Her body had tremored since Jack had laid her down on his couch. Forehead sticky with sweat, her eyes were still tightly shut, but her could swear she may be awake. He almost wishes she was awake so that he doesn't have to watch her writhe on his tattered couch.
Slowly, he slinks over to her, apologizing profusely in his mind as he stares down at her trying to figure out where her wallet is. Usually he'd feel no remorse in taking a wallet, even one of an inebriated person, but this seems different. This time she actually matters, and no matter his intention, if she was to wake up, irreparable damage could be done.
Lightly tapping her pockets and cursing the situation, he finds nothing, but the purse halfway underneath her is a saving grace. Ever so carefully he pulls it out from under her. She only mumbles in protest for a moment before falling back into sleep.
It's old, the inside lined with various holes. The first Jack can find in the ratty thing is a bag of some kind of pills. Almost instantly he walks to the bathroom, dumping the contents into the toilet with disgust.
He searches more, keeping his eyes on the girl whose long blonde locks splay across his couch When he finds the wallet, his hands search instantly, feeling around to find any source of identification for the girl.
Her license finally comes free, and her name blares up at him like a stream of light he can't resist.
Felicity Trina the picture on her license is a much more wholesome person. Her cheeks have color, and she has no sense of wild about her. She looks beautiful, more so than now without a doubt.
There are a few pictures of her in the faded pocket of the brown wallet, the progression is easy to see. Through the pictures, her cheeks grown then, and her skin as ashy as grey dust.
Instead of taking her money, Jack's hand automatically reaches to take the picture where she looks happiest.
As he turns the picture in his hand, letters catch his eye. Spelled out on the back of the picture is his name in the most beautifully intricate handwriting.
"What are you doing with that?" a voice breaks his spell, and flustered he drops her purse to the floor. Some of the contents splay out across the worn shag carpeting.
"Are you stealing from me?" anger is laced with her words when the boy in front of her neglects to respond.
"No, I swear, I was just looking for an ID, that's all." He stutters out, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
She ignores him, grabbing the purse and searching frantically for something she obviously does not have.
"You took them?" her words are harsh, and she glares daggers into his soul when he refuses to respond.
"The pills?" Jack shuffles on his feet, watching her with deep apprehension.
"Yes." She states, deadpanning at him, her dark eyes flaring.
"I flushed them." He states lamely, looking away from her like that could make her less threatening.
"You fucking moron." She grits out, chucking her purse, the closest thing she can reach straight at his head.
"Hey, watch it." Jack ducks, moving again when a tube of lipstick is flung next. Taking a step towards her to stop her, she cowers.
Like a repeat of the previous night, Felicity has her hands covering her head, whispering apologies over and over. Still just as unsure of what to do, Jack steps back, trying his hardest to assure her that he won't hurt her.
"Sleep." He tries, snapping his fingers. She freezes, and for a moment he belives it may have worked, but when her head turns and her gaze on him is completely incredulous, he knows he has failed.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she questions, a stark contrast from the cowering girl of just moments ago.
"You can't take them anymore. Daniel said that in order for us to work together, you have to be sober." Jack has never felt more under a microscope than he does under her scrutinizing stare.
"Who is Daniel? Did Nathan put you up to this." He doesn't miss her eyes clouding over, or the involuntary way her body folds in on herself. She's afraid.
"No, I don't know a Nathan, and the horsemen, Daniel, you almost killed him last night?" he asks, but she doesn't remember a moment of how she got to his house, it's evident all over her face.
"I know Nathan put you up to this, just don't tell him. I'll do anything, just please don't tell him I'm here." She pleads, her eyes stormy as she stares at the man in front of her, studying him like he's the most intricated thing she's ever seen.
"Calm down, I don't know Nathan, and from the sound of it, I don't want to. You're a part of something bigger now. Don't worry about him." Jack clears his throat, taking a step towards the trembling girl.
"You swear it?" She asks finally, her eyes glancing over at him before returning to the floor.
"I swear it. I'll protect you, we all will." He decides, giving her a small grin.
"I, I need those pills." She states.
"You can't have them anymore."
There's a long pause between the two of them, and for a moment Jack thinks she may lose it on him again, but instead she nods slowly.
"Withdrawal," she pauses, her shaking hands wringing with each other.
"The mentalist can probably fix that." Jack comforts, still standing as awkwardly as he can in front of her.
"Mentalist?" her voice wavers with uncertainty, and she steps back to her bag, reaching for a small cell phone tucked in a pocket.
"Yeah, like mind control." He tries to explain, trailing off as he heads towards the kitchen "I don't really have much in here, but we can go get breakfast before we have to meet the others. I could make coffee too."
She pads silently behind him, staring at her phone with a pale face. He notices, but says nothing, unsure of what to do to comfort this perfect stranger. Instead, he just goes about making a pot off coffee, knowing that he may need one more than her.
"Where exactly are we going?" she finally asks as the pours her a cup.
"There's this old apartment, uh, I guess we work there or whatever now. I hear the payout is going to be good, and it's a steal from the rich thing."
"Oh." She whispers, sipping at the coffee. It honestly isn't the best cup she's ever had, nor the worst, but it's coffee none the less.
"So what do you do anyways, sleight of hand, illusionist, mentalist?" he asks, grinning over at her with a glint in his eye.
"I don't know what any of those are, and I have no clue what you're talking about." She frowns.
"Huh, I wonder what they chose you for." He shrugs his shoulders, motioning for her to follow him.
Placing her cup on the counter, she turns to follow him, yesterday's dress clinging to her much too skiny frame.
"You can borrow these for now." Jack stands in the doorway of a messy room a lump of clothing in his arms.
"Thank you." Her voice is distant, but she takes the clothes none the less.
Following his point towards the bathroom, Jack finds himself outside the door, letting out a deep breath before pulling out his deck of cards and flipping them around in his hands, shuffling them in ways far more advanced than anyone he knows.
"How do you do that?" a small voice breaks him from his thoughts mid shuffle, and a few cards escape. They flutter to the floor noiselessly, and Jack makes no move to get them.
"It's easier than it looks, I can show you sometime." He offers, taking a look at Felicity now that she's cleaned up.
The heavy makeup has been washed from her face, and her hair is pulled out of her face. The clothes hang on her, but it should do.
"Okay, I meant to ask you, how did I get invited to join this little club?" she asks, cocking her head to the side as she watches the boy in front of her carefully.
There's not much else to do but accept the offer. Going back to Nathan is worse than taking a leap of faith and trusting a complete stranger. She's always been compulsive, no matter how it was beaten out of her. Still it guides her, and in this moment she can't resist.
"I don't know. We each got tarot cards from someone. I have yours here." He pauses to dig in his pocket.
The two tarot cards seem to be one as he pulls them free from the mess of objects in his back pocket. Honestly the pocket could go on forever.
"The Moon." He hands her the card, smiling as she turns it in her hands carefully.
"And you?" she asks, locking eyes with him.
"Death." A smirk spreads across his face.
She rolls her eyes, grabbing her stomach as a particularly loud growl nearly shakes her.
"About that food." She nervously smiles.
"Yeah, let's go. Atlas will have our asses if we aren't there on time. I don't know who put him in charge." Jack grins, grabbing a ring of keys off the counter.
He doesn't miss the way she looks down at the old silver cell in her right hand like someone could pop out of it and kill her, but again he says nothing. With a sickly look, she drops the phone to the floor, putting on what he assumes is a brave face, and following him out the door.
He watches her silently as she walks ahead of him on the just brightening city streets. All around owners are opening up shop, the city just barely coming alive. She's sickly, that much is for sure, but she's shrouded in mystery.
She steps out of the shadow of a building, turning to look back at him, and his mind flies over every reason she's with him. Every reason that his name was on the back of her picture, and he draws a blank. Another shadow encompasses her ahead of him, playing off her pale skin, and he knows that whatever she does, whatever she is, will be extraordinary.