I think I've tortured you guys long enough…
Broken Part III
Waking up was even harder than usual.
Jack in a bed that was empty save for himself – and wasn't large enough for two anyway. And the room didn't smell like flowers. The only greenery was the aloe vera plant. It didn't need much water, so it survived his long absences – and unintentional neglect. Plus, it was pokey enough that no one gave him a hard time for keeping a plant. (Especially since it worked better for burns than anything even the GUARDIAN scientists could cook up in their labs.)
All in all, the first thing he was aware of as he came back to consciousness was that Rapunzel wasn't there. That didn't exactly give him encouragement to wake up.
He waited for consciousness to fully take control of his mind. But his thoughts remained fuzzy.
The headache he had taken Advil for the night before had returned with a vengeance. Only now it was accompanied by an ache that seemed to have settled comfortably in his entire body. Even his bones felt brittle and weak as he rolled over.
Great.
The stress had weakened his immune system.
Whatever he had caught didn't feel overly serious. But he had still caught something, and it was hitting him hard. (According to Rapunzel, he was an absolute baby when he was sick.)
Logically, he knew the gym was the last place he should go at that moment. If he insisted on going anywhere, it should be to the med lab.
But he took another Advil or two, got dressed, and went down to the gym.
Merida and Eret were both there already. Some people haunted the cafeteria, or the garages. No. Those two haunted the gym. It seemed as if they were there every time Jack went in. Or they showed up while he was there.
It was a part of why he forced himself to go down. Because he did not want to hear whatever Merida would have to say if a cold kept him from his workout.
Her greeting did not help anything.
"Yoo look awful."
"You're too kind," Jack muttered.
In contrast, Merida was pretty much back to her usual, obnoxious self. Her hands had stopped shaking after the third day of therapy, and her voice had regained its usual volume – several notches above what preschool teachers call "indoor voices".
Secretly, Jack was relieved. On the jet back to the base after the fight, he had watched Merida tremble, her out-of-focus gaze locked on the floor of the jet as she rubbed her left hand. She hadn't even resisted when Eret pulled her into a hug. As Jack had watched Eret rock her, whispering, he had wondered if Pitch had managed to break her.
When he had been a child, long before he had started down this path, his mother had had a clear glass statue of an angel that sat on the end table next to the couch. He didn't remember the story, only that it had been special. And, of course, he had knocked it over. Probably because he had been running in the house, when he knew he wasn't supposed to.
Amazingly, the glass hadn't shattered.
A jagged hairline crack had appeared, running up most of the statues side. Jack remembered picking it much later, turning the cool glass over and over in his hands. What had fascinated him was the depth of the crack, which went through almost the whole thing. He had stared at the jagged shape of it, which reminded him of lightning.
Looking at Merida, he had remembered that statue for the first time in years. Because she wasn't broken – but Pitch had created a deep, jagged crack.
The night his parents died, when he had been told, he had reached for the nearest breakable object, and thrown it at the wall.
That time, the statue had shattered. Chunks of glass had rained down on the wooden floor, and it had been satisfying, because it looked the way he felt inside.
The crack never could had been fixed. But Merida seemed to be, if not fully healed, then well on her way.
If Jack were willing to actually talk to Ombric…
No. He was not going to tell Ombric about Rapunzel.
Pitch was right. Jack had given Rapunzel every part of himself. Every piece of his bruised heart, and his battered soul, he had placed in her hands. And she had healed what she could, chased away the darkest shadows, and poured her love on what little was left. She kept him in the backpocket of her favorite cut off jeans.
"Of course, you were never much to begin with."
Everything came back to her. Because she was his everything.
If Ombric got him to open up, with any hope of actually getting anywhere, Jack would have to explain that she was the reason his heart kept beating, and his lungs kept pumping oxygen.
Which was exactly why he refused to bring her up.
Going over to one of the punching bags, Jack braced himself to go through at least a few drills. The practical part of his mind did some quick calculations, and announced that he did not have the energy for more than a few punches. But he refused to turn around and leave while Merida was there.
He would never hear the end of it.
He threw a few experimental punches at the black bag, warming up.
Why do you hate yourself so much? His body asked.
"Always so mouthy. Trying so hard to convince the world you're good enough." Pitch's words echoed in his mind. "But we both know you never will be."
Jaw clenched, Jack threw a right hook that sent the bag swinging.
"You never will be."
Left hook.
He tried to hit hard enough to drive the words out of his head.
Right. Left. A roundhouse kick with his right leg.
His body swayed as fatigue washed over him.
Kozmotis Pitchiner had never exactly overflowed with praise. It wasn't his style. He had been far quicker to point out where Jack needed to improve. But he had always let Jack now when he had done well. Had assured him he had potential, and that all his hard work wasn't a waste.
Pitchiner was gone. Jack had accepted that at the same moment the knife had sunk into his stomach. Anything Jack had admired about the man, or any part of Pitchiner that had cared about Jack, was dead.
But hearing the words, in Pitchiner's voice, still hurt.
It was exactly what Ombric wanted him to talk about. But, of course, it lead back to Rapunzel. The only reason he had survived that first fight with Black was because he had promised to come back to her.
Of course, she hadn't expected that he would come back only so they could both run away.
Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if he hadn't gone back to her that time. Any time before that – but especially that one. If he had looked at his life, realized what a walking catastrophe he was, and realized that her life would be better without him. She would still have had a chance at a normal life.
But, no. He had been too weak to stay away. So he had gone back, and when she had insisted on coming with him, he had accepted it.
"Hey." Eret came up behind the punching bag, bracing it with his hands. He spoke quietly, so no one else in the gym – especially Merida – could hear. "You're not going to do her any good if you kill yourself.
"Like I do her any good now," Jack muttered, throwing another punch.
Eret didn't even seem to feel the blod.
"Don't," he said, still quiet. "I don't know what you're thinking, but you're driving yourself insane."
"Isn't that why they've got me in therapy?"
"You got all of us out alive." Jack knew that, to Eret, "all of us" wasn't as important as "Merida."
He wasn't sure what Eret saw in Merida. But he knew exactly what it was like to take a single person and make them his top priority.
It sucked.
No matter how much you loved that person. No matter how much you would gladly, and willingly, give up and do for that person… it still wasn't to know that you weren't your own anymore.
Honestly, though, he was pretty sure he had it easier. Rapunzel wasn't anywhere near as reckless as Merida. And while he wished he could be home to take care of her (wasn't that his job as her husband?), at least he didn't have to worry about her on the field.
Yeah. He didn't know how Eret did it.
Merida was trying not to be obvious about the fact she was trying to eavesdrop. But she was not subtle. Not even in her wildest dreams.
Hence why Eret was whispering.
"I may not know your girl, but I can bet she wants you to come home."
"You know I try not to say this. But please come home."
Jack nodded.
"We both knew the way to keep a woman happy is to make sure she gets what she wants."
Jack smirked, the expression weak, but there. Rapunzel might not be half as demanding as Merida, but it was still true.
Eret clapped him on the shoulder. "Get some rest. Getting sick won't get you home any faster."
Technically, Jack outranked Eret… but he accepted the order with a nod.
As soon as he reached his room, he collapsed back into bed. He didn't even have time to be afraid of sleep, for fear he would end up back in the labyrinth. Exhaustion hit him mercifully quick, and hard.
The next thing he knew, he was waking up to the sound of his phone going off – six hours later.
He rubbed his face as he rolled over.
More sleep would do him more good than another therapy session… But his refusal to talk was already pushing it. If he didn't show up, someone who out ranked him would have something to say.
Another hour in Ombric's office was better than a lecture of any length.
#
"You don't look well."
"I don't feel well," Jack admitted, slumping in the armchair. For the first time in almost three years, he felt cold. He wore his leather jacket over a long sleeved black shirt, but it wasn't doing much good. Since he didn't have a thermometer, and had no intention of going to the med lab, he couldn't check his temperature. But his fever was going up, he knew that much.
Ombric looked at him for several long moments, considering. "Perhaps—"
"No." Jack shook his head. The word came out weak, and the movement made him dizzy.
"I'm beginning to think you don't want to be cleared for active duty."
In the back of his mind, that actually didn't seem like too bad an idea…
"Why else would you refuse to talk, when the stress is obviously eating you alive?"
Jack had bowed his head, closing his eyes to try and still the world that spun around him. He took several deep, steadying breath.
Part of him wanted to answer that question. To find some way to explain, without actually explaining.
"Do you have a secret?" Jack asked, not lifting his head. "Not a dangerous one, just something you don't want anyone else to know, because it's none of their business?"
Tense silence stretched for several heartbeats, but Jack was too tired to care. He didn't think Ombric would answer, since it was a personal question. (He would laugh at the irony, if he wasn't working so hard on making sure every part of his body did what it was supposed to do.)
"Yes."
Jack nodded. Carefully, to ensure it didn't send the world spinning like a top.
"Me, too," he said. "The thing is… Everything I am revolves around my secret. It's the sun at the center of my universe." He chuckled, but stopped short when that didn't go over with his body very well. "Sh—It is the sun. I need it. It's the only reason I'm alive, but it's also the most dangerous thing in my life."
"That doesn't sound like a harmless secret."
If Jack said "it's my wife", or even just "it's a woman", Ombric would understand. As it was, he couldn't imagine what the doctor might think he was talking about.
As it was, since he didn't want to say either of those things, he chose to ignore Ombric's comment.
"Everything aspect of me comes back to that one thing," he went on. "If I started to tell you about what happened between Pitch and me, or why I make half the decisions I do, I would have to tell you why my heart beats. And no offense, but I don't want to do that."
"Then how do you expect to recover from this?" Ombric asked. "You're falling apart at the seams."
"Because right now my heart is somewhere else. I need to get back to it more than I need to tell you how I feel." That was dangerously close to the truth. All this talk about hearts, it wouldn't be hard for Ombric to put the pieces together.
Before Ombric could say anything else (thought Jack knew something had to be coming), there was a knock on the door.
Jack lifted his head as the doctor went over to answer the door.
"Ah, Ombric."
His head had started to drift back down, but it jerked up at the sound of North's voice. It brought on another wave of dizziness.
"Is Jack here?" North asked.
"Come in," Ombric said, holding the door open. "Perhaps you can help me get through to him."
The big Russian came in, and Jack saw the concern in the man's eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," North said, coming to sit in a third armchair.
"He refuses to talk," Ombric said. "Or, rather, he refuses to tell me anything important. This is our fifth session, and he was just explaining to me why he can't tell me anything."
Jack met North's blue eyes.
#
He was falling.
Again.
He didn't need to see his surroundings to know he was once more in the labyrinth.
He landed on a walkway, and sighed in relief to have something solid beneath him. But before he could refill his lungs, he was falling again. His traitorous mind was showing no mercy tonight.
"You really are pathetic, Jackson." Pitch's voice rang out, echoing off the stone walls. "Your heart, your hope… you've given it all to her. Haven't you ever heard about not putting all your eggs in one basket?"
"I only have one heart," Jack muttered. He was on one of the walkways, but he stepped carefully, expecting it to fail at any moment.
"Most people aren't stupid enough to give themselves so completely," Pitch said. "Even the most love sick idiot knows better than that. Not you, apparently."
"Yeah, well, maybe the divorce rate in America would be lower if people did," Jack said.
It actually got a dark chuckle out of Pitch. He and Pitchiner had always had the same dark sense of humor. Jack's was a little lighter. But it was part of why they had gotten along so well.
"Well, you may have a point," Pitch said. "You should have been smarter, though. Most people aren't so fragile."
It wasn't an insult. It was his mind acknowledging what he already knew: he was cracked. Rapunzel kept him sane, kept him together… but she couldn't fix the cracks. It was why it was so dangerous for him to love her. Because even sharing the weight with her, it might break both of them.
"I had such high hopes for you, too."
Pitch talking again. Not his brain processing through Pitch's mouth.
Now that Jack had stopped expecting the fall, the walkway vanished.
He always forgot that rule.
"Such a disappointment."
"Wanna say that to my face?"
Pitch laughed.
"Why? I don't have to do anything to you. I just have to sit back, and watch."
Another walkway. And Pitch stood in front of him.
"And I'm a patient man, Jack."
He felt a feint touch on his temple. In his unconscious state, it was strange – there, but not there.
"Jack."
His name didn't shatter the dream – it dissolved it. Like sunlight dissolving the darkness.
Rapunzel's fingers combed through his hair, a soothing, repetitive motion, bringing him back to consciousness.
His eyes opened as she kissed his forehead.
Night had fallen outside, and the light of their bedroom was off. The purple organza canopy around the bed was drawn, but the translucent fabric let in the moonlight that poured through the windows.
The smell of flowers washed over him. The smell changed a little all the time, as she brought in different varieties. But the floral scent was still one he associated with safety.
"It's okay," Rapunzel whispered. "I'm right here."
His heart clenched in his chest at the sound of her voice.
"What time is it?" he asked, rolling over to face her.
"I don't know," she said, still stroking his hair as she met his eyes in the darkness. "About three, probably."
Jack nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath.
As soon as he had gotten him, Rapunzel had sent him upstairs to rest. He hadn't complained, and he had once more passed out as soon as he had changed and climbed under the light blue sheets.
"Your fever is going down," she said, pressing her hand to his forehead.
"Don't tell North," he muttered.
"He said we have three weeks," she said. "I'm not giving you back before then.
Jack chuckled dryly, and didn't resist when she pulling him into her arms. Normally, he was the one holding her. But right now, he was too tired and broken for his male pride to chafe at being held. Honestly, it felt good.
"Just rest," she whispered, still stroking his hair. "Anything else can wait."
Before long, he was asleep again.
This time, thankfully, without dreams.