Chapter 16: An Unexpected Night
After a lot of searching, Clark eventually found Jackson in the locker room. It had been the first place he'd checked but after checking everywhere else and confirming that his Porsche was still in the school parking lot, Clark had decided to double-back. They must have missed each other at some point. The locker room was empty and unnervingly quiet; Clark had never been in there after so many people had left. He was used to the rowdiness.
The only noise that was being made in the almost empty locker room were sporadic thuds as Jackson angrily shoved his gear into his bag. "Yay! You won!" Clark cheered sarcastically. The way Jackson was acting made it seem like a bad thing. The team's captain only grunted in response. Clark frowned, puzzled as he leaned against the nearest locker. "Hmm. Aren't you supposed to be happy?"
Jackson shot Clark a look which clearly said 'are you kidding me' as he chucked his gloves into his sports bag. "You saw McCall at the end of that game. He was insane. It was like he was…" Jackson trailed off, trying to find the right word to describe it.
"Possessed?" Clark filled in for him with a smile.
"Don't go all Jamie on me," Jackson replied with a shake of his head, immediately catching Clark's reference. "But come on, the other team were passing the ball to him. That's not normal."
"Since when is McCall normal?" Clark returned with a shrug. "I don't know, man. Maybe he bribed them?" It was the only explanation Clark could find in the moment that Jackson would potentially accept.
"Maybe," Jackson nodded in agreement but secretly he wasn't convinced. Scott's torn glove which he had found abandoned on the field only added to his questions and his determination to find out what exactly was going on with McCall. "At least your brother's been released," Jackson moved the conversation on partly upon remembering Derek's wordless presence on the field when he'd found the glove.
"Oh, you heard about that?" Clark asked in surprise.
"Yeah, saw him at the field," Jackson told him as he returned to packing his stuff away in a slightly calmer manner than when Clark had first entered.
"You did?" Clark replied, Jackson's words surprising him again. He frowned, wondering if Derek had seen any of the game and if he knew that he hadn't stopped Scott from playing. If he did, Clark knew that conversation was going to be fun.
Jackson nodded and raised an eyebrow at Clark's troubled expression. "Aren't you supposed to be happy?" He used Clark's earlier question against.
"Oh, you're hilarious!" Clark muttered, tone dripping in sarcasm as he rolled his eyes at the smug look Jackson had on his face for effectively turning the tables. Clark sighed before explaining, "I'm glad he's out. He's still my brother and I don't want he being accused of something he didn't do but I'm still more than pissed about how he lied to me. I'm certainly not in the mood to go home and face him right now." Clark studied one of the benches. "Maybe I'll just sleep here. I mean, one night in the school isn't going to kill me, is it?"
"You're not spending the night at the school," Jackson told him matter-of-factly as he did up the zipper on his bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder.
"Oh, come on! What's the worse that can happen?" Clark questioned, laying down on the bench and popping his lacrosse shirt under his head to prove his point that he could sleep there. "The janitor flipping out if he catches me," he answered his own question.
Jackson pulled the shirt out from underneath Clark's head, resulting in Clark slamming his head against the hard wood of the bench. He sat up, rubbing the back of his head and shooting a glare at Jackson as the other boy insisted, "You're not sleeping here. There's plenty of spare room at my house."
"Ooooh," Clark drew out, illustrating that Jackson had caught his interest, and he jumped up onto his feet. "Does this mean I get to drive the Porsche?"
Jackson laughed, "Not a chance."
-TW:H-
The tire swing hanging from one of the many trees outside the large house swung a little in the steady breeze. Moonlight from the full moon hanging in the night sky was the strongest of two sources of slight in the clearing; the second, the warm orange light escaping the windows of the solitary house.
Clark stepped out from behind one of the trees and into the moonlit clearing in front of the house. The sound of chatter and joy reached his ears, travelling from the people-filled house across the way. Clark's attention was drawn to a dark figure a few steps in front of him who was busy pouring liquid onto the floor. Clark couldn't make out exactly what he was up to but the uneasy feeling in his stomach suggested it was nothing good.
As Clark took a step forward, determined to investigate further, a third light source was added to the clearing. It was small but easy to see in the poorly lit clearing and came from the hand of the dark figure ahead of him. A small, orange flicker. A flame, no doubt sourced from a lighter. The flame was small but it took away the darkness and mystery from the previously dark figure. Derek.
"Derek?" Clark called out cautiously. He was lost and confused. He had gone to Jackson's house. How had he ended up at his house? Who were all the people in it? Who had rebuilt it? Why wasn't it fire damaged? Clark's eyes widened in realisation as he looked from the lighter in Derek's hand to the liquid he'd seen him pour on the floor; liquid which made a trail leading right up to the front door of the house. "No. This isn't what happened."
Derek, who had until that point been focused solely on the flame in his hand, rounded on him. "How would you know?" Derek spat out, his eyes a dangerous blue and a sadistic smile crept across his face. "You're just a kid. We don't tell you anything. Except what we want you to believe."
"Wha-? We?" Clark spluttered out, lost for words and completely unnerved by the version of his brother in front of him with his hand holding the lighter so loosely he could drop it at any minute.
Derek let out a laugh; a truly calculating and unnatural laugh which made Clark swallow uneasily. "Little Clark Hale. Stumbling around, completely blind to what's going on around him."
"So pathetically clueless." The harsh voice which suddenly came from behind him made Clark jump and he spun around, heart beating out of his chest, to see Laura, smirking as she walked past him to join Derek.
Clark wanted to scream and shout as loud as he could, to protest that it wasn't real and that nothing they were saying was true but his throat was dry and his voice betrayed him. He was left helpless with nothing to do but stare at them in horror as they laughed at him, taking a lot of amusement from his situation.
"We've lied to you all your life. And you believed us, you naïve fool," Derek shot at him, twirling the lighter in his hand like it was nothing. The way he played with it so easily, knowing full well what would happen if he were to drop it, made Clark feel physically sick.
"Now, it's time you know the truth," Laura declared.
Derek's manic grin faltered then disappeared entirely and the lighter in his hand was stopped still, "What?"
"No more lies," Laura insisted. "It's time we stopped lying. It's time he knew the truth."
If looks could kill, Laura would be dead given the glare Derek was shooting in her direction. "I'm not ready," he snarled. Before Clark could do anything, the lighter left Derek's hand. In an instant, the clearing was filled with light and warmth as a river of roaring flame paved the way from Derek to the house. Bloodcurdling screams echoed from the house as it lit up but there was an equally horrific sight occurring right in front of Clark's eyes.
His legs were rooted to the spot and he could do nothing but stare in sickening horror as his brother mauled his sister to death just feet away from him and against the backdrop of their family burning alive.
-TW:H-
Jackson wasn't woken by the all-too familiar and annoyingly insistent and high-pitched bleeping of his alarm clock but by the sound of shouts from the other room. Half-asleep and dazed, Jackson stumbled out of his bed, groaning at the sight of the clock with read 3.14am. "It's far too early for this," he grumbled to himself as he stumbled towards his bedroom door. "What the hell is he playing at?" He continued to mutter away to himself as he opened the door and made the short journey across the hall to the guest bedroom.
Jackson liked his sleep and he definitely did not appreciate getting woken up in the middle of the night. Not bothering to knock, determined to get Clark to shut up and return to sleeping himself as soon as possible, Jackson barged through the door and hit the light switch to the right of it with purpose. He had to squint as the sudden influx of light started his pupils but they quickly adjusted.
Clark sat upright abruptly in the bed as light flooded the room, pulling him out of his night terrors. He was gasping for air as his light brown hair flopped over his forehead, sticking to it from the sweat that had gathered. Clark's brown eyes darted around the unfamiliar room, lost and confused until they landed on Jackson and a hinted of recognition flickered in them.
Jackson immediately felt awkward, a feeling echoed by Clark as he slowly realised what must have happened. Feeling vulnerable - an emotion he hated experiencing, especially around Jackson - Clark resorted pulling his knees up against his chest in an attempt to shield himself. Jackson, meanwhile, had no idea what to say as he awkwardly lingered near the door. He was fighting the urge to simply turn and reunite with his own bed because that would only make things more awkward in the morning. Clark had once been his best friend; after meeting on their first day of kindergarten, the two boys had quickly become inseparable and Jackson had grown up telling him everything. But after six years of no contact, Jackson had no idea where he stood with Clark any longer. Things felt different. He put it down to the fact that they weren't kids anymore.
"I could have kicked the door in. You had me thinking someone was murdering you," Jackson eventually spoke jokingly.
Clark took in a sharp breath as images of Laura being torn in half before his very eyes flashed in his mind as a result of Jackson's comment. He quickly pushed them away and forced a smile because he couldn't have Jackson seeing how imperfect he was. It had hit him when Coach had benched him; the reason why things with Jackson had felt off ever since his return. Jackson was perfect; he was the popular guy, the top athlete who was captain of both the lacrosse and swim teams with the perfect girlfriend and the perfect best friend in Danny who everybody seemed to like in an infuriating way. Clark, who'd lost the majority of his family to a fire and whose sister was the dead girl the entire school had been whispering about for the past week, was not perfect and this would not help his attempts to rebuild the friendship that they'd once have. "And you expected to chase off a murderer with your bare hands?" Clark observed as he forced himself to match Jackson's joking tone.
"I'm that good," Jackson shrugged arrogantly.
"Yeah… right," Clark muttered, not at all convinced and rolling his eyes at Jackson's statement.
If he'd had something soft like a pillow to hand, Jackson would have thrown it at him. Instead, the nearest thing he had was his collection of sports trophies over the years. Not only did he decide it was best not to injure Clark, he also didn't want to damage one of his trophies. He was begrudgingly left with no choice but to let the comment slide. "Since there's no threat to your life, I'm going back to bed," Jackson declared.
As Jackson's hand reached for the light switch, Clark didn't think being plunged into darkness would be overly comforting following the images his brain had dreamt up for him. "Hey Jackson," Clark had intended to sound casual but the words came out in a hurry, determined to stop him before he turned the light off. Jackson stopped before he reached the light and looked at Clark with intrigue. "You remember all those sleepovers we used to have?"
"I remember you frequently spending the night here. We never did them at your house," Jackson confirmed that he did remember.
"My house was permanently like the start of Home Alone. My mom would never let us add to the chaos," Clark reminded him of the childhood excuse he'd had for rarely inviting Jackson to his. "We used to sleep in the same room; head and tail in the bed and no matter how hard we tried, we never did successfully pull an all-nighter," Clark reminisced, the slightest smile appearing on his face as he remembered all the stupid things they got up to. Pillow fights, pranks and sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night for snacks without alerting his parents. They had always made it overly dramatic, acting as if they had suddenly found themselves in the middle of a Mission Impossible movie.
Jackson hesitated and eyed the light switch wistfully; he had been set on quietening Clark and returning to his peaceful sleep. Clark's shouts had stopped. Mission Accomplished! Yet, for a reason inexplicable to Jackson himself, he found himself creeping further into the guest room and sitting himself down on the edge of the bed. "Yeah 'cause you always fell asleep," He shovelled all the blame in Clark's direction for their continuous fails over their early years.
Clark appeared to relax a little once Jackson was away from the light switch. His shoulders untensed and his wide, alert eyes lightened as he took in the teenager perching on the end of the bed. "No way!" Clark protested with a smile which didn't quite reach his eyes. "You always crashed first."
Jackson shook his head adamantly, "You're remembering it wrong."
"Instead of arguing about it, I propose a rematch," Clark suggested, loosening his grip around his legs and stretching them out down the length of the bed. "Right here. Right now. See who falls asleep first."
Jackson was no longer the child he had been when they had plotted to stay awake the entire night. He was a teenager. A teenager who, liked the majority of teenagers, loved and valued his sleep. A teenager who, with school, lacrosse, swimming and maintaining his social life and reputation, never got enough sleep. Sleep was precious to him but if there was one thing that Jackson hated more than anything, it was losing. Clark's challenge may have been childish - and secretly a ploy to avoid being left alone - but Jackson was determined to win it. "You're on." Jackson accepted and stifled a yawn before confidently stating, "You're going down."
"Not a chance," Clark insisted with a shake of his head. He had become the king of sleep deprivation recently. There was a moment of silence which followed in which both boys were determined to keep themselves alert and awake. Clark found himself staring into Jackson's blue eyes, willing them to close whilst marvelling at just how blue they were. They were like a utopian ocean, free of pollution. He had never picked up on that before. Weird. "Hey man," Clark spoke up as he propped himself up against the headboard with one of the many pillows on the bed - who needed six pillows? "Since it's three in the morning and we're depriving ourselves of sleep for childish reasons, can I get real for you?"
Jackson was surprised at Clark's tone; there was a sincerity to it which suggested things were about to get serious. He scoffed, keeping things light-hearted himself, "Dude, if you're about to tell me you've got a thing for McCall, I don't want to hear it."
Clark let out an exasperated sigh. "You need to get your hearing tested. I've already told you at least twice that I don't."
Jackson didn't miss a beat, "Which is why you spent the majority of our chemistry lesson on Monday staring at him."
Clark remembered that chemistry lesson perfectly; at least he could remember watching Scott for the entirety of it. He couldn't remember anything that Mr Harris had taught them. Chemistry had been their first lesson of the day and Clark had been staring at Scott thinking all about how his life would be so much easier had Scott not gotten bitten. Until that point, Clark had been completely unaware that Jackson had spotted him. "You said it yourself! Something's going on with him!" It was the only excuse that Clark's sleep deprived brain could think up in the moment. It was only after he'd said it that he realised it would only spur Jackson's determination to find out exactly what Scott was up to.
"So you do agree with me!" Jackson realised and leaned forward, as if he was getting ready to discuss theories.
"This isn't what I wanted to talk about," Clark interjected quickly before Jackson could continue. He could only hope that Jackson was too tired to remember the conversation in the morning. In the meantime, he hastily guided the conversation back on track. "Do you feel like things have been different? Ever since I came back?"
"McCall's started taking steroids," Jackson began to list off and Clark had to hold back a groan. Jackson was really focused on the cause of Scott's miraculous lacrosse abilities. Jackson was like a dog with a bone once his mind was set on something. It was only another thing adding to the complexity of his life since returning to Beacon Hills. "Jamie's obsessed with ghosts." Oh, and there was another.
Clark interrupted Jackson before he could continue to highlight all of Clark's problems. Jackson had misunderstood him. "That's not what I mean. I mean are we different?"
Jackson stared at him as if he had asked the most ridiculous question. "We're both six years older. We've both gotten taller. We've both started working out," Jackson started listing off, completely misinterpreting Clark's question for the second time. Clark didn't stop him immediately, however, and ignored him as he continued on. His attention had immediately drifted from Jackson's words when his friend had mentioned working out. Instead, Clark's eyes had meandered down to Jackson's shirtless body; his muscle definition clear and impressive.
Clark's eyes snapped upwards in an instant when he caught himself checking out his friend. His brown eyes met Jackson's oblivious blue ones; the same eyes he'd almost gotten lost in a few minutes earlier. His thoughts wandered back to the first time he'd seen Lydia and Jackson together and the brief but strong shoot of jealousy he had felt when they had kissed. He hadn't been able to explain it at the time but Clark's own eyes widened and his heart rate quickened as he realised exactly what was happening.
He was crushing on his childhood best friend.
As if he didn't already have enough problems.
-TW:H-
An hour had passed since they had started their little challenge and Jackson smiled smugly as he watched Clark's eyes flutter to a shut and his shoulders slump, giving into sleep. Jackson's long awaited victory was anticlimactic with no one around to celebrate with. Jackson had known for sure within five minutes of them starting the challenge that he had it in the bag. Clark had suddenly gone really quiet, leaving Jackson to do most of the talking to which he had gotten minimalistic grunts and nods in response.
Jackson stood up, finally able to return to his own bed. The clock on the wall read 4.40am, leaving Jackson with the chance to get two and a half hours sleep in his own bed before he would have to get up and ready for another day of school. It wasn't ideal but it was something at least. He was across the room in an instant, his bed calling him, and his hand was inches away from the light switch when he heard it.
Unintelligible mumbles travelled across the room to his ears, escaping from Clark's mouth. Glancing over his shoulder, Jackson caught sight of Clark's body making harsh movements in his sleep. The nightmares had evidently returned. Jackson hadn't realised that Clark suffered from them but his overly tired appearance at school and the occasional times he'd nudged Clark awake at the back of their history class suddenly made sense. For the second time that night, Jackson's hand retreated from the light switch without turning it off.
His return to the bed Clark lied on was slower than the speed at which he had left. Clark's movements increased in franticness in the time it took Jackson to make the small journey from the door to the bed. Upon reaching the bed, Jackson hesitated but eventually placed a hand down on Clark's shoulder.
Clark had to be a light sleeper for as soon as Jackson's hand made contact with his shoulder, he stirred. His eyes flickered open and Jackson marvelled at how drained and exhausted Clark suddenly looked to him. Clark's brow furrowed as he realised that Jackson was standing over him and no longer sitting on the end of the bed. "You fell asleep," Jackson stated, unable to hide the smugness in his voice as he brought that up. He had to share his victory with someone. "Then you started having your nightmare again."
"Nothing new there," Clark muttered in exhaustion, struggling to keep his eyes open as he spoke.
Jackson felt a pang of sympathy for the guy. There he was complaining about one night's interrupted sleep when Clark was obviously sleep deprived. He should have seen it before - he had seen it before - but he had been too caught up with lacrosse, Scott and his shoulder to do anything about it. Jackson was not one to feel guilt often but the sudden vulnerability that he could see in Clark flooded him with it. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut.
Jackson shifted awkwardly onto the bed beside Clark whose head jerked towards him immediately. Unbeknownst to Jackson, Clark's heartbeat began racing as their arms brushed against each other. Clark had never been so relieved that Jackson wasn't a werewolf. Not only was Jackson's temperament bad for a werewolf but Clark did not need him picking up on the way his heartbeat surged when they had touched.
In his half-asleep daze, Clark's surprised look at Jackson's actions came across as a look that demanded to know what he thought he was doing. Jackson was more than surprised at the bitter disappointment he felt from that reaction. He was everyone's type; Clark should want to be in bed with him. Jackson faltered; why was he even thinking about Clark wanting that. He hurriedly cleared his mind, moving on quickly with a determination to focus on Clark's nightmare problem. "You know I went through a period of having nightmares," Jackson revealed to him before hastily adding, "When I was like… five."
Clark stared at him blankly, too tired to talk. The blank look made Jackson question whether he was even taking in what he was saying. "It always helped me to sleep when my mom… stayed with me," Jackson admitted slowly. When Clark didn't protest to what he was insinuating, continuing to stare blankly with occasional heavy blinks, Jackson shuffled further down the bed until he was able to rest his head on the pillows. He was laying on his side, staring at Clark who was on the far side of the bed. "My mom used to do this thing. It… uh, it helped," He explained awkwardly before shuffling closer because if he really wanted to help Clark to get a few hours of peaceful sleep, he couldn't do it from the other side of the bed.
Jackson hesitated again as he stopped shuffling and ended up half a pillow's length from Clark. The other teenager was making him unsure of his actions. He didn't know why and he didn't like it.
Slowly, Jackson reached his hand out and tentatively started playing with Clark's dark brown hair. It was something his mom used to do following the spurt of nightmares he had after first finding out he was adopted. His adoptive parents had told him as soon as they thought he was old enough to understand but they'd left out the more gruesome information that they had died in a car crash until he was slightly older. Five year old Jackson had been plagued by nightmares of two sets of parents fighting over him. Looking back, Jackson realised that was not a nightmare; the nightmare was the reality.
Nevertheless, five year old Jackson had always found his mom playing with his hair after a nightmare reassuring and had decided it was worth a try to help Clark. He relaxed when Clark didn't immediately pull away from him. Instead, Clark did the opposite and shifted closer to him until his head was resting against Jackson's chest. Jackson caught himself smiling at the intimate movement, watching as Clark drifted off to sleep to the sound of his heartbeat of the feeling of his fingers running through his hair. Jackson followed suit only a few minutes later.
-TW:H-
A/N: Thank you to the new followers!
This chapter was a real pain to write and edit because of how hard I was trying to keep Jackson in character throughout it.
I do mean what I said last chapter though. This Clark/Jackson thing will be extremely slow burning.
Feedback is appreciated!