Jacky didn't exactly sleep through the rest of the night without incident, although compared to what had happened so far, this was a relatively minor disturbance. Especially when he didn't exactly wake up during the aforementioned disturbance. But compared to what had happened earlier in the night, this was not the most upsetting thing to happen.
Claire glanced at the digital clock wearily, and saw that it had only been an hour and a half, which was about the amount of time it usually took for Jacky to reach REM sleep. His hold on her before he'd fallen asleep had long since gone limp, and his muscles twitched feverishly as he squeaked something about being pulled around several times. She brought the arm that wasn't pinned under his deadweight form upwards and gently patted his head and moved her hand to his back, hoping to calm him down enough that he didn't wake up again for another time that night. He really needed to sleep, and she was going to avoid waking him up if possible.
The scrunching in his face seemed to fade away slightly from the action, and he unconsciously nudged himself closer with a quiet grunt, as if seeking more of that comfort. He inhaled sharply and that awful little wheeze he often had when upset made itself known as he wrapped his arms around her like he was clutching a fuzzy bear.
His breathing slowed down and eased off into a more steady rhythm, and he relaxed just a little more. If they were lucky, they could probably get in a couple more hours of sleep before the sun started to rise…
She almost expected him to start screaming, sitting up in panic from a nightmare, but Jacky managed to stay asleep, save for the occasional twitch and noise of discomfort.
She hoped that he was at least getting some rest despite the disturbances. Even before the head injury, he always seemed to have such awful nightmares, although admittedly, their frequency had been far less back then. Not unlike a child plagued with night terrors, he'd cry out about things like monsters with sharp teeth, but seemingly forget what exactly had woken him up in a panic. He really didn't like waking up so confused as to why, but of course, who could blame him?
She wrapped her arms around him as well, and some of the tension in his frame eased out with a single exhale, although he was still far from completely relaxed. It was an improvement, at least.
He'd completely lost his composure tonight, just broke down finally and fell apart as if his brick wall had been made of sugar cubes, and forced to weather a rainstorm. Disarmed, vulnerable, fragile…
There was a harsh gasp as he suddenly jolted and began trying to move his arms in a panic, as if he didn't understand why they were currently restrained. Jacky moaned in dread and fought back feverishly, not even seeming to be awake completely during this sudden disturbance.
By all appearances, it seemed like his subconscious had slipped into an awful dream and was desperate to escape from it. She really couldn't imagine what sort of nasties plagued his mind at night, but had a feeling that the brain injury and emotional burnout didn't help matters much.
Claire reached her un-pinned arm for his shoulder and shook him gently, hoping to rouse him from the nightmare.
"... Jacky. Jacky, wake up…" She called out to him quietly, planning on getting gradually louder if it did not work. "Jacky, you're having a bad dream, hey, wake up…"
She wasn't sure if it took five minutes or even ten, or maybe it was actually two minutes and it just felt longer, but Jacky's fluttering eyes finally opened completely and began to focus on her. He appeared to carefully regard her like he wasn't exactly comprehending what she was doing there, like he'd forgotten that he was spending the weekend at home. He was gasping for air as if he'd been drowning this whole time, even though that was quite literally impossible in this setting.
He pawed at himself, as if he was trying to determine how tangible each part was. Almost as if he was trying to anchor himself back into reality.
"... Jacky?" Claire asked as he stared at his palms and awkwardly flexed his fingers in the most peculiar manner. "What's up?"
Jacky didn't immediately react to her, and continued to inspect himself, before pressing his hands to his head with a weary exhale.
"... Glass…"
"... What?" Claire wasn't expecting that to be his response. "Jacky, what are you talking about?"
"... Glass… it's all… there's…" He mumbled in a disconnected sort of way, gritting his teeth and shaking his head. "... It's everywhere… get it off… get it off…"
"Jacky, are you awake?" Claire said again, reaching for his hand, as he was starting to tug at the feather tufts on his head. It was rather distressing to see him in this state, and more so to have no idea how to calm him down other than just talk to him. "Where are you right now? Sweetie, where do you think you are right now?"
Jacky didn't answer the question, but just squirmed with a low sound of discomfort, trying to pull his hands away. He muttered something about hands on his arms, or at least, it sounded like that's what he said.
Claire decided that perhaps he wasn't going to be fully awake for the rest of the night, and it was best to try to comfort him and ease him into a more bearable dream state. It was better to attempt to help him rest, than to keep waking him up. She guided his hands away from his head feathers, and wrapped her arms around him again to pull him closer as he fidgeted uncomfortably.
Claire ran her fingers along the spot on his back that usually made him melt. His eyes drifted shut again, and his arms went limp as a yawn and an exhale seemed to breathe out the tension in his frame. His breathing was a steady rhythm again, and there was an unconscious action to nudge himself closer to the source of comfort. There was a feverish shudder settling in him, and Claire had to wonder if that was from his nightmares or from exhaustion.
He really needed whatever amount of sleep he could get. Honestly, she did, too.
Of course, she thought to herself with an inaudible laugh; she'd completely forgotten about looking after herself as well during the whole chaos this weekend.
Jacky seemed pale.
The bare patch on his cheek from where he'd pulled out his feathers gave a glimpse at the color in his skin beneath them, and Claire couldn't help but think that he looked a little pallid. Sickly, even. Just overall looking like he was feeling unwell, which really seemed to accentuate the exhausted air his face seemed to carry these days.
He seemed way too focused on eating his toast with two hands with almost meticulously slow controlled bites, as if pacing himself. He glanced up at her mutely before quickly dropping his gaze back at the toast.
"... Jacky, are you alright?"
Jacky paused on chewing his current bite, looking up again, almost appearing perplexed at the question. He chewed the food in his mouth a little more before swallowing, with a relatively noticeable effort in the action.
"... Just a little tired." He mumbled, shrugging. "... Like always."
"We'll take it easy today, then, you shouldn't exert yourself too much." Claire said, frowning at the awkward grip he had on his cup of juice as he used both hands to lift it. His arm shuddered weakly, but he didn't seem to acknowledge it, or was at least determined to ignore it.
"... Mmfine."
"Jacky." Claire said gently, knowing better than to take his word for such a concern. She placed a hand on his arm in a friendly gesture. "You should just try to relax today."
His eyes were tired, but showing some frustration at the notion.
"... If I wanted to just sit around and do nothing, I would have stayed at the hospital this weekend." He said curtly, setting the cup down. "It's supposed to be a 'special' weekend for us."
"I know, but you've had a rough last couple of nights. I really think you should just take it easy today, and we'll just watch the movie marathon on that channel you like." She offered as a compromise.
"... I wanted to go outside today."
"It's raining."
"... It is?"
"Jacky, it's been raining all morning, you can see it outside the window." Claire said, pointing to the window while frowning in mild concern. She could have sworn that Jacky even commented on the phenomenon not even an hour ago. Odd. "Are you sure that you're feeling alright? You seem a little… distracted."
"... I'm just tired. It's nothing new." He said, shrugging again.
His eyes drifted around the kitchen wearily, before fixing on a certain point Claire glanced at, but she couldn't see what had taken his attention. He stared for a good ten seconds before he blinked and resumed eating his toast.
She didn't like this behavior at all.
"Whatcha looking at over there, Jacky?"
He inhaled sharply and moved his gaze towards her again, appearing to be a mix of embarrassed and apprehensive. He swallowed his bite.
"... I don't know." He said earnestly.
"You just stared over there for a while." Claire said, looking at him closely again. "Your brain really seems elsewhere right now. It's not like you."
There was a good minute of pause between them before Jacky spoke up again, sounding almost embarrassed at what he was going to say.
"... I... can't read the clock."
Claire stared, not exactly sure how to respond to that odd statement. That was not a normal thing to say.
"Jacky, do you mean that you forgot how, or that you can't see it from where you're sitting?"
"The numbers don't make any sense, I know how to read a clock face, but I don't know what I'm looking at." His eyelids fluttered in frustration, and he looked increasingly distressed. There was a strange shuddering settling in his frame, as if he couldn't seem to settle his nerves. "Suh-something's wrong with the clock."
The clock clearly said that it was thirteen minutes past one in the afternoon. In fact, it was a very simple analog clock with easily readable font for the numbers. Claire looked at him with that mild concern beginning to grow into something more alarmed.
"... I'm going to go get the information packet, Jacky. You're not acting right." She said calmly, trying to not upset him with her tone of voice. She stood from her chair, intending on getting to the drawer at her computer desk that was currently housing the packet that had possible symptoms and complications of Jacky's brain injury circled and highlighted. "How do you feel right now? Are you dizzy? Do you want to lay down?"
"My brain's too slippery, can't hold on to it. It's slippery, very slippy." He said, watching her stand. His hand pantomimed in an attempt to make his point. "It's not… grabby, it's just so slippy."
"Jacky?" Claire said, now rather alarmed with his response. "Jacky, you're not making sense."
He blinked, as if that reaction had stunned him momentarily. He frowned and shook his head roughly, rubbing a hand on the right side of his face, eyes wide.
"Slippy, brain's very slippy… suh-slip..." Jacky started mumbling in frustration, appearing to be just as distressed by this sudden onset of confusion as she was, as his words dissolved into stammering as his grip on vocabulary was deteriorating by the second. He set his toast down, and rubbed at his eyes wearily with his hands in somewhat awkward positions, and groaned. "... I… wha… he-help…"
"Jacky, I'm calling the hospital, something just isn't right."
If Jacky could properly form a sentence at the moment, he'd probably have to agree with her. Some sort of fog has settled in his brain, and he didn't like how it felt.
His hands braced against the table, and he attempted to stand, only to stagger sideways in a daze, distantly aware that his name was being shouted out to him, sounding like a bad connection. There was a sensation of weightless freefall, and his rapidly declining vision sharply went to black before he even hit the floor.
... This seems familiar…
When he came to, he was laying on his side, with something tucked under his head to cushion it (perhaps a folded dish towel, or was this a pillow?). The first thing he managed to focus his hearing on was the consistent low noise of the refrigerator working, which had an almost comforting hypnotic hum to it. He breathed in deeply and forced his heavy eyelids open to take in what was happening.
A blurred mass was pacing back and forth almost rhythmically in front of his blurry sight. He was almost entranced with watching the unclear form move in and out of his field of vision, that he didn't realize or recognize that a familiar voice belonged to it as the pacing remained consistently frantic while disconnected words hovered around his ears.
The ceiling fan made a sort of rhythmic whooshing above him with each rotation.
"... rolled him over like you said… still breathing… I don't know what caused it… out of nowhere… just couldn't talk clearly…"
Jacky's beak hurt in a way that felt like he'd face planted on it rather abruptly, and the inside of his mouth tasted bitter. Moisture was pooling from it, as if perhaps he had been drooling.
He groaned quietly.
I feel awful. He thought to himself as an uncomfortable feeling started making itself known in the pit of his stomach.
He must have made a loud enough noise, as the pacing entity in his unfocused gaze paused, the tapping of footsteps changing cadence, then stepped closer before crouching down to be level with him. He blinked and attempted to sit up, but a hand was set on his shoulder and pushed him back to keep him laying down.
"Jacky, you need to stay down for now. Do you know where you are? Do you understand what's going on?"
His head was dizzy.
"... Mmtired…"
"I know, Jacky, but do you know why you're on the floor?"
"... Fell?"
"Yes, but do you remember anything right before that happened, if you were feeling sick or anything like that?"
His body felt achy.
"... Huh?"
"Jacky, I think you just had a fit. You didn't really shake or anything like that, but you did fall out of your chair. How's your head? You didn't hit it, did you?"
Those words didn't exactly mean anything to Jacky at the moment, but he was starting to comprehend and recognize the voice and face that was starting to clear up in his sight.
... That's Claire, why does she look upset..? He asked himself, still feeling detached to the situation.
He blinked.
"I called the hospital, and they said that I should keep an eye on you for now, and bring you in right away if you don't feel any better in the next hour, or if you get worse. It's Sunday, so unless it's a clear emergency, they suggest only bringing you in if you're not recovering from fainting. Otherwise, they'll check you out tomorrow when we get back there." Claire said in a somewhat restless tone, reaching carefully for his cheek to pull the feathers back to get a good look at his skin. She sighed a sigh of what sounded like relief. "... Well, you're not as pale as you were five minutes ago, that's probably a good sign."
Jacky could feel his mind starting to kick back into gear, but he really didn't understand exactly what was happening at the moment.
"... Why'd ya call the hospital..?"
"Jacky, do you know why you're on the floor right now?" Claire said while helping him sit upright, taking note of how dazed he was, but was definitely trying to focus on what was happening, in particular he was staring at the chair that had been toppled beside him.
"... Well, that's odd…" He mumbled, rubbing the heel of the palm of his hand against his forehead, blinking slowly. He wiped the drool from his mouth on the back of his hand. "... I was sitting in that chair."
"Yes, but how do you feel now?"
"... Tired."
"Think you can make it to the couch? I'll help you, come on…" Claire said, reaching her arms around him securely to help him sit in a more stable manner. "Can you stand?"
"... I'll try." Jacky said quietly, and tried to get to his feet shakily.
Claire didn't immediately pull him from the floor.
"Jacky, I don't want you to try standing unless you feel like you can; you just collapsed." She said. "Are you sure you can walk to the couch or do you want me to help?"
"... I'm tired." Jacky groaned before trying to clear his head with a shake. "... Give me a moment, I think I can do it."
"Are you dizzy? Do you know what's going on right now?" Claire asked, trying to figure out how aware he was.
"You're persistent, we're at home, of course. Let me stand."
That was an answer. A pretty general answer, but an answer.
Claire helped him to his feet, but he stood with a sense of uneasiness.
There was a peculiar puddle on the tile and it took him longer than he'd like to admit for him to realize that he'd likely knocked the cup of juice off the table, as the cup was also near the puddle, or rather, what remained of said cup.
"You're doing good, Jacky, we're just going to go to the couch."
"... I know how to walk by myself."
"Yes, but you just collapsed, so we're going to take it easy for now."
"Claire, I can walk by myself." He snapped irritably.
She knew he was going to be instinctively stubborn about the whole thing, so she decided to try a different, somewhat desperate, approach instead of trying to just coax him into cooperating with her, although she really didn't like having to resort to that.
"Okay, then. You bring yourself to the couch." She said, and let him go (letting her hands hover just far enough away to catch him if this didn't work out), leaving him standing in place, but appearing hesitant to do so.
Jacky stood there in absolute confusion as he stared at her, as though he honestly didn't think she'd do that at all. It was also very obvious that he was becoming very much aware that his limbs felt very like his muscles and bones had been replaced with different consistencies of gelatin, as he was finding it increasingly difficult to stand without a lot of effort on his part.
"... Claire, I don't think I can do that right now…" He said in a small voice.
"Well, of course not, you fainted not even seven minutes ago, that's what I'm trying to tell you." Claire said, reaching for him so she could brace him more steadily. "I don't know why you fainted, but if I had to guess, it's probably because you're exhausted."
"... But, you're not a doctor."
"Which is why I said it was a guess." She said. "Either way, fainting doesn't just happen for no reason. You still didn't answer me about if you hit your head or not."
"... I don't think I did." Jacky said quietly, not even sure if he would know at all, considering he'd been momentarily unconscious during the ordeal in the first place. He shifted his gaze awkwardly sidewise. "... It feels about the same as always."
He flinched suddenly and threw his attention towards the juice puddle on the floor, which was mingled with the broken glass of the cup. The juice was a sort of cranberry mixture, and so it was red, and the sight of red liquid and glass shards on the floor sent a sickening sensation of dread and deja vu throughout his body. The memory of the surveillance tape of his accident he'd seen pushed itself to the surface of his thoughts, and his brain was almost too eager to conjure up the visual of his motionless form on the floor amongst the mess. No jester costume, but simply what he wore lately these days. The juice was pooled around the figment's head.
Jacky simply stared blankly, mouth agape, stricken momentarily mute…
"Are you alright? You didn't step on any glass bits, did you?"
Claire's concerned voice jarred his mind back to reality and the apparition before his eyes vanished in a blink. He shook his head roughly in a clear gesture of trying to clear it, and looked back at Claire.
"... What?"
"There's broken glass on the floor, you really shouldn't be standing here if you're barefoot. You didn't step on any, did you?"
Jacky lifted a foot to glance at it, then the other, and shook his head slowly.
"... I don't think so." He said, although quite honestly, he wasn't exactly paying much attention to such a possibility, as his mind was still reeling from the minor hallucination he'd just had. "... That's… um… some mess, huh?"
"It's really not a big deal; I was more concerned about you than a busted cup, I can always get more cups." Claire said, giving him a nudge to get him to move towards the couch with her. "Let's get you out of here so I can get this cleaned up."
He couldn't seem to keep up with what was happening, because before he knew it, he was already sitting on the couch. This whole day seemed to be moving as an incomprehensible blur, and he was having trouble just trying to stay focused. It was really frustrating that he couldn't keep his mind clear at the moment, and he was almost afraid to look at the clock again, for fear that he would be unable to read it this time as well.
Jacky still felt shaky. Disconnected. Like he still wasn't fully firing on all cylinders.
His hand slapped onto the coffee table in front of him and patted around for the TV remote, which he couldn't seem to grab properly at first, as it seemed like his depth perception was still recalibrating. He finally gave up with that method and just swiped it off the table and onto his other hand. He would have felt like he had outsmarted the obstacle he'd be struggling with, if not for the fact that he almost immediately began fumbling with the device and needed to hold it in both hands to keep it from slipping from his grip and clattering to the floor.
What on earth happened to him when he passed out..? Did he in fact actually hit his head like Claire had been concerned about? Was he concussed? Was that why he was so scatterbrained and shaky right now?
He felt a sense of relief when he glanced down at the labeled buttons and could read most of them, specifically the ones pertaining to channel changing and volume control. That was a good sign then; whatever had been wrong his brain ten minutes ago must be dissipating now, albeit at a snail's pace.
Now, if only he could remember what numbers belonged to which stations…
He looked over the back of the couch to see how the clean up in the kitchen was coming along.
Wow, you don't look so well, Mel. A voice chimed in his ears as he felt himself flinch involuntarily with dread.
"... Oh, no, not you, not right now…" He groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his face into the back cushion of the couch, trying to block it out. "... I'm not in the mood…"
Well, I'd think so after your brain almost went to mush on you just now. You're never in the mood these days. The internal voice almost sounded disappointed.
"Is everything good in there?" Jacky said loudly, directing his voice to the kitchen area, determined to not acknowledge the figment. "Are you going to be in here soon?"
"Still have to mop up, Jacky, otherwise we'll have a sticky spot from the juice sugar. We don't want ants or our feet sticking to the floor." Claire's voice drifted from the other side of the threshold. "I'll be there in five, maybe ten minutes."
Jacky groaned inwardly, and slid down into a more comfortable sitting position, eying the figment just outside his peripheral vision wearily.
"... How do I make you go away..?" He said quietly, hoping to not be overheard by Claire. "... I don't want you here."
You say that like I really have a choice in the matter.
Those words made Jacky involuntarily shift his gaze to stare more properly at the apparition before him, and it was then he realized that the figment was looking worse for wear. In fact, the jester costume was tattered in appearance, with the cap askew. A trail of red seemed to have leaked from the right side of the cap and down his neck, where it pooled onto the frilly collar and dried into a sticky brown coagulated mess on the feathers.
Disturbingly, there were noticeable reddish stains almost identical to the ones Jacky recalled being on his own damaged costume, where visible abrasions were. This realization made his stomach lurch uncomfortably.
He swallowed back an overwhelming internal urge to lose his lunch.
"... Claire?" Jacky said in a tone that was slightly above speaking level, eyes still trained on the figment. "Are you almost done?"
"Just have to wring out the rag, I'll be in there in about a minute or two."
Jacky groaned and buried his face in his hands as he felt like the apparition had somehow moved closer to stare at him.
"... Can you hurry up, please? I really don't want to be alone right now…" He whined, bringing his feet off the floor so he could fold his legs and curl up on the couch.
He heard the sink faucet shut off and then approaching footsteps. He did not attempt to peer through his fingers, and flinched terribly when he felt a hand touch the side of his face.
"Jacky, are you sure that you're alright?" He heard Claire say. He dragged his fingers down his face to look up at her. "Because, honestly, you've been pale all morning and then there's the fainting thing, and you just seem… off."
"... I really don't know." Jacky said truthfully, determined to keep his gaze on her and not drift it onto the battered figment just out of his peripheral vision. Curse his overactive imagination. "... Are you done in there yet?" He added desperately.
Claire's hand moved to his forehead and held it there, frowning slowly.
"... You feel like you've got a fever." She said. "Jacky, why didn't you say that you felt sick?"
"... I said I was tired."
"That's a broad statement, that could mean anything!" Claire raised her voice just above a normal tone, not enough to actually be shouting. There was a sigh. "I don't know how long you were standing outside last night. I was afraid that you were going to get sick from being in that cold, wet air."
"... It's not that bad." Jacky said quietly.
"Maybe not from your side of things, but…" Claire started, before taking another audible breath. There was a deliberate attempt to keep herself from yelling. "... Jacky, do you understand what this looks like from my perspective? I get one weekend with you, and then you get sick because I didn't think to double check the bedroom door."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's… it's not your fault, I'm just saying that it's just frustrating that things keep going the way they're going."
"... It technically is my fault, none of this would have happened if-"
"Jacky, we're not going there right now, I said it's not your fault."
"Are you done with cleaning up in there yet?"
There was an odd tone to Jacky's voice when he said that, almost as if he was a bit desperate for the answer to be "Yes". For what reason exactly why that was, Claire was obviously unsure.
"... I got the glass up, and I can just finish mopping up later, it shouldn't be too sticky when I do." She said, sensing that Jacky had a reason for his persistent questioning of the action. "If it's okay, I'm going to grab a few things before I sit down."
"... Don't take too long, please…" Jacky added in an almost pleading whine as she stepped out of sight.
Claire paused at the hallway threshold and glanced back at him. Jacky had his hands covering his eyes as he curled inward on his side. Was the light too bright for him right now? Was his sight getting blurry and he was trying to rest his eyes? Was he seeing something he didn't like? What was making him so upset; was that fainting spell the cause or was that bout of syncope just one of the side effects..?
Disappearing into the bedroom, Claire retrieved the particularly fluffy blanket from the closet, located Mr. Banana Brain, found the thermometer in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and picked up the dark blue hooded sweatshirt that had been absentmindedly tossed over the bed frame.
She paused at the doorway with an arm load of stuff, trying to think of what else she could grab as a comfort item for him. But then realized that she'd left him alone longer than she'd intended to, so she went back to the living room. Jacky was still laying on the couch, but was now appearing to be trying to bury his face into the cushions with a discontented groan.
"Jacky, is the light hurting your eyes? I could turn off the lamp."
"... No."
"No, you don't want me to turn off the light, or no, it's not hurting your eyes?"
"... It's fine, I just…" There was a trail off in Jacky's words, as if he didn't really prepare for an answer. He inhaled quite audibly and tilted his head upward to stare at her. "... What am I saying, it's not fine, I'm not fine, none of this is fine." He whined pitifully.
"I know, Jacky."
"... Is that the good blanket?"
"Yeah."
"... I like the good blanket."
"You can wrap up in it while I check your temperature." Claire said while holding out the blanket as he sat up and reached for it with a weary smile. "I also brought Mr. Banana Brain for you." She added, holding out the doll as well.
Jacky took the doll, and couldn't help but notice in a distant sort of way that the troubling figment had left his sight. Odd, he thought to himself, but probably because he had something else to focus on.
"... That's nice." He mumbled, still smiling. "... Sorry for ruining the weekend, though…"
"The weekend isn't ruined, Jacky. It's just been a little rough, that's all." She tried to reassure him while slipping the thermometer into his mouth. "We still have time until you have to go back to the hospital."
"That's not-"
"Jacky, the thermometer won't read right if you talk while it's in your mouth. You need to not talk for a few minutes."
Jacky audibly huffed, but obliged. His eyes wandered about the room, and fell on the shelf of books.
The scrapbooks were still free of dust.
A few minutes passed, and the thermometer was pulled from his mouth and read aloud.
"... Well, it's low grade, all right…" Claire said, eyeing Jacky. "This is manageable. We can handle this."
"I'm not helpless, I can-"
"Jacky, relax. It's fine; you don't have to push yourself." Claire said over him. "If anything, it's probably better to have a sick day at home than at the hospital."
"Oh, and how is that exactly?"
"Well, for one, the couch is here, and also, it's home."
"And the day is ruined."
"It's not ruined."
"Yes it is, because we can't do anything fun because I'm sick and it's raining and it's a Sunday."
"... I love how the emphasis implies that the worst thing in all this is what day of the week it is."
"Claaaaaaaire."
She would have laughed a little at his whine if she hadn't noticed that he seemed visibly distressed, almost to the point of tears and he made a visible effort to suppress that as well as a shudder.
"... Jacky, what's really up with you?" She asked, finally taking a seat on the couch beside him. "You didn't do anything wrong, why are you so upset?"
Jacky didn't answer. He just leaned into her with his head down, mumbling something inaudible under his breath. There was a wheeze.
"Jacky, hey, what's got you so worked up?" Claire said gently, realizing that he was trying to keep himself from losing his grip on stability.
His arms wrapped around her and squeezed. The wheezing was getting rapid, his body starting to shake more noticeably as she tried to give a comforting gesture, squeezing back.
He gasped harshly. He was losing control.
"... I think the fever has been messing with my brain." He managed in a strained voice. He wheezed again and lifted his head just enough to stare at her with fatigued and tearful eyes. "... It's been a bit… off, I want to say. Like it's making my senses not work right and…" He trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say exactly.
"That's a possibility. Tired brain, having trouble with things, probably not working too well when it's warmer than it should be. You're sleep deprived and ill; it makes sense. You're seeing things." She said, running her hand along his back. "I'm not sure how exactly that works with you, but I'm sure that being tired and sick and stressed isn't helping."
"... Why are you so okay with that?"
"Jacky, did you think that I didn't notice? I've known you for how long now?"
"... You're asking me to remember a series of time when that's my whole problem here to begin with."
"Good point. But, anyway, yes, I noticed that you've been looking off into space more often than usual today."
"... More often than-? Is it really that obvious!" Jacky sputtered incredulously. "I haven't even said-"
"Jacky, you're stressed and you have a fever, it really doesn't take much extra thought to figure that you're having a bad day."
Jacky snorted.
"... Bad day? Bad weekend." He said, trying to suppress a chuckle, but doing so with difficulty. He giggled and added while bursting into a fit of laughter: "Bad month. Buh-bad year!"
It was obvious that he didn't really mean to laugh, but the snort had caused a crack in a dam and unleashed a deluge of bottled up emotion, and it seemed that all he could really do at that moment was just laugh, and laugh, and laugh…
Claire looked at him and noticed that right away, although he was laughing, he was not smiling. The laugh itself, while wheezy, was far from sounding amused, instead sounding as though he was trying hard to console himself. This was a tic, a hardwired reaction to stress.
"... I can't s-stop laughing…" He managed to gasp between another pained chuckle, eyes watery again. The glance he gave her seemed almost pleading, as if silently asking her to be understanding of the situation. "... It's ju-just happening, it's not on purpose…"
"Jacky, you don't have to apologize, I get it." Claire said, loosening her grip on him a little as his body jerked and twitched from the involuntary laughter, trying to not restrain him. "It's not your fault. Are you alright with being held right now, or do you want me to let go for now?"
It seemed like that question redirected his thoughts and he glanced to the side as he thought about it, lips twitching as the laughing fit began to peeter out after a couple of minutes. He snorted, and took a couple of controlled breaths, counting to himself in a low voice as the tension in his frame eased ever so slightly.
"... Hug." He said finally in a weary voice. He shifted his position to where he was leaning with his back against her, settling into the wrapped blanket cocoon around him. "... Mmtired."
"How's your head feeling? When you fell, I don't know how hard it hit the floor if it did, or where." Claire said, running her fingers through his face feathers, presumably to check if he was pale or not again.
"Head's hot and heavy, like I'm sick, but that's probably a given, considering everything." Jacky mumbled, shrugging. "... I'm pretty sure that not getting enough sleep last night probably doesn't help much…" He added with a weak laugh, as his giggle fit still seemed to linger. "... That tickles."
"... Do you want me to stop? It's not bothering you, is it?"
"It's fine, I don't mind, really. It feels nice." Jacky said, yawning. "... I'm sleepy."
"Take a nap, then." Claire urged gently, continuing to stroke his feathers. "Just let yourself rest, it's okay t0 take a break."
"... But, it's daytime."
"And you've got a fever. You need to rest."
"... But, it's our last day…" Jacky moaned miserably, as if the thought was truly upsetting him. "... Last day, I can't sleep early on the last day, we've done nothing, the whole weekend's a bust…"
"It's supposed to be a nice visit home for the weekend; we didn't really have to do anything spectacular." Claire tried to assure him, continuing to run her fingers through his head feathers, albeit more idly now, in an attempt to keep him calm.
He tilted his head to look up at her awkwardly and Claire realized that his half open eyes were beginning to look a little glassy, as though he was already in fact drifting off despite his best efforts not to. Now that he was beginning to settle down, his exhaustion was starting to catch up to him.
"... I don't really wanna go sleep, cause the nighmers…" He droned, words slurring into a barely comprehensible drivel as he struggled to stifle another yawn. He said in a mumble: "... Loud nighmers, don't lemme sleef…"
"Jacky, I wish I could do something about it for you, but you just can't put off sleeping."
"... Mmtired…"
"I know, Jacky." Claire said, resting her hand on his head for a moment as his eyes drifted shut despite having fought so hard against it. He managed to force his eyes open once more before he finally nodded off as Claire added: "Me, too."
It would be about two hours later until Jacky stirred again, this time in a notably less distressed way. He wiggled to get his arm free from the blanket around him, and rubbed at his eyes groggily.
"... What time is it..?" He muttered, looking around the room with the same sort of squinted expression one would have if someone had lit the room with floodlights.
"About half after four, you've only been asleep for a couple of hours." Claire said, setting her cellphone aside. "How are you feeling now?"
"... Like my brain is on fire, but I guess you want to hear what's new…" He said dryly, pressing his hand to the side of his head. "... Well, I don't think I feel any worse, if that's anything to say. When did I fall asleep?"
"Sometime around two hours ago; you've been pretty quiet, I hope that you actually got some rest."
"... I'm still tired, but I think it helped a little." He said, trying to unravel the blanket wrapped around him with the clear intent to try to sit up.
"Don't try to get up unless you really have to; you're still sick." Claire said, quickly wrapping her arm around his chest to keep him where he was.
"It's just a fever."
"A low fever, yes, but you also fainted earlier, we don't need you to deteriorate because you're being stubborn."
"I'm not even contagious."
"You're going to be taking it easy."
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"... You can get up for that, but after that, you're coming back to the couch."
"I guess I don't really have much of a choice against that, do I?" Jacky said with a sheepish chuckle, shrugging. "I guess, now, I can think a little clearer than earlier, at least."
"A couple of hours of uninterrupted napping probably helped, I'm sure." Claire said, watching him get up from the couch with a little difficulty. It was clear that the fever had sapped his energy level, but he was still determined to do something on his own. "... I guess it's a good thing that it's not a long walk there."
"Claire, I can do this, I'm forty and a big boy." Jacky said flatly before he snorted, which he reacted to by throwing his hands to his beak in a reflexive attempt to muffle the sound. He glanced at her apologetically with a reddish face, chortling under his breath. "... S-sorry, I think I still got the giggles."
Before Claire could respond to that, he'd already ducked out of sight into the bathroom and shut the door.
She picked up her phone and tried to not focus on trailing his every move so he could have a little space for the moment. Of course, it was a bit difficult considering the fact that not even three hours ago, she'd seen him have some sort of fit and collapse while eating toast.
… Eating toast. Oh, darn, she'd forgotten about cleaning up the rest of the juice mess on the floor.
"Jacky, I'm going to be in the kitchen for a quick bit, I still need to finish cleaning up the floor." She said loud enough for her voice to carry down the hall. "So, if I'm not at the couch when you get back, that's where I am."
"Thank you, but I think I'd probably figure that out while walking back on account of the kitchen being directly across from the couch, but thanks for the consideration." His voice sounded off from behind the door with a hint of amusement.
Of course.
After some time, Jacky was washing his hands at the sink. He looked up at the mirror and cringed for a moment at the darkened rings around his eyes from poor sleep quality.
"... Sheesh, I look like an albatross…" He mumbled to himself, tugging down on a lower lid while inspecting as he leaned forward towards the mirror to look at the dark rimming. "... No wonder she's fretting so much."
Jacky paused, and tilted his head, noticing perhaps for the first time that weekend that there was a defeathered patch on his cheek. When did that happen? Had he managed to tear out more feathers in a fit of frustration again, or was he actually molting this time?
Oh, dang, there's absolutely no way he could hide that at all, and Claire already likely knew…
At least he could see that he wasn't as scrawny as he had been when this whole ordeal began, although he was sure that he wasn't completely back at the weight he'd been before.
Jacky couldn't help but feel a little sense of pride in at least achieving some progress in getting better.
Deciding that he'd been in the bathroom long enough, and that he didn't want to really run the risk of his tired and overheated mind trying to fill the dead air with whatever it could conjure up for him, Jacky made his way back to the living room, and grabbed the blanket again. He still felt rather warmish, likely because of the fever, but he knew that it was a good idea to keep the blanket around him, especially because it was autumn now.
He paused. Mr. Banana Brain wasn't on the couch.
Blink.
That's ridiculous, where would the doll have possibly gone? It's not like he could have-
Despite trying to approach this reasonably, Jacky felt a rising sense of panic build up yet again. His vision was becoming narrow, as if he was squeezed into a small passage. Even though he was still standing, he felt like something heavy was sitting on his chest.
No, no, not again, he was right here… Jacky's eyes darted across the floor and beside the couch, wondering if maybe the doll had been knocked off.
Through his rapidly approaching tunnel vision, he managed to make out the distinctive small white gloved hand of the toy reaching out from being wedged between two cushions. His own hands shot out for the doll almost instinctively, and he pulled Mr. Banana Brain loose from the couch trap.
... Must have pushed him there by accident while napping. Jacky breathed a sigh of relief, and clutched the doll close to his chest as he dropped heavily on the couch. One less thing to worry about now…
The sound of approaching footsteps on carpet caught his attention and he lifted his head to look up.
"Hey, how are you feeling now, Jacky?"
"... Not worse."
"It's only really been a couple of hours, I don't really expect your fever to be gone yet." Claire said, sitting down with him, on the couch. "You're still looking a bit shaky, though."
"... My heart is kind of beating a lot; Mr. Banana Brain fell between the couch cushions. And I couldn't find him for a moment." Jacky mumbled, burying his face in the doll.
He felt her hand on his head.
"For a guy that just sits around all the time, Mr. Banana Brain sure likes to disappear on you."
There was a pause before Jacky snorted in amusement.
"... I can't really leave him alone for five minutes without him getting into some kind of trouble." He laughed weakly.
"So, how are you feeling now? I don't think you really got much to eat today, you want anything?"
"... I really want something sweet and salty, but I don't know if that's allowed."
"There's a bag of pretzels, you could start with some of those and see how you feel after that."
"That's kind of like crackers, I think I can handle that right now."
"Are you starting to feel sick?"
"Not really, I just don't want to have anything that takes too much effort to eat at the moment."
"I think I can set you up with something like that, maybe some juice and yogurt would be a good idea, too. That all can handle the salty and sweet things while still being something that won't trigger a headache."
"... I definitely don't need another headache." Jacky agreed as she left for the kitchen. "I like that idea, though. I think I can handle that."
At this point, Jacky finally noticed that the TV was on, volume low enough to not have disrupted the atmosphere. He couldn't remember if he'd actually really managed to do that as he'd intended earlier, or maybe Claire had done that during his nap. Either way, it was on the cheesy sci-fi movies channel, and he couldn't help but smile at that. She knew that was his preferred channel for background noise.
A satisfied stomach later, Jacky was comfortably settled on the couch again. The buzzy haze that had been hovering around in his brain was diminished considerably, and he felt more alert despite also still just wanting to rest his tired mind.
"... What's running on the TV right now?"
"Some nature's revenge themed marathon."
"... There's enough of that to make a genre now?" Jacky said, trying to stifle a yawn.
"If you don't want to watch that, I could-"
"No, it's fine, I'm just a little surprised."
"How's your head feeling now? Think you feel any better than when you collapsed earlier?"
"... Tired, but lucid, so I think I'm fine right now."
"Are you sure, because if you need anything else, I don't mind."
"Claire. Claire. I'm fine."
"Forgive me if I don't exactly accept 'fine' as a final answer." Claire said dryly, perhaps more than she'd intended to. "The amount of times you've said 'fine' in the last minute is incredibly noticeable. What's up?"
"... I just wanted this weekend to be good, but I keep messing it up, I can't even eat toast without having a problem."
"I don't think it's specifically the toast's fault, or anyone else's for that matter. You've got a fever right now, and I know you're frustrated."
"I'm beyond frustrated." Jacky mumbled, gripping the blanket edge in his shaking hands tightly.
"That's good, then, I'd be more concerned if you weren't." Claire said, reaching for his hands to try to comfort him. "... I wouldn't say that the weekend has been a total bust. We made a couple of breakthroughs, I think. And you got away from those tapes for a bit."
"... I did get a whole weekend free of Darkwing dogging me, so that's… nice." He tilted his head back to look at her with sleepy eyes. "... What time is it now?"
"After five."
"... The day's almost over, I have to go back to the hospital tomorrow, this is the last day…"
"Jacky, the day's still got some good hours in it, we can squeeze in some movies, there's still time for something nice." A faint noise jarred Claire awake, something that seemed to be the norm this weekend. Automatically, she threw her hand behind her to feel the empty space, not quite warm, not quite cold.
"... Jacky, I swear, if this keeps up, I'm handcuffing you to the bed next time you stay over…" She said to no one in particular in a moment of unrestrained freshly woken thought, knowing full well no one would hear that quip.
The noise persisted, drifting in from the living room.
Claire sat up.
It was arrhythmic, low, punctuated with the unmistakable sound of gasping.
Crying. Jacky was crying.
She got off the bed and stepped into the hallway, making note of the lack of light, meaning that Jacky was in the dark.
Did he wander into the living room during a bout of somnambulism, and get confused in his disoriented state? Did he see a glimpse of red light from the covered microwave clock and was currently having a panic attack while still being half-asleep? Either one was likely, given the last couple of nights.
Claire made her way to the living room, dimly lit by the glow of a street lamp through a curtain, and found Jacky sitting on the floor. He was tucked into the corner where the bookcase met the wall, gripping one of the scrapbooks tightly.
One of the remaining scrapbooks was laid out in front of him, and Claire realized that it was the one she'd tucked away newspaper articles and printed images in while she'd originally been trying to find a way to track him during that point in time that he could not remember. She'd put them there originally as a way to keep them together and to keep the items from falling prey to whatever usually happened to loose papers.
Upon stepping closer, Claire could see that the articles and papers had been pulled out of the book, and it was clear that Jacky had seen them. She was so used to having to deal with Jacky in a disoriented state late in the night, that she was honestly surprised that he looked up at her with a somewhat lucid stare (abiet wet and reddened) almost immediately upon noticing she was there.
"... I'm awake this time." He said in a tired voice. "... I wasn't sleepwalking, I actually decided to come in here."
"... You weren't in bed, so I was looking for you." She said truthfully, trying to not upset him further as he sniffled loudly, but also trying to gauge his temperament.
"... Why do you have these..?"
His voice was quiet and a bit strained, as if he was struggling to not dissolve into tears again.
"It was the only way I could keep track of you when you were… well, when you were missing." She said, stepping towards him so she could take a seat next to him on the floor. "I looked for any sort of articles that had any mention of where you'd been sighted or if there was something that was suspected to be you."
"... I don't remember doing any of this. I still don't remember." Jacky mumbled, hugging the scrapbook in his arms flat against his chest."... I don't want to remember."
"I can't really help if you do or don't…" Claire said, reaching for one of the articles to see which one it was exactly. "But, whatever happens, I'll be here."
"We could move. Just run away to some place like Mouseton. Change our names; no one would know who I am without my old costume anyway." Jacky said suddenly.
"... Why Mouseton?"
"Because Spoonerville is the first place they'd look." Jacky sounded as if he was incredulous that she hadn't considered that.
"You want us to run away to Mouseton."
"I didn't say it was foolproof, it was just an idea. Maybe Duckburg, it's so close that no one would think about it right away."
Claire made a noise that was something like a repressed snicker.
Jacky wasn't amused.
"... It's not funny."
"Jacky, I don't think that would get very far anyway."
"You have no idea how well a trenchcoat works around here, trust me."
"You're probably on a watchlist; we had to get through a lot of hoops to get this weekend visit even approved." Claire said, shaking her head. "If we didn't bring you back to the hospital tomorrow, there's going to be a lot of people who are going to be looking for you, and I'm sure not all of them would be doing that out of concern."
"... Maybe I don't want to go back."
"Jacky, believe me, if I could have made this whole ordeal any easier, I would have."
"I know. I just don't like this." Jacky mumbled, reaching for the article clipping in Claire's hands. "... Couldn't they have gotten a better image than that? It's not very flattering."
He leaned into her.
There was a pause.
"... I still don't remember any of that." He said with the air of insistence. "It's me in those article pictures, but I have no memory of doing all that."
"I know, Jacky."
"... What am I going to do if I ever do?"
"... I don't know, Jacky."
"I don't want to. They can't make me."
"It's late, let's just go back to bed now." Claire said, sensing that maybe he was starting to wind down. Surely he had to be tired…
"... Why is there still no dust on the scrapbooks, Claire?"
This question honestly caught her by surprise. Something about his tone was almost accusatory.
"... There's no dust on a lot of things, I don't know why you're singling out these in particular."
"It's because you still haven't left them alone, isn't it?"
"Is it really that big of a deal?"
"You're obsessed with looking at them because it's the last thing we did before all this happened."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
"... Put them away, we're going back to bed."
"They're my books, I can do whatever I want with them, Claire." Jacky said with a strangely calm edge to his voice.
"Fine, whatever, I just-" There was an involuntary inhale before Claire said in a clearly forced tone as she stood from the floor: "Alright, I'll put them away. I can put them in a box, seal it with tape and put them in the closet for now. They can get dusty there."
"... How would they get dusty if they're sealed in a box?"
"Do you want them to be dusty or them to be put away, then?"
"I want you to find a better way to spend your free time than looking at those books all the time."
"Is now really the time to be discussing this, I'm serious, it's getting late into the night. You should be-We should be resting." Claire said before pausing to consider something she felt like she might have overlooked. "... What were you doing in here if you weren't sleepwalking again? It's a bit late in the night to be looking at books in the dark."
"... Bathroom."
"But, there's a bathroom attached to the bedroom. This is the living room."
"... I got lost."
"... Alright, then." Claire said, deciding that perhaps now wasn't the time to pressure him into giving a clear answer when he was likely somewhat sleep deprived and being a little antagonistic.
At that moment, Claire noticed that her computer's power light was still on, but the screen was shut off. There was a quiet whirring sound emitting from it. Odd, she could have sworn that it wasn't even switched on this weekend…
She looked at Jacky, who seemed to notice that she was staring at the machine, and the expression that crossed his face was clearly anxiety.
"... Jacky, did you turn on the computer?"
"I don't remember the password." Jacky said quietly as Claire turned on the screen and saw that the computer was idling at the login, giving the indication of multiple failed attempts to sign in. "... I'm sure it wasn't a hard one, but I just can't seem to think straight."
"Why were you trying to get on the computer at this hour anyway?" Claire said, realizing that Jacky was wringing his hands nervously, as if he was worried about having been caught in the act. "Jacky, I'm not mad, but you really have no reason to be on the computer at this hour."
"... I just wanted to see what you had on it."
"What I had-? What do you mean?"
"... Games."
"..."
"... I wanted to know how much of those… how many games are you playing on it."
There was a pause between the both of them.
"Jacky, you know a computer is used for more than just games, you used one at work." Claire said gently. She considered the possibility that Jacky was maybe having a sort of panic attack and wasn't going to calm down until she could prove his theory either direction. "... Alright, how about I log on for you right now so you can look yourself, and then we go back to bed? I'm not hiding anything on there from you."
Jacky was quiet before he nodded his head with enough vigorous enthusiasm that Claire could have sworn she could hear rattling coming from there. She helped him to his feet, led him to the computer and signed on.
"... Sorry, this takes a while to load the desktop, it's not exactly a new computer." She apologized with a bit of a laugh.
Jacky blinked, setting the scrapbook next to the monitor.
"... How many do you have on there?"
"Not sure, since some comes pre-installed, but those are really just virtual card games that play almost identical to the real thing, just with score keeping and a more streamlined response."
"If it's just like the real thing, then why don't you just play the real thing?"
"It's less messy of a set up, and you can't really play a game of cards in the dark too well."
"Yeah, you can. You could if you tried, I'm sure."
"Well, maybe I don't remember where to find a pack of cards when I want to play a single player game of solitaire. Then what?"
"..." Jacky looked at the screen. "... It's done loading."
"Okay. See? Click around, I've got nothing to hide." Claire said, stepping aside to let him sit in the chair. "... You know, you'd probably be good at puzzle games if you gave them a chance. Or the ones where you can build stuff. It's not all mindless quests and violence. It probably would even help with your memory issues, and maybe even your hands with working the smaller muscles."
"... My hands are fine." Jacky said stiffly.
Claire knew he was unintentionally lying, perhaps as a denial reflex. She'd seen how his hands gripped things differently now, and seen how less refined his motions were when doing something as simple as holding a fork. It was clear that his brain injury had affected his fine motor skills, and was certainly something that had been discussed with the physicians, but Jacky was adamant that his ability to craft was largely unaffected, almost to an obsessive, feverish point. He might even argue that Lumpy, the clay snail, was proof that he could still craft.
"Yeah, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a little extra help with the recovery."
"My hands are fine." Jacky said more loudly, slapping a fist against the desk's surface in a momentary lash of frustration. "There's nothing wrong with my hands!"
"Jacky, I didn't say there was anything wrong, I was just suggesting that it wouldn't hurt to maybe try something to help them get a little stronger." Claire said, trying to be careful with her tone of voice so to not agitate him further. "It's not a critique; I'm just concerned. Physical therapy is just as important, you can only do so much with cards and clay."
Jacky was painfully quiet, eyes fixed on the screen in front of him. There was an obvious awkwardness in the way he moved the cursor, something he was determined to underplay.
"... My hands are fine." He mumbled under his breath, blinking quickly, forcing an exhale through his nostrils. "... I can't… I can't make anything good with them right now, but they're fine… my hands are fine…"
"Jacky?"
"... They're fine… I'm fine…" He continued to say, starting to wheeze between his breaths. He let go of the computer mouse and buried his face in his hands with a weak groan as he sank into the chair. "... I'm fine… I'm fine… I'm fuh-fine…"
His fingers scrunched around his head feathers and Claire quickly caught him by the wrists before he could begin plucking them out absentmindedly.
"Jacky, I'm sorry, we should have waited to do this in the morning." She said apologetically. "This didn't help anything at all, I'm sorry."
"... It's not the computer thing, it's… Claire, what am I supposed to do if I c-can't make toys again?"
The question caught her off guard. Of all the things he could have been upset about at the moment, and she honestly didn't expect that. Of course, considering how passionate he was about the craft, and how his entire adult life had centered around creating and crafting playthings, she couldn't blame him for being devastated at the thought of his dreams being ripped from him for something as simple as a loss of dexterity because of his brain injury.
"... Well, I think what you can do is just keep working your hands and just do the best you can." She said, pulling his hands away from his head carefully. "Maybe I could get projects to do, maybe something with yarn? Maybe you could knit little dolls?"
"... Knitting?"
"Yeah. That's not a bad idea, is it?"
"No, I don't have anything against knitting, but… I think that's a little too advanced for me right now." Jacky frowned, glancing at his hands with an awkward twitch of the fingers. "Besides, I don't even know if I'd be able to get an idea out to begin with. I haven't even been able to think of ideas for months, I used to just fill out pages and pages of notebooks with ideas, and now I can't even remember the number for the channel with the cheesy sci-fi movies!" He suddenly shouted, yanking his hands out of hers.
Claire was taken a little by surprise by the sudden change of demeanor. She wasn't so much confused by the expected mood swings as she was just unprepared for him to meltdown.
"... Jacky-"
"Stop it, stop patronizing me, stop acting like this is normal, this is not normal, I'm not normal!" Jacky screamed, jumping up from the computer chair. "Why aren't you mad at me! I ruined everything, doesn't that make you angry! Yell at me or whatever, just stop making excuses for me, I can't take it, just do something, anything, I just have to know if you hate me now!"
"Jacky, I don't-" Claire said hesitantly, eyeing him with concern as he rapidly began dissolving emotionally. "Jacky, you know that's not how-"
"Don't tell me what I know, I don't know what I know, that's why we're here to begin with!" He shrieked, grabbing the hefty scrapbook off the desk with both hands and throwing it on the floor at his feet with enough force to cause the floorboards to shudder a little from the impact.
He kicked it and the book slapped into the front door, which was adjacent to where the computer desk was located, which I should probably take a moment to say that the desk was a few strides away from the bookcase that Jacky had been found by at the start of this scene, so you can understand that this was happening in such an enclosed space. Claire was standing on the side of the area closer to the hallway and entrance to the kitchen, so she was not unintentionally blocked from stepping aside as he directed his rage at the scrapbook.
"Jacky, you're going to destroy that book if you keep doing that!" She said to deaf ears, watching in a state of shock as he stomped on the book as it lay open haphazardly, causing the spine of the book to warp from him bearing his entire weight down on it. Pages tore out, crumpling and crinkling from the repeated bringing of his foot down on it, creasing the hardbound cover, kicking at it again, and again, and again, and again…
It was his own book, so he could technically do whatever he wanted to it, but it was unsettling to see him blow up like this after so much time spent handling the scrapbooks with such care. He screamed, threw himself on the floor, and grabbed at the loose pages, pinning them to the floor with one hand and pulling them apart with the other. His face was twisted in a pained grimace, tears pouring down his cheeks, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath between his screams of… anger? Anguish? It was honestly hard to pinpoint the exact emotion he was displaying. He beat his fists into the twisted mess of pages with each breathless word.
"Stupid! Can't even-! I hate this, hate all of this, stupid idiot, stupid, stupid, can't do anything right, I don't want this, I never wanted this, I just, just, juh-just… Sssstaahh-ha-haahp…" He moaned, dissolving into shaky sobs as he toppled sideways against the wall in exhaustion.
Claire had been watching this all unfold mutely, unsure if she should have approached him during the fit or just waited for him to wear himself down. She couldn't help but notice that he'd directed all that against the scrapbook and never once tried to reach for the computer or its peripherals, even as his attack on the book had reached a fever pitch.
"... Jacky?" She said in a soft tone, stepping towards him as she stepped around the wadded mass of paper mess. "... Hey, what's up?"
Jacky gasped and wheezed, unable to form a coherent sentence, but gestured towards the mangled book with a whine set in the back of his throat.
"... Yeah, that's a bit of a mess, but that's not the end of the world."
"... ruined…" He managed through another moan, shaking his head. "... s'ruined…"
"We can probably salvage the rest of the pages, and you can make new ones if you want, but that's not important right now." Claire said, sitting down beside him again. "... You still like balloon animals?"
"..."
"..."
"... What?"
"Little red balloon dogs. They're nice."
Jacky stared at her with an extremely exhausted look in his eyes. He looked at the book, then her, then the book again, as if trying to figure out what exactly did balloons have to do with the mess. Then he quietly crawled over to her, laid down on his back and set his head on her lap.
"... Mmph." He grumbled.
"... Do you just want to go back to bed?"
There was a yawn, but no direct verbal response.
"Jacky, please, don't shut me out, talk to me."
"... I think I would have rather my fingers had been broken instead."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"At least I'd know how long until they could heal. I don't know if they're ever going to be the same again, and the problem isn't that they're broken, it's that my brain is broken." Jacky said quietly, holding his hands out in front of him, palm side up. "Like I bruised a nerve in it or whatever it is that makes it let me do stuff."
"Well, you did fall about three stories, and landed on your head on the pavement. By all accounts, your brain was damaged."
Jacky snorted bitterly.
"As if implying my brain was all there to begin with." He wheezed as if trying to fight back another strange laughing fit. "I don't think you've ever even seen me 'normal'."
"I've seen you as you."
"I just killed a book, by the way." Jacky said, frowning. "I could have lashed out at something else. I've done that before. Remember the surveillance tape? I strangled that thing; maybe it's best that I can't use my hands the right way anymore…"
"Jacky, I think you're just tired, you don't really mean all that."
"Maybe I do. I can be mean." He grumbled as he felt a hand touch his forehead.
"Your face is still a little hot." Claire said, wondering if the low fever was a somewhat to blame for his current irritability and grumpy behavior.
"And you're a cutie too." Jacky stuck his tongue out playfully.
"Come on, let's get you back to bed." Claire said, pushing him upright, off her lap, so she could stand. "We don't want you having a relapse."
"... Why would there be a relapse? I've only had the fever today, and nothing else happened." Jacky said, narrowing his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at her, still sitting.
"Jacky, you also fainted earlier."
"Yeah. Fainted. Nothing else."
"That's hardly 'nothing', really."
"Enough of nothing that you didn't have to take me back to the hospital."
"Because it's a Sunday. They're closed on Sundays except for emergency room visits."
"... Dang, St. Canard's health care system is incredibly flawed." Jacky agreed in a low voice, scratching his head before shrugging. "Of course, considering how many abandoned districts, I guess the economy isn't any better, why do we live here again, wouldn't it make sense to take up residence in Duckburg, I think they get an economy boost every other week…"
"... I mean, it's kind of…" Claire started, before exhaling and asking once again: "Jacky, are you coming to bed or not?"
"Yeah, whatever, I just, what are we going to do with all this shredded paper?"
"We'll pick it up tomorrow when we're a little more rested, it's not a big deal right now." Claire said, quietly exhaling a sigh. "I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but I just want you to have at least some semblance of rest before this weekend is over."
"I don't really think I've had a night without insomnia for years, that's a bit of a task to tackle." Jacky said, putting his hand on the ground to brace himself to stand, rump and tail feathers in the air first, trying to keep his balance. He looked down at the shreds of book littered around his hands and tilted his head."... Hey, this picture didn't get ruined, I think we can salvage this one."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, it's not the same kind of film as the rest, I think this was a different kind of camera picture. That's odd, I don't remember using this kind of film…" He said, picking up the photo while getting himself upright. "... I couldn't have used that, this is a me picture. Who took this one? I still have my cap and costume…" He looked down, and pushed aside destroyed paper pages with a foot before finding what was still attached to the biding. "... There's some more on these pages, I didn't put those there."
"They have a digital photo printer service at the Mally-Wart, those are from my phone." Claire said, reaching for the picture he tossed in the air while he picked up the undamaged pages. "... I actually forgot I'd added these, they're from-"
"When we went to see the azaleas blooming in Spoonerville!" Jacky said excitedly, lighting up at the flood of memories attached to that. "It was such a nice day, and we had sandwiches, and sat on the bench, and there was flowers everywhere and I almost choked on a bug! That was the last good day I remember before all this happened! I was so disappointed when I realized I forgot the camera, I didn't realize you had taken pictures, they can print them out from phones now, why didn't anyone tell me I've been doing that the hard way all this time, how do you get the film off the phone, I can only figure out how to send the pictures to another phone, hey, that's when I fell asleep on the bench, you didn't mention you'd taken pictures, look at all the flowers, there's so much color!"
The complete one-eighty Jacky's composure had taken once he'd seen the photos was a little jarring, but… it was nice to just see him so jovial again, even if it wasn't going to last.
"... I take it that you like the pages I added?"
"I mean, that would explain why there's no dust on the scrapbooks since last time, but these are cute, I wouldn't have thought of using candid shots, all the photos I take are always set up to look the way I wanted, like a catalog picture, but, but, but these look way more… natural." Jacky said, holding the pages to his chest fondly, eyes wide and shimmering with interest. "I usually don't see a lot of clear pictures with me in costume that aren't news reports or without handcuffs. These are nice."
"I mean, it's just some pictures I took of our trip, I wasn't trying for anything special, I just liked how they turned out."
"They look great, I want them." Jacky insisted. "I almost never look good in pictures; bad lighting, the flash made me blink, I never know how big to smile, that kind of stuff."
"I don't think I've seen you smile like this in a long time, Jacky." Claire said, handing the photograph in her hands back to him. "You really like the pictures, huh?"
"They're way better than anything Darkwing is making me look at; at least I remember this day." Jacky said, nodding. "... Gosh, I got really close to destroying these, why didn't you try to stop me?"
"Jacky, it's really late, I wasn't exactly thinking that you would be tearing up a book at this hour, I don't even know what time it really is now, if you want the pictures, then okay, but please, come back to bed." Claire said, gesturing to the bedroom. "It's getting very late, and I want you to at least try to get some sleep."
"I like these, it looks like there's care in how they were taken." Jacky said, not exactly giving a direct answer to the statement.
Deciding that maybe he needed prompting in the right direction, Claire stepped behind him and nudged him forward. Jacky looked at her over his shoulder.
"Don't push."
"Jacky, under normal circumstances, I'd fully agree with you, but I'm just trying to get you to go back to bed."
"I'm just going to be up again in a few hours anyway, we both know how this pans out." Jacky said, shrugging. "I wake up, you wake up, we're both tired, I don't make this any easier, rinse and repeat."
"... Just go back to bed, Jacky."