be starving by now, she thinks, steadying the plate in one hand as she unlocks the door, pushes it open.
Except he's right on the other side of it, grabbing at her arms, pushing himself against her, and the heavy white plate goes flying, shattering against the metal floor. Juliet is bent over the table, her arms behind her back, and she's scrabbling for the taser in the back waistband of her khakis, it's right there, but she feels his hand against hers and he yanks the taser out of grasp, sending it skittering across the floor.
They're silent except for heavy breathing, the small pathetic noises she makes as she tries to fight against him, it's not like she doesn't know how to fight (being beaten up for weeks, bruises on her face, swollen lips, black eyes, dislocated shoulder, until she started swinging back hard enough and fast enough), but he's bigger and stronger and he had the element of surprise - she was stupid to trust him like that, and where is everyone, anyone, shouldn't they be watching this on the security cameras, where are they, were they expecting this, are they just letting her be overpowered? Why? And oh god, where is David; is he sleeping through this somewhere, is he OK?
Jack bends down with her to the floor, just for an instant, and she doesn't know why, but when he raises them up again, standing straight this time, he's got a jagged edge of the plate against her jugular vein. He's a doctor too, he knows just where to cut. His right forearm is sideways across her breast and she knows he must be able to feel her heart pounding.
"Which way out?" he almost purrs, his breath hot against her ear.
"Don't do this, Jack," she gasps. "Don't - don't - " Maybe David is hiding under a bed somewhere. Please, please.
Jack drags her down the hall. The buttons from her shirt must have been ripped off, the shirt itself down almost to her elbows, and she can feel the heat from his body through her thin tank top. The shard of china is digging into the skin on her neck. He drags her to the door, kicks at it but it doesn't budge. Drags her to the other end of the hall - no, no. (Isn't someone supposed to come save her?)
They're in front of the metal wheel. He loosens his grasp on her, only to thrust her forward. She can feel his anger simmering like heat rising from an engine block. Her hands are free, sort of. But he's got a weapon, no matter how primitive. "Open it," he commands.
"I can't," she pleads, even he he starts shaking his head in angry disbelief. "I can't, Jack, I do that, we die."
"You're lying," he mutters, disgusted. The dark circles under his eyes stand out in this green light, his face red.
"I'm not, I'm not," she insists, almost crying now. All semblance of control is long since gone and WHERE IS DAVID SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHERE HE IS.
"OPEN THE DOOR!" he screams at her, the fury exploding in his voice, his face contorting with rage, and that's when she jerks awake in a dark room, pushing up off the sheets on her wrists, her heels digging into the mattress.
"Oh - " She's clawing at her pillow, swatting Jack's arms away from her, gasping, sitting up, twisted in the sheets.
"Juliet - " Jack's awake now too, also sitting up, reaching for her. She stiffens, she has to let him touch her, it was just a dream, and - "Juliet, are you OK?"
She's panting hard, still, gasping for air, and what happened, he wanted to open the door and the ocean would flood in, except what ocean? They're landlocked, they're in Michigan, even Lake Erie is fifty miles away, and they're not underground, they're in their apartment, and he's not trying to hurt her, he's trying to comfort her and... "I had a bad dream," she finally gets out.
"Close your eyes," his voice comes gently.
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Without hesitating Juliet does as instructed, trying and trying to forget, hearing rustling, and then the insides of her eyelids turn red because Jack's turned on his bedside light. She cracks her eyes open slowly, watching him. He looks worried. He needs to shave. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Can you check on David?" she whispers.
He frowns. "Yeah. Yeah, of course. You want me to put on water for tea or something?"
She shakes her head. She still hates tea.
While Jack creaks down the hall, she curls up, facing the door so she can see him come back in. Most of the details of her dream are fading now. He'd wanted her to open a door, desperately. What was he so desperate about? So angry? She'd wanted to fight him. In the dream, she'd known she could, even. The adrenaline is still pumping; she sneaks a peek at the digital clock on her end table. 4:15. It's so quiet here, on the first floor of this big house on the south end of campus. Some evenings, their upstairs neighbors, Jason and Felix, stamp in frustration when one of them loses a level in Super Nintendo, but it's the middle of the night now, nothing but all these old swishing trees around to make noise.
Jack's in the doorway, tall and dark and difficult to see until he emerges from the blackened hallway, stepping back into their bedroom with a glass of water. He sits down on her side of the bed, handing her the glass. "He's fine. Asleep with his dolphin."
She takes a long sip of water; her throat is dry from this artificial radiator heat she's not used to, and anyway, it prevents her from having to say anything. Jack tries to run his fingers through the hair at the back of her head, but it's tangled and he promptly gives up. Instead, she lays back down on her side, curling around him, and he twists near her, rubbing her left hip through her white sweatpants. His hand is big and warm, and technically what he's doing to her feels good, but she remembers her dream vividly again for just a split-second and can't keep the grimace from her face.
"You're sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"I'm not sure I really remember it." Had she been keeping him prisoner in the beginning? Why would she do that?
He leans over sideways, kissing her shoulder. "Think you can get some sleep? Long day tomorrow."
"Jack, every day is a long day when you're us."
He grins then, a little silly. She smiles back. Their bed (Jack's bed, from his old studio apartment) is comfortable, maybe slightly too squishy, but it's warm and soft, and he crosses to his own side, lying down and wrapping his arms around her. She shoves down the swell of anxiety at the sensation, until their breathing evens out together and he's just Jack again, the only Jack she's ever known.
Jack tells his parents that there won't be any traveling for Thanksgiving or Christmas or David's birthday, that he and Juliet need time to formulate their own little family structure in Ann Arbor and next year is always a possibility, blah blah blah. Juliet sits at the desk in their playroom/office/fake dining room as she listens to him getting more and more agitated on the phone.
"But what you're not understanding is - " he's trying again.
She somehow can't even believe his parents are still doing this. That graduation lunch was something of a horror show. The initial awkwardness was expected on all fronts; they'd called off Margo's babysitting of David the last couple weeks of that final semester and during the few weeks of summer before they'd moved - which had led to Christian basically cutting off loans to Jack at the worst possible time. They'd barely scraped by taking care of David, mostly because Juliet had finally asked her dad for more money, which had made him dislike Jack (from afar, even more).
And graduation marked the first time the two sets of "parents" (Juliet still had felt weird about thinking of Stephanie as her stepmother, and should she have invited Rose and Tahlia and Bernard?) met each other. They'd had lunch at a nice place downtown, still all dressed up, with Juliet's and Jack's graduation gowns draped over their chair backs and David refusing to stay in his high chair, instead being passed from one lap to the next.
Niall and Rachel looked like they were ready to bolt pretty much from the time they'd sat down. Then the waiter came for the first set of drink orders, and Dad and Stephanie ordered wine, and Juliet felt Jack freeze next to her. Oh. Oh. She should have warned them.
"Just a sparkling water for me," Christian told the waiter stiffly, and Juliet slipped her hand under the table, squeezing Jack's knee. He shot her an uncertain look. Are we still telling them? she wished she could ask him.
Conservation moved politely enough for most of the lunch. Weather, particularly the comparison between Key West and Los Angeles, was a seemingly fascinating topic of conservation. Dad asked Christian about treating people at the hospital during the riots - OK, not exactly an uplifting topic, but certainly timely. Margo was interested in Niall's classes - turned out she'd majored in English once upon a time. Juliet couldn't remember if she'd known that before.
David got antsy around the time they finished their entrees, and Rachel offered to talk him for a walk outside. As she lifted him from Juliet, though, Rachel flashed her a warning look. "Just do it already," she muttered, because of course Rachel was the expert in all of this, having only learned the news about two hours earlier herself.
Juliet could tell Jack heard Rachel, and at the next lull in conservation, Jack cleared his throat. For two weeks now, Juliet had imagined he would be the one to start, but when he finally did, she realized exactly how relieved she really was. "Juliet and I have an announcement."
Juliet's father frowned. "Shouldn't we wait for...?" He twisted around, looking off in the direction Rachel and David had gone.
"We'll get her up to speed," Juliet promised softly.
"What, um, kind of announcement?" Stephanie asked then, starting to smile, trying to hide it.
Christian squinted in suspicion; Margo pressed a hand to her mouth. Grandpa Ray? Sort of smiled.
Oh God. Oh god oh god, Jack, please keep going before this gets much more embarrassing. We are not getting married. I am not pregnant. Please, please KEEP IT MOVING.
"A couple months back, Juliet received a wonderful honor." OK, OK, so you're starting this like a speech. You know what? Fine. Do what you need to do, Jack. "A full scholarship at the University of Michigan, with a work-study grant. And they've also reached out to me and offered me a position in their residency program. We've decided that..." Everyone was gaping, and there Jack hesitated.
"That it makes the most financial sense for us to move. To Ann Arbor," Juliet finished.
Her father's face split into a grin. "Well... that's wonderful! No student loans? Congratulations!"
Juliet nodded her head in agreement, trying not to smile too hard. Jesus, what were they thinking? They should have told their parents separately. For once her dad was genuinely proud of her.
Christian was silent, too silent. Margo looked horrified. "That's it? You're taking David away from us?"
"We're not taking David away, Mom, this is just a great opp-" Jack began.
"And you just happened to get this offer." Christian, finally.
Jack's hands were pressed flat against the tabletop. "Actually, yes. They're crazy about Juliet, and - "
"And have you thought about how this will make you and I look to the staff at St. Sebastian's? You already accepted a - "
"I called them and rescinded on Monday. I asked them not to say anything to you until now."
"And when you come crawling back to L.A., you honestly think that they'll just have a job waiting for you?"
(Are they ever coming back to L.A.? Juliet couldn't imagine much beyond the next four years. Or, more honestly, the next few months.)
"Now, son," Ray began. "Today is a celebration."
"I agree with Ray," Stephanie announced, then paused. "...It's Ray, right? This is a good thing for these kids. Let's not crap all over it."
Thank you. Thank you, thank you, awkward stepmother I used to dislike for no particular reason except you always tried to help too much.
"Oh, please, you're not even her mother," Margo interjected, rolling her eyes. "And they're not even - " She suddenly cast a confused look over to Juliet and Jack. "Wait. Wait a minute. Are you... together?"
"Yes." Jack's voice was firm. His hand slid over and found Juliet's. Across the table, Niall (poor, poor, stranded Niall) beamed at her.
"Well, thank goodness for that," Margo sighed, then cast her eyes toward Juliet's father. "She's a very lovely girl, and we like her very much. We just wish they were not doing this to us."
"We're not doing anything to you," Jack muttered.
"We'll talk about this later," Christian said.
Jack squared his shoulders. "No. No, we won't."
(No one ordered dessert.)
Her father patted her sympathetically on the shoulder on the way out. "I will never do anything like that to you ever again," he whispered.
"I know," she whispered back.
Winter 1992-93
The truth about the holidays? They're not going to be alone, not for Christmas. Rachel and Niall are driving up. There's a Nirvana show in Detroit on the 28th of December, too, and if Jack and Juliet can manage a babysitter, they're all going to go out.
On the first day of Juliet's semester break, Jack's off from work, and they bring David out to one of those cut-your-own-Christmas-tree places, and David tromps around in snow with a wonder that clearly illustrates he doesn't remember last year's snow in Flagstaff, not one bit. Juliet drops him down and shows him how to make snow angels, a mistake she promptly regrets considering only one of them has a proper snowsuit, and it's the almost-two-year-old, not the twenty-two-year-old. Jack cracks up at her screech.
"I have snow under my shirt!" she gasps, ripping off her gloves and frantically clawing at her back.
David thinks it's hilarious too, flinging himself at her and giggling.
"That's what you get," Jack tells her, and when he turns his back for a second to look at the actual trees, she hits him squarely in the back of the head with a snowball.
Once they're back home, David is fascinated by the fact that there is a tree leaning up against their front windows, waiting out on the porch. "In a few days, we can bring it inside," Jack tells him, and his eyes go wide.
Juliet dumps all their melted-snow wet clothes in the bathtub, wishing they had a fireplace. They drink hot chocolate and she still wishes they had a fireplace. Funny how Jack's parents managed to have one in L.A., the land of We Will Never Actually Need This Fireplace.
David's "hot chocolate" was mostly milk, not enough to get him going on a sugar high (they've learned from past mistakes), and he conks out on the throw rug, his sippy cup a foot away from his head.
"Big morning for him," Jack whispers.
Getting a Christmas tree, playing in the snow, and having hot chocolate? "The biggest."
"Think we should try to move him?"
"Hell no."
They smile at each other, one of those weird in-the-know parent things that happen sometimes these days. She wonders if she should ask if Jack's talked to his own parents since that angry conversation a couple weeks back, if it's weird around the holidays, if he feels bad or angry or guilty or relieved to be so far away, with no promise that they'll ever go back for any particular length of time.
She has no idea.
Jack settles onto the couch, pulling her down, against him. She rests the back of her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She wonders how many other girls have been on this couch, left over from Jack's studio apartment days. She wonders why that thought doesn't really bother her anymore, at least not as much as the fact that really, this thing is pretty damn uncomfortable.
(Is this really their home now? This living room still doesn't still like their living room yet, she thinks, but maybe it's not the couch; maybe it's just because she's still not sure how she suddenly got lucky enough to have this life.)
"What do you want for Christmas?" he asks her suddenly.
World peace? A million dollars? "Snow pants," she answers wryly. This, she thinks. Exactly this. David curled up. Us on the couch.
"No, seriously." He reaches up, moving her hair away from his mouth. "If you could have anything. Anything in the world."
My mother? "Other than a new couch, I'd have to think about it. What do you want?" Or, wait, wait, is he -
Jack sort of sighs. "I guess I'd have to think about it, too."
Rachel brings so many toys for David that while they're unloading the car, Juliet asks her if she'd robbed a Toys 'R' Us.
Her sister just rolls her eyes. She's wearing a plaid cap with earflaps that Juliet hopes is being worn ironically. "This is gonna be the first Christmas he really gets it, you know? We gotta have fun."
"Right, because we usually have a miserable time."
"Do you not want me spoiling your bastard offspring? I want to make sure I'm his favorite aunt." Rachel wedges a final bag of presents under one arm, slams the trunk closed as Niall comes running out.
"Do not use that word around him. And you're his only aunt."
Rachel pauses as Niall takes the bag from her. "Not technically." Tahlia.
"Oh yeah." Juliet hesitates. "I sent them all a Christmas card." Inside it's weirdly quiet and neat. She and Jack had spent the morning cleaning; David is napping.
"Really? Me, too. Where's David?"
"Asleep. And you sent Christmas cards? You couldn't even remember to send thank-you notes when we were growing up. Mom - " she stops.
"Always had to yell at me. Yeah, I know, I know."
"Well, don't get defensive about it. Just because you're always guarded about showing expressions of affection - "
"Excuse me, I'm always guarded?" Rachel mock-explodes. "I don't even know where to begin with that. ...So am I getting the grand tour of this place, or what? And if makes you feel any better, I didn't send Christmas cards. I just sent the one card."
"Yeah, I was gonna say." Juliet fakes a hurt expression. "I mean, I didn't get one."
Rachel shrugs. "Sorry. Long-lost sisters only. You don't qualify."
