A/N Okay, Happy Belated (enter your holiday of choice here). An extra long chapter, because I just couldn't split it up. As always, all reviews are appreciated, and I take all comments or suggestions. If there is something you don't like, is wrong, or desperately need changed, drop me a line. I appreciate all feed back.
AgentReznick: I know, I know, I just kindof hoped everyone would bypass that little fact.begs forgiveness I just couldn't imagine calling Jack anything but, well...Jack.
Warning - the following content is mildly fluffy, at parts cheesy, and definitely cliched, but, yeah...
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Sara watched the sleeping form lying in her bed. After Jack had fought, he had nearly collapsed. She had barely managed to get him standing, and had ended up half carrying him home. The gash on his head had been widened by the hit to the head he had taken, and she had spent a good hour already, picking out the gravel and dirt. As it happened, that was no easy task to perform on an unconsciencous person. Especially one that insisted on twitching every couple minutes. The only saving grace she could find was that he had cut his hair short a few days earlier, so it wasn't interfering with the wound. She had taken a break, and grabbed a cup of coffee. She had found a first aid kit, but she was going to need to be a little more awake then she currently was, to piece his head back together.
Leaning back, she thought of the fight. He had protected her, probably saved her life, but... still. The way he had moved, he had fought like that before. She shuddered as she thought back to one moment. He had been throwing a punch and had twisted, showing her his face. She had seen his eyes, and it had unnerved her. Before she had met him, she had prided herself on reading people. As a waitress she had grown a feel for people. Kind, mean, on-the-run, guys with sick minds, she could sense them all. But Jack had stumped her. He was kind, and had helped her on the first day they had met, but actions can lie. Eyes can't. Or at least they couldn't. He had seemed nice enough...but something nagged at the back of her brain. Hours earlier, she had thought of him as pure. But now she was even more unsure: was he pure good, or pure evil.
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Jack woke with a start, jolting forward. His neck let out a flash of pain, and he rested his head back in it's original position. Then panic jumped to the forefront of Jack's mind, as his brain failed to process where he was. He forced his eyes open, and glanced around the room as best he could without moving his neck.
He was in a warm room, lying on a soft bed. The room was mismatched colour-wise, but organized. He could see a small window facing him, and noted it was still dark outside. His eyes slowly grew into focus, and came to rest on Sara. She was slumped over onto a side table beside the bed, with a coffee cup in one hand, and using her arm as a pillow. He smiled slightly, then stopped himself. He needed to leave, NOW. This was getting personal, and he couldn't let that happen, especially now. Jack heard a slight buzzing in the background of his mind, and tried to ignore it, but it continued. Moments later, he was back in the quiet numbness he had been woke from seconds earlier.
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"But why can't you just wake him up?" a voice whispered. A second voice appeared, this time closer.
"Because, now go outside and play. Quietly, this time. Ok?"
Jack twisted and inadvertently let out a low moan.
"Shhhh, now go." Feet pattered away as Jack woke up. He opened his eyes slowly, and winced at the glaring light. Closing his eyes immediately, Jack wished he wasn't awake. A head came into view, blocking the offending glare, and his eyes opened further.
"Now sit still, try not to move around, I still don't know how badly you're injured yet. Jack, can you hear me? Jack?" He nodded, while closing his eyes.
"Oh no you don't, don't go back to sleep yet, you need to help me out here." Jack opened his eyes halfway, and winced once more as she moved out of the way of the light.
"Can you, um, shut the blinds, or something. The light is really, um, bright. Thanks." His throat scratched as he spoke, and he swallowed several times.
"Look, sorry, about all this. I need to get going... I need to get to work..." He moved to get up, and Sara almost lept on him.
"Don't you even think about it. I called your work. I'm friends with the manager, remember, told him all about you and this little fight. He gave you a couple days off, so he's not expecting you until next week. And I still don't know how badly you're hurt yet, I've only had time to look at your head. And let me tell you, that by itself is hurt enough. You have a major concussion, you understand me. Your pupils are so different, they look like they belong to two people. And last time I checked, feeling the light was so bright it hurt, counts as light sensitivity. You are laying here, at least until I patch up your head, SO DON"T MOVE."
Jack's inner mind responded to the order immediately, and he fell back onto the bed while mumbling something about basic training. Sara grinned triumphantly.
"Okay, NOW I'm going to help you sit up. SLOWLY! Then I can get to work on the back of your head." He nodded once in agreement, and moved to sit up. His neck flared with pain again, as the muscles stopped working, and his head fell backward. He winced, and she caught his head. Holding his neck, she used the rest of her arm to help push him forward. Once he was able to stay balanced and sitting, she checked his head.
The gash was big now, but having put pressure on it for so long, it wasn't really bleeding anymore. Just kind of... oozing. She opened up the medical kit, and spread the contents out on the remainder of the bed. Picking up a large gauze pad she moved to get up. Jack had been watching her and held up a hand.
"Don't use that."
"What? The gash is to small for a band aid, Jack. I'm gonna need to use this."
"How big is the cut?"
"Um... I don't know... maybe 4 inches."
"Okay. Did you grab my bag?" She looked around for the small brown side bag he always carried with him. She remembered seeing it last night, but couldn't remember if she had picked it up. She walked around to the other side of the bed, and spotted it, half hidden by the falling comforter. Picking it up, she handed it to him. He seemed all right as long as he didn't have to move his neck, and she suspected he had a bit of whiplash to go with the concussion. He was digging through it, and finally pulled out a small kit. He handed it to her, and closed his bag.
"Okay, look through that for a small ziplock bag." His voice had regained some strength, but he closed his eyes as he spoke, not able to completely ignore the headache for long. She found what he wanted, and handed it to him.
"Now, look for a small brown bottle, and a white tube." She found those and took them out as well. He had opened up the ziplock bag and taken out a few of the contents.
"These are called butterfly sutures. You're going to need to use them to close the cut." She just stared at him.
"I don't know how to do that." What was he a paramedic in another life?
"That's okay, it's easy. I'll talk you through it. This is hydrogen peroxide, we need to use this now. It'll prevent infection."
"Well, at least I know what that is." She took a cotton ball from her kit, and swabbed out most of the cut. She was as gentle as she could be, but he didn't move, even when she accidentally hurt him. She could hear him draw a deep breath, then exhale slowly, but he stayed as still as a statue.
"Okay, now what?"
" The tube has antiseptic, just put that on then the sutures. Okay, you need to peel off the sides of the suture. Then you have to put it across the cut, so the sides are pulled together." She did as he said, repeating the process for the other two stitches. By the time she had finished he was breathing heavily, and sweating. She moved around to look him in the eyes.
"I'm sorry, I didn't think it would hurt that much, I-"
"No, No, it's not my head. I think my ribs got bruised a little, that's all. I just need to lay back down for a minute." He leaned back and practically fell into the bed. He wasn't sure if his ribs were just bruised, in fact, he was fairly sure there were a few broken ones, but Sara didn't need to know that. He lay on the bed quietly, trying to catch his breath, failing to notice that Sara had left. He did notice when she entered though, and tried to look more alert than he had been feeling.
"Here Jack, I brought you some ice. How bad is it?" He gave her a small, almost sheepish, grin that turned into a wince as he shifted positions. She had moved to the side of the bed, and was staring at him with a frown. He got the impression that she could see right through him, and knew it hurt more than he was letting on.
"Jack, why don't you let me see. Maybe you got cut in the side and I didn't notice." He shook his head and tried to move away, which caused him to freeze in pain again. She sat herself on the bed and looked him straight in the eyes.
"Okay, I hate to sound like a bunch of bad movie lines, but we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Either way you're in no position to fight, so I win by default. Now let me see!" She moved closer as he reluctantly gave in and lifted up part of his shirt. Sara gasped as she saw the rainbow of colours that made up his abdomen. Most of his stomach was covered in a large purple and black bruise, that disappeared beneath the rest of his shirt and up the right side of his chest. She looked up at his face to find him watching her intently. Noting the determined look in his eyes, she sighed. There was no way he was going to see a doctor, and it didn't matter how badly he hurt.
"Hurts a little bit, huh, she chided as she handed over the ice. He gave her a wry grin, and sank further into the pillow. Sara sat on the edge of the bed as Jack tried to get in a more comfortable position. He moved slowly, wincing every now and then. Even in pain, she noticed his eyes were closing as he moved. She had guessed he would be tired, but he'd lasted longer than she initially expected. However, she got the feeling that he didn't want her to see him so weak, and was trying to act as though he was feeling fine. She decided to give him some peace, and quickly made her excuses.
"Did you want anything to eat. I reheated some soup a while ago...?"
He nodded, "That would be okay, I guess. I haven't eaten in a while." He gave her a small smile and she left the room.
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He sighed with relief as she left the room. His ribs were screaming at him, they definitely did not appreciate sitting up for so long. His head was pounding and he closed his eyes.
He remembered the fight. The three guys that had attacked them were in much worse shape than he was, and he smiled to himself. Three on one had almost made it even. But not quite.
Jack winced as he shifted positions again. He needed to find a comfortable position, so he wouldn't move his ribs while he rested. If he had learned anything from the last time he had broken a rib, it was that he could do a lot more damage to himself while sleeping then while conscious. Once more, he was thankful that Sara had left the room, and a grimace spread across his face as he twisted slightly. He allowed a small gasp to escape, and froze, in reflex. Breathing deeply, and gritting his teeth, he moved the rest of the way, finally lying down. Jack felt his eyes closing, and realized he was actually exhausted. Trying to fight his tiredness, he looked around the room. He had gotten to the finger painting on the wall, when he lost miserably, and sleep took over.
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Outside the room, Sara watched, half hidden by the doorway. She flinched as he froze in pain, watching as he slowly twisted. She was sorry he was hurt, and wanted to help him desperately. 'After all, I mean, technically, he saved my life, why shouldn't I want to help him?' She continued staring as he gasped, a sure sign he was in more pain then he had originally stated. Sara didn't understand why he wouldn't go to a doctor. Hey, maybe he was one of those people that hated doctors. But, still, he was badly injured. And what about that whole collapse-in-the-alley thing. She had almost forgotten about that. Something was wrong, she knew that much. She didn't think Jack was outright lying to her, but he was definitely holding something back. It was understood that people had baggage, and maybe he didn't want to share, but there was the way he spoke, the way he acted. The way he fought. It still troubled her, but she knew he had fought to protect her, so that was something. He emitted a confidence that drew her in, he made her feel safe. Then again, she'd been fooled before. Sara sighed to herself and turned from the door, she just didn't know if she could trust him.
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Sara heated the soup and walked back to her room. Jack had rolled over so she couldn't see his face, and she moved to the other side of the bed. He was already asleep. She chuckled to herself, and felt a smile creep across her face. He always looked so...so...tense when he was awake. Now, he appeared relaxed, almost content. Almost. She put the soup down on a cleared patch of the bedside table, and sat down in the chair next to the foot of the bed. Suddenly, something was wrong, and she watched as Jack's features turned to panic. He twitched, and moaned slightly. He was dreaming, and she had a feeling it wasn't about hugs and puppies. Jack moaned again, mumbling, and tried to roll over. She lept up and grabbed his shoulders, preventing him from moving further. Slowly, he settled down, and she released him. She watched for another few minutes, before he started twitching again. Anticipating another attempt to move, she grabbed his shoulder. Once more, he slowly calmed down. She stayed by his side for almost an hour, watching. Slowly, she began to recognize when he started dreaming, and settled into a routine. She would reach over and lay a hand across his shoulder, and he would settle back into a peaceful slumber. At first, she didn't understand, then it dawned on her. Maybe, he just needed someone to be there.
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Jack woke up once more to mild confusion as he tried to place his surroundings. After a few seconds he remembered, and calmed himself. He was alone, and from what he could gather, it was midafternoon. He tried to look out the window, but it was to high. He groaned slightly, and tried to swing his feet around. He was still in the same clothes he had been wearing the night before, and hadn't even been under any blankets. Jack was stronger, not by much, but definitely less tired. The bed creaked as he moved, and his feet finally made it over the edge. Jack looked around, realizing he needed to leave. He'd already practically invaded Sara's life and house, and he didn't want to be anymore of an inconvenience. He moved to try and get up, when a floor board creaked behind him. He tried to twist around, mildly succeeding, and he stared in mild shock. The young boy looked back, matching his stare.
The boy looked about 12, and was a little skinny for his age. He was wearing an old t-shirt that had seen better days, and had a few scratches on his arms. Looking closely, Jack noticed a fading bruise on the side of his face. The boy was looking him dead in the eyes, and hadn't even blinked. Jack cleared his throat.
"Hey"
"Hey" The boy tilted his head and continued staring at him. Jack almost laughed at how much he reminded him of Tony.
"My name is Jack," he paused "You are...?"
"Carlos." The boy stepped forward, with his hand out, and they shook. Jack was surprised by the grip Carlos had and nodded. Carlos moved back to the other side of the room, and continued watching him.
"So-"
"Why are you in my house?" Jack's eyebrows shot up, 'Right...direct, straight to the point.'
"Well, actually, I was just leaving-"
"No you're not." It was a statement, and Jack tilted his head to the side.
"Yes, I am. I didn't mean to be here this long anyway-"
"Mama, said you weren't supposed to leave." Jack was really getting tired of being cut off. 'Wait a minute, Mama?'
"Sara's your mother?"
Carlos nodded, "Yep"
"Oh. How old are you anyway?"
"Eleven. How old are you?"
"37"
Carlos continued to simply stare at him.
"You saved my mother, didn't you?" Jack ducked his head, and looked away.
"No... no. I just...uh...got in a fight-"
"She told me you saved her life."
"Well, actually, that's an overstatement..." Jack was really uncomfortable now. He hadn't saved her life or anything, just, stopped her from getting hurt.
"Are you saying Mama's a liar?"
"No, no. Of course not!"
"Well then, you saved her life." 'Okay, good job Jack. You were just outsmarted by a kid. You practically ran into that one.' He looked down once more, as an awkward silence spread over the room.
"Well, if you saved my mother, you're okay by me." Carlos moved across the room and slumped into the chair by the bed.
"Thanks...I think. But, look, really, I have to go now..."
"No, you're not supposed to leave."
"Why not?" Jack was rather indignant now, and it was beginning to show.
"Because Mama said so."
"Right, and I guess you do everything you're told to." Jack mumbled under his breath.
Carlos just tilted his head, and gave a flippant grin.
"Not always, but Mama told me to tell you this. 'If you misbehave, she'll do more than just repeat bad movie lines.' She said you'd know what she meant.
Jack gave a small grin, and nodded.
"Anyway, I'm supposed to offer you...", Carlos paused as he tried to remember, "...food, water, and a shower if you feel like it."
"Well, thank you, but I really need to get going. I-"
"Mama said if you still tried to leave I was supposed to poke you in the ribs."
"Oh, well then." Jack sighed, as he resigned himself to his fate. Assassins, terrorists, gangsters, and thugs, he could handle. But being poked by a child brought him down. Great.
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A/N: Thanks for reading. Hope everyone had a great holiday. And (well for everyone in the U.S. and such, I don't know about Europe,) it's about to get a lot better. I'm practically counting the minutes until Season 5 premieres. Literally. I've already apologized to everyone I know in advance because I'm going to get so annoying. Everytime I see a commercial, I practically explode. Anywho, hope everyone enjoyed, should have another chapter done soon.