Title: Stray Bullet
Fandom: So Weird
Pairings: If you know me by now, you know that I like to make you guess
Rating: R
Genre: Angst/Romance
Summary: "Jack can find no reason for this sick and senseless act of fate; he can't contemplate the reasons why this unfriendly accident could cut him down to this…" Slash.
Disclaimer: I don't own So Weird. If anyone's willing to buy it for me, though…I would not protest.
Author's Note: Written for soweird100's Roger Corman title drabble challenge.
Jack stumbled back, clutching at his red t-shirt.
It seemed he couldn't understand the logic of this greater plan; couldn't comprehend the randomness behind the bullet that went wild and pierced him in his chest.
The man behind the K-Mart counter was screaming by the time Jack's body pitched back against the candy-bar rack and sagged against the floor; the thug with the gun was still screaming about the cash register, but his hands were shaking and he didn't fire another warning shot.
Impossible, thought Jack; who robs a K-Mart?—this is—this is just a dream. I'm not dying. I—this is unfair; this is unfair, do you hear me?!
Then the guy is running off with his pitiful plethora of small bills; but Jack doesn't care, because he can't quite breathe right and there's no feeling in his legs.
The pain is purged through his jagged, halting screams until he passes out, to the plaintive wails of the approaching ambulance.
The doctors dig into his chest with clumsy-feeling fingers and metal instruments; later, the only thing Jack understands are the words "I'm sorry; you're paralyzed" and "you'll never walk again."
Jack can find no reason for this sick and senseless act of fate; he can't contemplate the reasons why this unfriendly accident could cut him down to this, because there are no reasons—there is nothing to explain why tragedies happen to good people, and a single, isolated incident can ruin the rest of your life.
"What a shame"; "Are you alright?"; "Are things okay?"; "I know things seem bad now, but…"
And what stupid things to say to a man (an invalid) in a hospital bed.
Fiona—back to her old ways—suspects the supernatural in this case; Jack calls her a fucking lunatic and she leaves.
Molly can't stop crying; she tries to be strong for his sake, but ends up breaking down in a bathroom stall and taking a sedative. She's driven home.
Ned and Irene are tear-stained and can't muster up the right words; they feel like strangers, and it's a relief when they break the awkward semi-silence, and leave.
Carey and Annie come by, and it almost makes him want to break down and cry, right there in plain sight. They hold hands and tell him that everything will work out, but their engagement rings glisten and shine in the harsh fluorescent lights, and he knows they'll have everything he ever wanted without even having to try. Things are easy for them that way.
And Clu—he's the one thing Jack can't face.
Jack can't look him in the eyes because he's afraid; he's petrified he'll find pity in that gaze, and fall apart.
But that night, Clu closes the door, and it's just them.
Jack can't keep pretending that he's strong enough to bear this burden alone, and Clu's mouth on his tears him apart.
His anguished sobs are held in by Clu's strong hands against his face and sloping neck, and their kisses are salty-sweet with tears and angry grief.