Shared Misery
Someone had been watching him for the last hour that he had been in the bar. He didn't care though, if someone felt like they had to stare at a broken man then who was he to stop them?
He knew that he should go home and try to sort things out with Sara, but he just could not face another argument at the moment. It was an argument that had driven him here in the first place. Sara wouldn't let him bring alcohol into the house after what had happened after the funeral. Jack knew that trying to drown his problems in alcohol would just leave him feeling worse in the long run, but it numbed him for a while. He tilted his head back and finished his drink. The chink of metal around his neck broke through his thoughts. He had officially retired this morning; everyone knew that it had been coming so he had just made it official. The tags remained however; he could not quite bring himself to lose them just yet.
Unexpectedly another glass was put in front of him, "Hey I didn't order this."
"No, but she did," said the barkeep pointing towards the other end of the bar.
Jack looked at the brunette sitting almost directly opposite him, with her own glass of amber fluid, and raised the glass as a way of thanks. He had no idea who she was but was not going to turn down a free drink. She smiled back at him, she was beautiful. Jack spared a moment to look at her properly. From what he could see her hair was shoulder length, neatly framing her face, and her skin seemed pale especially under the dim lighting of the bar. Only a little of her figure was visible, but she seemed to be built very delicately. She knew that he was looking at her because when his eyes reached hers they were met. Jack could see even over the distance that her eyes had a definite sparkle in them, although one of them seemed slightly smaller. Jack drew his gaze outwards slightly and took in for the first time the semi-black eye she had. She seemed to know what had caught his attention, the sparkle went out of her eyes and she drew back a little.
Idly Jack wondered where she had managed to get such a shiner from, but not really caring. He didn't look at her again, but the next time the barkeeper walked past he paid for her next drink. He sat and brooded for a while, thinking back over the argument again. He couldn't remember what had sparked it off, but all arguments led to the same topics, Charlie's death and his behaviour. She had accused him of withdrawing into himself, of not loving her anymore. Jack knew the reason she thought he didn't love her anymore was because he barely slept in the same bed as her. It wasn't that he didn't love her, he did in a way, but he hated himself too much.
She had also told him to stop blaming himself. Who else was there to blame? It wasn't like Charlie had been killed by some murderer or by a freak accident. He had taken his fathers gun and shot himself. The gun that he had frequently seen his father cleaning, a gun like the guns he had seen pictures of his Dad with.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Jack felt the rage build inside of him, and squeezed the glass in his hand so hard that it shattered. He didn't even let go. He could feel the pain of where the glass had cut into his hand, and the sting of the whiskey seeping into the cuts, but it felt apart from him. Through his clouded eyes he saw the first drop of blood fall on the wood of the bar, swiftly followed by others. No one seemed to have noticed.
Then a hand appeared on his arm, he flinched away from the contact, but it stayed there. "Leave me alone," he choked.
"No," said a firm voice. He looked up and saw the brunette, "You need to have that hand seen to, I'm a doctor let me help."
He really did not want her help, and would have quite happily sat there all night holding the broken glass in his hand. However he had been trained to except orders, and something in the woman's voice made him agree.
"Fine."
Slowly she prised his fingers apart, and plucked the pieces of glass out of his hand. The barkeeper had noticed what was happening and came over. "Is everything all right here?"
"Could I please have your first aid kit, and could you show me to a sink where I can wash this"
She sounds used to giving orders as well, who is this woman, Jack wondered.
The barkeeper showed them round the back of the bar to a sink and handed the woman a first aid kit, he then left to deal with his customers.
"My names Janet by the way."
"Jack," he grunted in return.
A silence fell between them while she treated his hand, and she appeared to have given up talking to him. He felt no pain when she touched it, the alcohol had dulled his senses. He wondered why she was doing this. Why she was bothering to help a complete stranger, who was quite clearly drunk. He watched her as she worked. Her obvious beauty was not wasted on him and he wasn't surprised when he saw the wedding ring on her hand.
"There," she said as she finished. "You should get that bandage changed in a couple of days, but you probably won't."
He looked up at her sharply, "Why wouldn't I?"
"You look like you have more important things to worry about," she said simply.
"What do you mean?"
"Excuse me for making observations but you don't look exactly happy, and you've just spent the last 4 hours getting steadily drunk."
"Well I can just ask you why you have been sitting at the same bar for the last 4 hours, and what you did to get such nice black eye from?" Jack bit back at her.
She moved away from him like she had been scalded. "Nothing, I did nothing," she whispered. She turned her back on him and started to clean the sink up.
Jack just stood there, listening to the sounds of the bar. He realised that she had stopped cleaning the sink, and seemed to be just standing there as well, that was until he saw her shoulders tremble ever so slightly.
Jack felt like a complete bastard. "Hey look I'm sorry for being such an idiot. I really do appreciate you helping me, and I shouldn't have been such a git."
"It's ok," she said her voice trembling slightly.
"No it's not," he said softly and moved towards her. He was standing right beside her now, and could see her hands gripping the side of the sink, turning white at the knuckles. He put his uninjured hand on her shoulder, as a gesture of reassurance. Her muscles tensed at the contact. She felt like she was ready to explode. "Janet, I'm sorry." She trembled and he thought that he heard a quiet sob. Very gently Jack applied pressure to her shoulder and got her to turn around.
Janet had tears streaming down her face, and couldn't bring herself to look at him. He put his hand up to her face, noticing her slight flinch again, and wiped away some of her tears with his thumb. "Shit, don't cry. God I'm such a bastard."
"It's not you," she sniffed. "It's my husband."
A sudden realisation dawned on Jack, without thinking he put his arms around her and drew her close to his body. She came here to escape he thought, and ended up being abused by a stranger she was trying to help. Janet had immediately tensed up as he drew her to him. He started to absent-mindedly stroke small circles on her back. Little by little she relaxed and then she began to sob again.
***
I can still remember that moment even now, three and a half years later. I'm surprised just how clearly I can remember the feel of his arms around me, and his hands on my back, soothing my troubles away. Of course, even he could not really solve the problems that I had, but at that instant, he started to help.
***
Gradually her sobs had subsided, but still he held onto her. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he had started to enjoy the feel of her body against his. Maybe it was when he noticed how exquisitely she smelled; maybe it was just the way she fitted to his body or it may have just been the way that he felt something aside from grief. He had, despite his own self- pity, immediately begun to care for the woman he held in his arms and felt the need to protect her. Not knowing what else to do, he continued to move his hands in small circles on her back.
She was lost in him. The scent of him surrounded her, through the smell of cigarettes and whiskey she could detect him. A comforting smell which held her. His strong arms around her, and the movement of his hands upon her back were pushing her over the edge of some unspecified barrier. Unexpectedly she found herself no longer enjoying the embrace. She wanted more than this stranger's sympathy, she wanted him. She wanted to feel his body against hers, out of the confines of simple clothes. She ached in a way she thought she had forgotten. It was too much to have this tiny part of him when she wanted more. Unwillingly a tiny muffled moan escaped her.
The soothing hands froze and she hardly dared to breath. Then came that voice, "You ok?" The spell was broken and reality invaded.
She worked her arms free from where they had been crushed against his body, and pushed her self out of his hold. She sniffed in the most un-erotic way imaginable. "Yeah sorry about that."
"Hey, don't apologise it's ok. Err...do you want to talk about it." He saw the effect his words had on her. His heart, still racing immediately began to slow. Her face became almost devoid of emotion, and her hazel eyes still wet with tears became cold. When she spoke her voice was crystal-clear.
"No."
***
The barman walked in at that point. Jack took him to one side and after a brief conversation had come over and told me how I shouldn't go home, not yet and how there was a motel just across the road where I could stay. I could have said no, but he was right I didn't want to go home.
It had been cold outside. With my arms wrapped around myself, protecting from an almost forgotten cold, I fall back into my memory.
***
She stood in the doorway of her room and said, "You really didn't have to do this." He had secured her a room, and even (she suspected) had already settled the bill with the motel owner.
"Just think of it as a thank you for treating my hand. Is there anything else I can do for you? I mean after tonight are you going to be ok?"
"I'll be fine. You can't really do anymore than this for me anyway." A slight smile alighted her features, "I am grateful."
"But.... but what about him?"
She put a hand on his arm, "Jack I have to sort this out for myself."
He appeared to think for a moment, and then shaking off her arm he rummaged around in his pockets until he came up with a pen and paper. Swiftly he scribbled something down and handed it to her. "If you ever need anything, or think of something I can do, just call this number." He held it out to her, willing her to take it. She did, but in doing so moved slightly closer to him.
"Thank you". They stood close together. Breathing in each other's air. Both knowing what they wanted, but neither knowing how to act. Nothing could have distracted them at that moment, only the actions of the other. Their bodies acted for them. As if they were drawn to each other their faces became closer and closer, so in the end all he had to do was tilt his head slightly and their lips met. It was tentative and slow, as first kisses tend to be, but the spark that was ignited burned brightly. Each revelled in the feel of the others lips against theirs, and doubt flew from their minds. Mouths opened and tongues danced. Soon however that was insufficient for what they both wanted. He backed her against the doorframe and changed the tone of the kiss; it became more fierce, more needful. Pushing her further into the room, he kicked the door shut. Eager hands fought with suddenly suffocating clothes, and their bodies were in constant motion. The desperate need, which filled both of them, dictated all their actions. Suddenly both pairs of questing hands found something wrong, something that did not belong.
Both of them looked at the cool metal that they held in their hands. They did not speak, simultaneously the metal bonds were removed and discarded on the floor. The sound of metal hitting metal broke through his lust and pulled at Jack. He broke off from kissing her and held her away from him at arms length. His breaths came in short rasping pants, "Janet...can't...not right.... you.... we.upset.don't want to hurt."
She took in the picture of him at that moment. Their fevered activity had left him with a sheen that covered all the parts of his body that she could see. The more she looked at him, the more irrational she felt. Although his face conveyed confusion and worry, his obvious arousal only spoke of certainty. Brushing his hands off her, she moved back to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "I know we're both upset, why else would we be here. You must understand though, I am asking nothing of you, and you aren't asking me. We are just two people with a mutual attraction." As she spoke, she dragged her nails down his chest teasing every inch of skin they passed over. "I don't know where this is going, or even if it's going anywhere at all." Her hands were splayed over his taut stomach now, which was twitching beneath her palms. "But I do know, that we both want this." She caught his mouth with hers in a wanton kiss, where she sucked his tongue into her mouth and mimicked what they wanted. She stopped the kiss, and looking up into his dark eyes whispered a throaty "Use me."
With a low growl, he lunged at her and began an assault on her neck. Laughing a little, she pulled him towards the bed.
***
That growl! Of course, that was what distracted me so much earlier. The animal growled at me that way through the grill. It knows me, possibly even remembers me as a past mate.
Suddenly the door to my office is flung open and one of my nurses runs into the room. "Sorry to disturb you Doctor but there's been a fight in one of the cells and we've got two injured being brought from the iso' rooms."
Was it my presence that made him so violent? Did I make it worse?
Standing up, I grab my stethoscope "What have we got?"
"Captain Carter with an apparent stab wound to the lower abdomen, and her cell mate with a possible broken arm, fractured ribs and numerous other injuries."
As I leave my office, I try to forget just how close I came to growling back.
Someone had been watching him for the last hour that he had been in the bar. He didn't care though, if someone felt like they had to stare at a broken man then who was he to stop them?
He knew that he should go home and try to sort things out with Sara, but he just could not face another argument at the moment. It was an argument that had driven him here in the first place. Sara wouldn't let him bring alcohol into the house after what had happened after the funeral. Jack knew that trying to drown his problems in alcohol would just leave him feeling worse in the long run, but it numbed him for a while. He tilted his head back and finished his drink. The chink of metal around his neck broke through his thoughts. He had officially retired this morning; everyone knew that it had been coming so he had just made it official. The tags remained however; he could not quite bring himself to lose them just yet.
Unexpectedly another glass was put in front of him, "Hey I didn't order this."
"No, but she did," said the barkeep pointing towards the other end of the bar.
Jack looked at the brunette sitting almost directly opposite him, with her own glass of amber fluid, and raised the glass as a way of thanks. He had no idea who she was but was not going to turn down a free drink. She smiled back at him, she was beautiful. Jack spared a moment to look at her properly. From what he could see her hair was shoulder length, neatly framing her face, and her skin seemed pale especially under the dim lighting of the bar. Only a little of her figure was visible, but she seemed to be built very delicately. She knew that he was looking at her because when his eyes reached hers they were met. Jack could see even over the distance that her eyes had a definite sparkle in them, although one of them seemed slightly smaller. Jack drew his gaze outwards slightly and took in for the first time the semi-black eye she had. She seemed to know what had caught his attention, the sparkle went out of her eyes and she drew back a little.
Idly Jack wondered where she had managed to get such a shiner from, but not really caring. He didn't look at her again, but the next time the barkeeper walked past he paid for her next drink. He sat and brooded for a while, thinking back over the argument again. He couldn't remember what had sparked it off, but all arguments led to the same topics, Charlie's death and his behaviour. She had accused him of withdrawing into himself, of not loving her anymore. Jack knew the reason she thought he didn't love her anymore was because he barely slept in the same bed as her. It wasn't that he didn't love her, he did in a way, but he hated himself too much.
She had also told him to stop blaming himself. Who else was there to blame? It wasn't like Charlie had been killed by some murderer or by a freak accident. He had taken his fathers gun and shot himself. The gun that he had frequently seen his father cleaning, a gun like the guns he had seen pictures of his Dad with.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Jack felt the rage build inside of him, and squeezed the glass in his hand so hard that it shattered. He didn't even let go. He could feel the pain of where the glass had cut into his hand, and the sting of the whiskey seeping into the cuts, but it felt apart from him. Through his clouded eyes he saw the first drop of blood fall on the wood of the bar, swiftly followed by others. No one seemed to have noticed.
Then a hand appeared on his arm, he flinched away from the contact, but it stayed there. "Leave me alone," he choked.
"No," said a firm voice. He looked up and saw the brunette, "You need to have that hand seen to, I'm a doctor let me help."
He really did not want her help, and would have quite happily sat there all night holding the broken glass in his hand. However he had been trained to except orders, and something in the woman's voice made him agree.
"Fine."
Slowly she prised his fingers apart, and plucked the pieces of glass out of his hand. The barkeeper had noticed what was happening and came over. "Is everything all right here?"
"Could I please have your first aid kit, and could you show me to a sink where I can wash this"
She sounds used to giving orders as well, who is this woman, Jack wondered.
The barkeeper showed them round the back of the bar to a sink and handed the woman a first aid kit, he then left to deal with his customers.
"My names Janet by the way."
"Jack," he grunted in return.
A silence fell between them while she treated his hand, and she appeared to have given up talking to him. He felt no pain when she touched it, the alcohol had dulled his senses. He wondered why she was doing this. Why she was bothering to help a complete stranger, who was quite clearly drunk. He watched her as she worked. Her obvious beauty was not wasted on him and he wasn't surprised when he saw the wedding ring on her hand.
"There," she said as she finished. "You should get that bandage changed in a couple of days, but you probably won't."
He looked up at her sharply, "Why wouldn't I?"
"You look like you have more important things to worry about," she said simply.
"What do you mean?"
"Excuse me for making observations but you don't look exactly happy, and you've just spent the last 4 hours getting steadily drunk."
"Well I can just ask you why you have been sitting at the same bar for the last 4 hours, and what you did to get such nice black eye from?" Jack bit back at her.
She moved away from him like she had been scalded. "Nothing, I did nothing," she whispered. She turned her back on him and started to clean the sink up.
Jack just stood there, listening to the sounds of the bar. He realised that she had stopped cleaning the sink, and seemed to be just standing there as well, that was until he saw her shoulders tremble ever so slightly.
Jack felt like a complete bastard. "Hey look I'm sorry for being such an idiot. I really do appreciate you helping me, and I shouldn't have been such a git."
"It's ok," she said her voice trembling slightly.
"No it's not," he said softly and moved towards her. He was standing right beside her now, and could see her hands gripping the side of the sink, turning white at the knuckles. He put his uninjured hand on her shoulder, as a gesture of reassurance. Her muscles tensed at the contact. She felt like she was ready to explode. "Janet, I'm sorry." She trembled and he thought that he heard a quiet sob. Very gently Jack applied pressure to her shoulder and got her to turn around.
Janet had tears streaming down her face, and couldn't bring herself to look at him. He put his hand up to her face, noticing her slight flinch again, and wiped away some of her tears with his thumb. "Shit, don't cry. God I'm such a bastard."
"It's not you," she sniffed. "It's my husband."
A sudden realisation dawned on Jack, without thinking he put his arms around her and drew her close to his body. She came here to escape he thought, and ended up being abused by a stranger she was trying to help. Janet had immediately tensed up as he drew her to him. He started to absent-mindedly stroke small circles on her back. Little by little she relaxed and then she began to sob again.
***
I can still remember that moment even now, three and a half years later. I'm surprised just how clearly I can remember the feel of his arms around me, and his hands on my back, soothing my troubles away. Of course, even he could not really solve the problems that I had, but at that instant, he started to help.
***
Gradually her sobs had subsided, but still he held onto her. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he had started to enjoy the feel of her body against his. Maybe it was when he noticed how exquisitely she smelled; maybe it was just the way she fitted to his body or it may have just been the way that he felt something aside from grief. He had, despite his own self- pity, immediately begun to care for the woman he held in his arms and felt the need to protect her. Not knowing what else to do, he continued to move his hands in small circles on her back.
She was lost in him. The scent of him surrounded her, through the smell of cigarettes and whiskey she could detect him. A comforting smell which held her. His strong arms around her, and the movement of his hands upon her back were pushing her over the edge of some unspecified barrier. Unexpectedly she found herself no longer enjoying the embrace. She wanted more than this stranger's sympathy, she wanted him. She wanted to feel his body against hers, out of the confines of simple clothes. She ached in a way she thought she had forgotten. It was too much to have this tiny part of him when she wanted more. Unwillingly a tiny muffled moan escaped her.
The soothing hands froze and she hardly dared to breath. Then came that voice, "You ok?" The spell was broken and reality invaded.
She worked her arms free from where they had been crushed against his body, and pushed her self out of his hold. She sniffed in the most un-erotic way imaginable. "Yeah sorry about that."
"Hey, don't apologise it's ok. Err...do you want to talk about it." He saw the effect his words had on her. His heart, still racing immediately began to slow. Her face became almost devoid of emotion, and her hazel eyes still wet with tears became cold. When she spoke her voice was crystal-clear.
"No."
***
The barman walked in at that point. Jack took him to one side and after a brief conversation had come over and told me how I shouldn't go home, not yet and how there was a motel just across the road where I could stay. I could have said no, but he was right I didn't want to go home.
It had been cold outside. With my arms wrapped around myself, protecting from an almost forgotten cold, I fall back into my memory.
***
She stood in the doorway of her room and said, "You really didn't have to do this." He had secured her a room, and even (she suspected) had already settled the bill with the motel owner.
"Just think of it as a thank you for treating my hand. Is there anything else I can do for you? I mean after tonight are you going to be ok?"
"I'll be fine. You can't really do anymore than this for me anyway." A slight smile alighted her features, "I am grateful."
"But.... but what about him?"
She put a hand on his arm, "Jack I have to sort this out for myself."
He appeared to think for a moment, and then shaking off her arm he rummaged around in his pockets until he came up with a pen and paper. Swiftly he scribbled something down and handed it to her. "If you ever need anything, or think of something I can do, just call this number." He held it out to her, willing her to take it. She did, but in doing so moved slightly closer to him.
"Thank you". They stood close together. Breathing in each other's air. Both knowing what they wanted, but neither knowing how to act. Nothing could have distracted them at that moment, only the actions of the other. Their bodies acted for them. As if they were drawn to each other their faces became closer and closer, so in the end all he had to do was tilt his head slightly and their lips met. It was tentative and slow, as first kisses tend to be, but the spark that was ignited burned brightly. Each revelled in the feel of the others lips against theirs, and doubt flew from their minds. Mouths opened and tongues danced. Soon however that was insufficient for what they both wanted. He backed her against the doorframe and changed the tone of the kiss; it became more fierce, more needful. Pushing her further into the room, he kicked the door shut. Eager hands fought with suddenly suffocating clothes, and their bodies were in constant motion. The desperate need, which filled both of them, dictated all their actions. Suddenly both pairs of questing hands found something wrong, something that did not belong.
Both of them looked at the cool metal that they held in their hands. They did not speak, simultaneously the metal bonds were removed and discarded on the floor. The sound of metal hitting metal broke through his lust and pulled at Jack. He broke off from kissing her and held her away from him at arms length. His breaths came in short rasping pants, "Janet...can't...not right.... you.... we.upset.don't want to hurt."
She took in the picture of him at that moment. Their fevered activity had left him with a sheen that covered all the parts of his body that she could see. The more she looked at him, the more irrational she felt. Although his face conveyed confusion and worry, his obvious arousal only spoke of certainty. Brushing his hands off her, she moved back to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "I know we're both upset, why else would we be here. You must understand though, I am asking nothing of you, and you aren't asking me. We are just two people with a mutual attraction." As she spoke, she dragged her nails down his chest teasing every inch of skin they passed over. "I don't know where this is going, or even if it's going anywhere at all." Her hands were splayed over his taut stomach now, which was twitching beneath her palms. "But I do know, that we both want this." She caught his mouth with hers in a wanton kiss, where she sucked his tongue into her mouth and mimicked what they wanted. She stopped the kiss, and looking up into his dark eyes whispered a throaty "Use me."
With a low growl, he lunged at her and began an assault on her neck. Laughing a little, she pulled him towards the bed.
***
That growl! Of course, that was what distracted me so much earlier. The animal growled at me that way through the grill. It knows me, possibly even remembers me as a past mate.
Suddenly the door to my office is flung open and one of my nurses runs into the room. "Sorry to disturb you Doctor but there's been a fight in one of the cells and we've got two injured being brought from the iso' rooms."
Was it my presence that made him so violent? Did I make it worse?
Standing up, I grab my stethoscope "What have we got?"
"Captain Carter with an apparent stab wound to the lower abdomen, and her cell mate with a possible broken arm, fractured ribs and numerous other injuries."
As I leave my office, I try to forget just how close I came to growling back.