Apologies for the longer wait than the rest. Kinda had stuff happening, a mix of "my house has been dealing with weather damages", my ADHD easily distracting me with other things (*cough* Minecraft on Switch *cough*), and also, I got a birthday coming up. Enjoy the chapter, yay~
Of course, he had yet to watch the rest of the tapes. Perhaps now out of stubbornness and spite, as the cardboard box containing them remained tucked in a corner and so he had nothing really stopping him aside from his own inhibitions. Well, that and the horrible mockery of his little banana buddy that was taking residence in the box because Darkwing refused to remove it from the premises no matter how much Jacky pleaded with him to take it far, far away.
He just couldn't figure out how and why that thing came to be, because he was absolutely certain there was no way such a face could be envisioned by his hand. Sure, he's made toys that had a sort of twist to their designs aplenty, but most certainly never anything that stared at him with such a… well, such a mean look. It made Jacky's skin crawl and stole his breath from him, and it drove him crazy that he didn't understand why it made him feel that way.
Such a nasty little thing.
Darkwing, of course, made sure to leave that stupid newspaper behind, and left it folded on top of the cardboard box, as if he thought it would catch Jacky's interest. Oh, how clever he must have thought he was; it was honestly infuriating how Darkwing was doing everything he could to not answer a simple question.
What reason does he have to go through such lengths to hide that from you? He's toying with you; he either doesn't really know or he knows and he's taking joy in you not knowing…
If he was going to be perfectly frank, Jacky was getting tired of that little internal voice. It was neither helpful nor insightful, and it just seemed to be constantly parroting his concerns like a broken record. He couldn't tell if it was being intentionally malicious, or if it just didn't know any better. And personally, he didn't care either way.
He picked up the newspaper with the intent of shoving it in the box along with the rest of the useless junk he wanted out of his sight, but hesitated when it unrolled as he lifted it from the top of the box. He was now staring at the front page image, full color, ink slightly smudged from whatever reason, but legible nonetheless.
It was a picture still frame from one of the surveillance tapes, and goodness, Jacky never felt more detached from a photo of himself than he did with this one. Even with the dotted ink newsprint, the sight of that wide empty grin that was spread across his face just seemed so chilling, as if it simply wasn't himself in control. The way his feet set on the floor, his posture, the glassy eyes… oh, this was a bad photo of him, very bad. Very, very bad.
It was then he realized that the fold of the newspaper had caused him to overlook another detail. Frowning, he grabbed both the top and bottom of the page and straightened it out to see better. Dots. Dotted little speckles of color made the image, but he squinted and pulled the page away from his face to better make out the thing in the image, which appeared to be something vaguely familiar in shape, something that sat in his hands in the image.
It looked like, for lack of a better term, a "sharp banana".
At that precise moment, Jacky felt as if his very essence of being had transcended to another plane of existence and simply could not connect with his physical form. It was hard to describe, but it felt like he was nowhere, absolutely nowhere, free falling down a rabbit hole of uncertainty as he gawked at that image in the newsprint. His ears did not hear, his eyes simply saw nothing but that photograph, his chest felt heavy, his limbs felt weak, his head felt fuzzy and full of cotton.
He wasn't sure how he managed, but somehow he was able to fight his way through the mental haze and back to reality, blinking in confusion as he realized he'd safely fallen backwards into the visitor chair during this bout of disorientation. The newspaper was still clenched tightly in his shaky hands, crinkling as his rigid fingers dug into the pages. It was a wonder how he hadn't torn the paper in half in his daze.
Well, ain't that a kick in the head? Sure looks like you do know about that scary looking banana thing after all.
He really didn't know how to respond to that, he didn't even know if he could respond to that, he just simply stared at the image on the page mutely.
You know that's true deep down, you wanted to deny it so badly, but you know that he's one of your creations.
Jacky calmly folded the newspaper and set it on the top of the cardboard box, then carefully stood from the chair and stepped to the bed to grab his pillow, buried his face and screamed into it to muffle the noise as he dropped back into the chair.
You can't keep ignoring me, you're going to have to respond eventually. Although, I suppose that screaming into a pillow is good instant emotional therapy. I guess. I'm not a doctor.
He still did not respond directly to that internal voice, but felt himself instinctively curl around that pillow, bringing his feet off the floor and sinking into a less traditional position in the chair, essentially squeezing his entire balled up body between the two armrests, making his world feel very small and contained. It was oddly comforting that way, even if it was going to make the back of his neck sore once he got up again.
Oh, very well, whatever makes you feel better, I'll be here when you get back to me on that. Take your time, I can wait.
It didn't matter to him, really. He had no memory of creating that twisted incarnation of his dear little buddy, so he didn't have to own up to it as far he felt. It was not his. It was not his and he was going to just stay there and listen to the rhythm in his breaths, because it was not his.
Jacky wasn't sure how long he must have been laying there, but he eventually heard a light and polite sounding knock on the door of his room, which made him sit up quickly, flinching from the tired and sore muscles of his neck as he flung a hand to it while he stepped awkwardly to the door.
"... Yes..?" His voice sounded softer and more tired than he'd intended to sound, if also a bit raspy as well, as if he was on the verge of bursting into tears. Which in itself he thought odd because he thought he had been doing quite well at keeping it together at the moment.
The latch clicked loudly and door was pushed open to let Claire in, who set her canvas tote bag down on the floor and immediately looked at him with concern.
"What happened? You're upset, Jacky."
Honestly, he was confused as to how she could tell, until he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the gleam of the observation window at that angle, and was stunned to see tears were actively rolling down his face.
He absolutely hated how his emotional state didn't sync up with with he wanted to present things. He probably looked like a mess.
Jacky cursed under his breath and roughly wiped his face with his arm, continuing to mumble words of displeasure to himself before he finally spoke to her, feeling warm in the face.
"... Nothing, it's just… bad day, I'm just having a bad day…"
He didn't have much time to respond when he realized she had grabbed his hand and led him to his bed, practically lifted him onto it (which honestly surprised him, as he gawked), stacked the pillows behind him to prop him up comfortably, and pulled the cord to the window shades to open them up and let in more light.
Jacky blinked several times.
"... Okay, but the fact that it's nice outside doesn't really help at all if I'm stuck in this boring hospital room."
"But, it does help if you've been spending the whole morning in a dark room."
"... Fair point." He agreed quietly, watching Claire as she stepped around the bed to get the canvas bag from the other side of the room. "What's up with the bag?"
"Well, I thought it might be a breath of fresh air to bring something to do since you've been feeling cooped up."
"Oh?" He was definitely curious now, and the earlier shock of the newspaper discovery was pushed to the back of his mind as he sat up straighter. "Like what kind of things?"
"Just some puzzle books and cards and a few crafts." She said, dumping the bag on the bed and spreading out the contents. "You sound better already."
"Gosh, I don't know if I'd be any good at crafts anymore, with my dexterity being affected from the head injury, but that all does sound nice."
"You don't have to be good at it all, the goal here is to have fun."
"... I like fun. Fun is good." Jacky smiled weakly and reached for a sealed pack of playing cards. "Oh, these are nice. I like the old simple ones, there's so much you can do with them."
"You want to play with the cards?"
"Now, now, let me look at the rest of the stuff first before I figure out what I want to do. The other things sound good too."
"Now, I admit that it's nothing too fancy, but I tried to go for variety and not make it too simple, because we need to work that brain a little."
"Oh, but it's still healing." Jacky said with a playfully singsong tone. "Do go easy on it; it's such a fragile thing."
"You certainly seem to be in a better mood now."
"You're here." He said. "It makes a deal of difference when one isn't alone." Jacky picked up one of the books and looked at it, idly flipping through the pages. "Oh? Sudoku? That's a number puzzle, are you sure that's not going to be too complicated? I mean, I'm good with numbers, but I haven't really done math stuff, at least since after the accident."
"It starts simple and gets harder when you get further in the book, I think it might be good to give it a try." Claire smiled at him. "You can also work on them when I'm not around, so it'll give you something to do besides just waiting for company."
"Oh, you thought of everything, didn't you?" He closed the book and set it on the bedside table. "... So, how much about what I did do you know about?"
"Jacky, you know I can't say anything that'll-"
"-Compromise my retained memory, I know that, I'm not asking you to tell me what happened, I just want to know if you know a lot or a little on what went down."
"Jacky-"
"Would you still be coming here if you knew if I'd hurt anyone?"
Before she could really process what he had said (as he'd spoken so abruptly), Claire realized that the spark behind his eyes that had lit up when she'd shown him the bag full of activities was now snuffed, and he seemed just as listless and forlorn as he'd been that day she'd been called to take him home from QuackWerks after he'd had an anxiety attack in the middle of the day.
Her unintentional silence caused him to squeak in a way that really didn't help resolve the issue much. He was upset, he'd been upset this whole time, and he was going to continue being upset until his current worry was put to rest. She had a feeling that this was probably connected to why he'd been wiping tears from his face when she got there.
She needed to defuse the situation before he got the wrong idea.
"You're having a bad day, Jacky, what's wrong?"
"... Claire, that doesn't answer my question."
"And I don't think I can give you a satisfying answer. If I say yes or no, you'll still be upset, just for different reasons."
"So which one is the right answer?"
"Jacky, I have been coming here at every single possible chance, and I have been doing so since you were brought here, are you really thinking I have doubts about you?"
His answer was something inaudible due to his voice pitch having raised to a distressed squawk, but the rhythm of the statement was clear that he was, as she suspected, upset with the answer, and it had done nothing to douse those rising negative feelings.
Be patient with him, he's still recovering, and doesn't always understand why he's doing things like this… Claire reminded herself as she briefly pinched the bridge of her beak, trying to find a peaceful way to resolve this.
"Okay, why don't we start this over? What's on your mind, Jacky? What's got you so worked up?"
Another inaudible stream of high pitched words escaped him as he gestured along with it this time, in the general direction of the cardboard box in the corner. This time, the words "banana monster" seemed to sound off more clearly, along with "front page" and "dunno". At this point, Claire realized there was a newspaper folded on top of the cardboard box, and wondered if this was the source of the distress. She made the motion to step towards it to inspect it, but Jacky shook his head very quickly, and grabbed her arm with a desperate noise of dread.
"... D-Don't look at that, I don't want you to…"
"Okay."
He clearly hadn't expected that response. He let go of her arm as his grip had gone slack. He stared as if genuinely confused by the turn of events.
"... You're not supposed to give up that fast."
"It really doesn't do either of us a bit of good to drag this out. So, if you say you don't want me to look at that, then I won't. We'll find something else to do."
"... You're really not going to ask why I don't want you to look at that newspaper?"
"You said 'no', so I won't."
Jacky sat there, hands folded loosely in his lap, legs crossed at the ankles, staring at his feet for a solid minute.
"... That's not how that works." He said, looking up finally. "You can't tell me you're not the least bit curious about why I'm upset over newsprint."
"I never said that I wasn't curious; I said that I won't look at it because you asked me not to."
"... That's not the way that's supposed to go." Jacky seemed to have forgotten momentarily that he'd been upset about something else entirely. He frowned just a little bit. "Why aren't you prying more about that?"
"Because I came here to have a nice quiet afternoon with you, so you can get your mind off all that."
"... Darkwing would have-"
"Did Darkwing leave that newspaper in here?" "... Kinda. I wanted it because it had the comic pages."
"And he left the whole thing, not just the comic pages?"
"... Yes."
"... Of course he did." Claire said in a tone that suggested that she didn't expect otherwise. Before she could ask further on the concept, she noticed that Jacky was actively trying to peel the protective plastic off of a deck of cards, but because he couldn't quite get leverage on the corner edge, he did what just about everyone does at some point in that predicament and bit down on the edge of the plastic to tear it off the more practical way. "Oh, you think you want to use the cards first?"
Jacky spat that little corner piece of plastic wrap out of his mouth before answering.
"I'm not sure yet, but I kind of want to see the deck design first." He said, pulling the cards out of the box and spreading them across the bedspread. "Ooh, retro classic, nice. I like."
"I figured you'd prefer that over some licensed-"
"Let's make a card house."
"Card house?" Claire hadn't expected such a concept to be tossed out in the open so soon. "Are you sure your hands are steady enough for that right now?"
"I got some modeling compound left over, we could cheat a bit and use it like putty to hold them together." Jacky grinned, already rifling through the bedside table drawer. "It's not cheating; I'm adapting."
Claire would have to agree on that, if only because it was nice to see him light up like that at the thought.
He really did not like having to ride in the Thunderquack by now. Not that he could recall ever enjoying a ride before in any of his retained memories, but he knew his last few rides were less than desirable.
That said, he could not decide if this ride was any better than the last time, as he felt just as disoriented and miserable as before. It wasn't so much that it was a rough ride (the orientation of the aircraft was quite smooth, amazingly enough), it was just that he was finding the movement incredibly uncomfortable.
He was absolutely certain now that he was susceptible to airsickness, and could only hope he would fair better with a land bound vehicle.
"... Whuh-why couldn't we juh-just use the other thing..?" Jacky stuttered through clenched teeth, trying to keep them from chattering.
"Could you imagine us trying to fit four people on the Ratcatcher? Not happening; it's just not practical or safe."
"... At least it'd be on the guh-ground."
"Yeah, but this way is faster anyway."
Jacky wasn't really in the mood to argue much at all; while precautions had been taken to make the ride easier on his frail constitution, it still wasn't totally foolproof, so he still felt somewhat queasy. It probably didn't help that it all made him feel vulnerable, which was a feeling he was getting all too used to now.
"... Remind me again why we're going there?" Claire voiced the exact same thought he had had.
"Well, as it turns out, when Jacky tried to flush the tapes down the toilet, there had in fact been one that was damaged in the process, and I'm hoping to be able to retrieve another copy."
"You said those weren't the master tapes! What happened to the copies you already had!" Jacky snapped.
"... It's a funny story involving a skateboard and a… You know what, it's not really important how it happened, I just need to get the tape for the case we're building."
"... Dunno why you had to bring me along, I can't imagine what I could do to help…"
Jacky didn't exactly hear the response as his senses suddenly tuned out (from what he could only assume was a bout of sensory overload), and he was left staring at Darkwing in absolute confusion.
"... I'm sorry, what?" He mumbled, feeling heat spreading across his face. He swallowed.
"To be honest, I hadn't planned on bringing you along, but you've been wanting to get out of that hospital room."
"Then take me to the park or something! I swear, it feels like you are harassing me like this on purpose, Darkwing."
"You don't have to go into the building with me, I just have to grab the tape and I'll be out of there in a few minutes, I really don't have any other reason to be there."
"Then get the tapes on your own time and stop dragging me along in this barf inducing contraption, I am seriously losing my nerve right now!"
Jacky wasn't really exaggerating; the continuous stacking of one little discomfort after another was steadily chipping away at his tolerance levels, and being disoriented while being contained in the backseat of an airborne vehicle wasn't helping in keeping him calm. The shuddering of the aircraft vibrated through his nervous system, and agitated his sensitivity to motion. He was absolutely envious of everyone else's resistance to the sensation, and cursed the head injury for being the catalyst for the ailment.
"... He's just having a bad day right now." Claire said apologetically, and the tone honestly struck a nerve with Jacky, who immediately felt like he might have been unreasonable.
"... You don't have to excuse my behavior, Claire. If I'm out of line, don't hesitate to remind me to calm down…" He said quietly, fidgeting restlessly as he kept his eyes locked on the window beside him. "... I know I don't exactly make it easy…"
"Well, I have to agree with you a little; it's a bit unnecessary to drag you along with him to get those tapes."
"Thank you! Yes!" Jacky clapped his hands rhythmically. "You hear that, Darkwing? You should do that on your own time, and leave me out of this."
"I have a life outside of this, you know?" Darkwing heaved a sigh through his teeth and shot a glare over the headrest of the front seat.
"Don't talk to me about that, your secret identity is the whole reason I even lost Mr. Banana Brain to begin with!"
"Excuse me! You are in no position to making accusations like that, you are just as responsible-!"
At that exact moment, the built-in radio was turned up to a level loud enough to drown them out, while still not being ear-blastingly thunderous (though, Jacky clapped his hands to his head in reaction to the sudden noise, which honestly didn't do much to help his discomfort). Three sets of eyes immediately shifted towards the pilot, and Launchpad grinned sheepishly as he turned the volume dial to the left.
"Sorry."
"... Are we there yet..?" Jacky sank back into his seat, appearing to be quite miserable again and shivered as a chill ran through him. "... I don't want to sound rude… but… I feel gross…"
"Gross as in 'uncomfortable gross' or 'sick gross'?" Claire looked at him.
"... Yes."
"Oh." There was a cringing expression that crossed her face briefly before she spoke to the front of the vehicle. "Yeah, he's not doing too good right now, what's the ETA for touching solid ground?"
"... Never had this problem before… stupid head injury…" Jacky mumbled under his breath, shaking his head and pushing a foot against the seat in front of him and kicked. "... Stupid, stupid, can't go anywhere without getting sick, hate this, I hate this, this is the absolute worst, I hate this, ugh…"
The seat he was kicking happened to be Darkwing's, and Claire could see that the Masked Mallard was very close to snapping about that, but seemed to bite his tongue in regards to the situation, and tried a different approach.
"Jacky." He said in a very forced calm tone. "Is there anything I can do to make this ride any easier on you."
"Land the aircraft, get me out of here."
"Well, I can't do that, I'm not the pilot and we're just not there yet." Darkwing's grin was very deliberate, and it wasn't hard to see that he was also losing his patience, but he at least had the consideration to remember that he was dealing with an ailing individual. "I can, however, direct the AC vents your way, or bring to your attention that there are airsickness bags tucked into that pocket on the back of the seat that you currently have your foot on."
"... I wanna get out of here…" Jacky's eyes were round and he reached out awkwardly for Claire's hand, appearing to be increasingly distressed as the seconds passed. "... I… I don't like this…"
"Jacky, are you feeling alright?" Claire had a feeling that she knew what was going on with him right now, but it was important to approach subject carefully. She took his hand.
"No."
"What's got you upset?"
"... I-I dunno." He stammered, clenching his jaw shut, which was starting to shake along with the rest of him.
"Can you breathe?"
"... It's a little heavy…"
"Is there anything that can be done to help?"
"... Get me outta here…"
"We're working on that, can you hang on for a little longer?"
"... I want out… I feel gross…" He brought his feet up to rest them on his seat.
"Jacky, do you feel like you're having a panic attack?"
"... I don't want to be in here…"
Before anything else could be said between the two of them, a small boxy object was pushed in front of Jacky face, and he stared at it in confusion.
"Here, fidget with this." Darkwing said in an almost matter-of-fact tone. "You like old toys, it's a puzzle cube."
Jacky blinked several times, anxiety still squirming in his frame. He didn't seem to recognize that as an earnest gesture, and almost looked somewhat offended.
"I can barely make anything decent out of clay, what makes you think that I can solve a puzzle cube with brain damage!"
"Who said anything about solving it? I figured you might want something else to focus on, and you can just spin the pieces around."
"I know how a puzzle cube works... Why do you even have one of these laying around, anyway?"
"Do you want it or not?"
Jacky stared at him, squinting and cocking his head to the side, before he snatched the cube with shaky hands and a mumble of gratitude, then proceeded to idly rotate the pieces in a jumble of colors.
"... I still feel gross, and I still want out of here…" He grunted discontentedly.
"You're welcome."
After what felt like forever enough, the Thunderquack finally jolted to a stop, and the puzzle cube fell from Jacky's hands as he lurched forward with the movement in a dazed sort of state of mind. There was a pause before he started fumbling with the seat belt in a desperate attempt to free himself from the safety restraints.
"Get me out of this thing! I want out! I never even wanted to come along in the first place, I don't know how you managed to talk me into this, get this stupid thing off me!" He screamed, very obviously forgetting that to free himself, he simply had to disengage the latch for the seat belt.
Of course, trying to reason with him in this state was useless, and it was best for one to work around his panic while acknowledging his feelings were valid and that they were doing their best to accommodate him. Once untangled from the restraints, Jacky wasted no time in trying to climb into front seat to presumably crawl out the exit hatch, clawing at the windows in an anxiety fueled crazed bid for freedom, screeching like a mad thing.
Somewhere among the chaos, Darkwing found himself wondering how he could have possibly been kicked in the beak, twice, as Jacky continued to scrabble his hands across the smooth glass.
"... If you just wait for a few seconds, we'll be happy to get the doors open so you can step outside, Jacky." Darkwing said in a very level tone, as Jacky froze. The Masked Mallard prodded at his own jaw to assess the soreness levels. "There is absolutely no danger in here."
Jacky stared at him in a total state of stupor, as if he could barely understand the words that had just been spoken to him. Darkwing took this as a moment to push him away and onto the hump between the two front seats, where he sat awkwardly, still appearing to be very confused.
Jacky blinked rapidly for a few seconds before pressing his hands to his forehead with a weak noise of discomfort, then rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms.
"... Whu-where am I..?" His voice escaped him in a mumble, and he lifted his head to look around. "... Whuzhappenin..? I thought I was over there..?" He gestured hesitantly to the empty seat beside Claire, before pressing a hand to his head again. "... My head hurts…"
There was a brief flash of concern that crossed Darkwing's face, as if he seemed to be wondering if Jacky may have struck his head during the scuffle, as this seemed to be compounded with a state of confusion and lack of awareness.
"Should... should we do something about that?" He looked at Claire, as if hoping she'd be more knowledgeable in the intricate details of the physical health of the toy maker duck. "Is he alright?"
"He gets like that after an anxiety attack, he'll usually be fine in a couple of hours. He's just a little drained; it wears him out."
"But, he's okay, right? Because, if he gets injured on my watch again-"
"Yes, this is normal, surprisingly. I've been with him for a good long while now, I'm absolutely sure. There's a certain way he acts when something is wrong, trust me, we'll know if we need to worry."
Jacky continued to look around before settling his gaze outside the windshield, rolling his eyes upward to look at the building they were parked in front of. A look of recognition and disdain flashed across his face.
"... Oh. Right… the tapes." He mumbled, at least sounding coherent now. He frowned sourly and pulled his line of sight towards Darkwing. "... Can you make that quick, please? I don't want to be here, I don't like how it makes me feel…"
"'Feel' as in resurfacing memories kind of feel or-?" Darkwing started to say before being cut off.
"No!" Jacky said loudly, sounding very annoyed. "Geeze, no, not every emotional stirring has to have a reason to it, I just don't like the idea of being here! Go get the stupid tapes so we can leave!"
"Would you at least like to step outside the Thunderquack so you can get some air while you wait?"
"Whatever, I don't care, I'm not having a good time right now, that'd be nice, thank you."
That had been said with a tone that gradually shifted from frustration to calm acceptance in one breath.
Darkwing grumbled under his breath something to the effect of "It's like dealing with middle-aged baby.", to which Jacky snapped back: "I am not that old."
Claire exchanged an exasperated look with Launchpad, who shrugged.
"Can I at least get my feet on solid ground, please, before you harass me further?"
"I am not harassing you!"
Jacky couldn't really remember the last time he felt the texture of asphalt under his feet. Maybe not so much because he couldn't recall due to his memory issues, but probably because he'd long made it a habit to keep the sensitive bottoms of his webbed feet covered with his soft soled shoes. The rough ground texture always seemed to irritate him, and he couldn't understand how many Ducks just seemed to walk about as if it simply wasn't an issue. The pavement's surface, while a little better, was just too hard and didn't have much give like the dirt ground had.
Because of this, he kept his feet on the lower bar of the stool as he sat down at the counter, looking around curiously.
"I haven't been to one of these places in months!" He said loud and earnestly.
With such enthusiasm, one would probably assume it was a sort of amusement park that had captivated him, but no, it was a simple Hamburger Hippos establishment. But, to him, it might as well have been the swankiest place in town.
"Well, you've been doing well with your recovery, and we got the okay for you to have a bit of a treat." Claire explained, smiling a little bit at the bouncing he was doing in the seat. "But, we still have to be cautious, since you haven't really had junk food in months, so it's not going to be anything too extravagant."
"Aw, so I can only get one thing, then?" Jacky seemed mildly disappointed before it really sunk in that he was really going to be able to have his first taste of fast food he could recall in recent memory. He grinned again. "Okay… nothing too extravagant, then. Cheeseburger?"
"Are you absolutely sure that's what you want? Because once we place the order down, we can't change it."
"Yep. Cheeseburger, please." Jacky nodded excitedly before a concerned look crossed his face. "... Wait, if we're going to get a ride back, should I really be eating if I'm just going to be sick again..?"
"... That's a good point. I suppose we could just bag it and give it to you when we get back to the hospital."
"Aw, but I'll have to wait until I'm not feeling gross, and it'll be cold by then." He huffed with a pouty expression before heaving a sigh. "... But, I suppose it's still better than not having a cheeseburger, and these aren't too bad cold. Not looking forward to the ride back, not gonna lie. But, on the other hand… Cheeseburger."
Of course, as explained, he had to wait to eat the cheeseburger (a waiting process that was made even more miserable by the bumpy ride back in the Thunderquack, with him audibly cursing under his breath every other minute), and even upon arrival to his temporary residence, Jacky had to wait a few hours until his stomach settled and he felt confident enough to be able to take a bite without losing it.
A very simple cheeseburger. Nothing too extravagant. Cheese, simple burger patty on a bun, ketchup, mustard…
But, he hadn't eaten anything remotely classified as junk food in months, so it was quite the emotional rollercoaster ride for him. He took one bite of the cold value menu cheeseburger and he was seized with such a sensation of euphoria that he found himself in tears despite not being sad at that moment.
Claire put a hand on his shoulder, as she had been sitting beside him while he ate, and he leaned sideways into her as he took another bite of burger.
"... I'm fine, I just forgot how good these things tasted." He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand as he grinned weakly. "Gosh, I'm getting all emotional over a sandwich… But, to be fair, I haven't had one of these in… I don't know, really. Quite honestly, I do not know. The last time I recall being there, we got fries and the tables were a little sticky, and I started those scrapbooks, the scrapbooks that didn't get dusty..." He swallowed and took another bite, eyes watering again. "... I'd had a nightmare the night before that, didn't I? That's what started all of this, wasn't it? You had to wake me up because I had a nightmare, and we talked about balloons for the rest of the night, until I fell asleep again. I remember that all so clearly, and now I can barely remember half the things I do anymore…"
"You're recovering, Jacky, it's going to be a long journey, but you've made progress." Claire tried to assure him. "You're walking much better now."
"I still limp a little."
"It's really not that noticeable."
"I notice it." Jacky insisted, taking one last bite of burger, silently disappointed that it hadn't lasted very long (he had a habit of taking large bites). "I'm very much aware that I'm just not as agile anymore."
Before he could really say anything else, Claire took his hand and pulled him to his feet. He blinked curiously as she took his other hand and slipped her fingers between his in an interlocking hold. His face turned pink under the feathers and he stammered awkwardly, feeling like he was turning to mush. It was not the first time he's held her hand, no of course not, but hand holding always felt so intimate to him, more so than other kinds of contact, and he just didn't know why.
Maybe it was just the simplicity of it. Darn if he knew.
She pulled him forward, then to the side, then gently pushed him back to where they had started, in an almost rhythmic way. It took him a few rounds before he understood what exactly was happening.
"... Claire, I can't dance. My balance is terrible now."
"You don't have to be good at it, just have fun."
"... I like fun." He admitted in a quiet voice, eyes locked to the floor as he tried to follow along with her steps. He couldn't help but feel like there was a definite delay between what he saw and his reflective movements. Not only that, but his awkward gait seemed to be so glaringly primitive compared to her more refined footwork. "... There's no music."
"We don't need it."
He could remember when there was a time where he had been quite the performer, quick on his feet and an impressive center of gravity that seemed to make it near impossible to throw him off balance. Now, here he was, shuffling with less finesse than a toddler. Embarrassing.
"... I can't do this."
"Try bending your knees."
"I'll fall. I can't dance, Claire."
"You won't. I got you." She rested a hand on his side, just under his arm.
His feathers ruffled briefly at the touch, and his face went from pink to red as a nervous giggle escaped him.
"... I don't remember if we've ever done this before. Have we done this before?"
"Not in a hospital room, I'm sure." He looked down at the floor to watch his steps again, but she let go of his hand to slide hers under his chin and lift his head. "Don't look at the floor, just trust me."
"Well, I do, but I need to see where my feet are going."
"You'll be fine, just look at me, you can do it."
Two steps forward. Two steps back. Repeat. Nice and simple. Certainly, he could do that, in theory.
He felt his foot hit against his other heel, and stumbled. It took him a moment to realize that he'd done so right into Claire, and was staring ahead in blank confusion before trying to instinctively push away in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry! I tripped!" He threw his hands in the air and awkwardly stepped back. "I told you, I can't do it!"
"You were doing just fine."
"I was just shuffling my feet on the floor."
"That sounds like dancing."
"Not very well."
"I wasn't aware this was a competition with anyone else."
"... Well, I mean, when you say it like that…" Jacky lowered his arms and spoke in a lower tone, dropping his gaze to the floor again. "... I just don't think I can do it. There's ducklings that have better balance than me right now."
"I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to still try it. Surely, that would be better for you than just sitting around, just as long as you don't push your limits too much?"
There was a pause, then Jacky smiled a little, and put his hands on her shoulders.
"Well, if you don't let me fall, I suppose we could give it another go." He grinned. "But this time, let's try it a little slower."
"Sounds like a good way to start."
"Are you leading?"
"If you want."
"That sounds nice."