It's not the first time Jackie has stayed in Laurie Forman's room.
When the Formans had caught her staying with Steven in the basement after her mother had abandoned her, she had spent that night in the older Forman sibling's room. She remembered scowling as she laid down in the other woman's bed, thinking about how many times Michael had probably cheated on her in it, and wishing Red and Kitty would have just let her stay with Steven in his cot.
But now she couldn't even bring herself to set foot in the basement she had grown to love over the past years, let alone sleep in it without Steven there, so the room where her heart had once been stomped on was preferable to the place where she once felt at home and safe.
The thought made her want to puke, or maybe that was the tiny being growing inside of her. She had a hard time telling the symptoms of pregnancy and the physical ramifications of grief apart lately.
"Not now, please" she groaned, laying a hand on her still perfectly toned stomach, willing it to settle. Laurie's room, which she guessed was now her own, and Eric's room were connected by a shared bathroom. She wasn't thrilled about sharing a bathroom with the scrawny boy for several reasons, one of them being that if she were to throw up in the middle of night it would surely wake him up. (Jackie figured that he might also be lying awake, unable to sleep like her, as well, but she still didn't like the idea of anyone hearing her puke, especially Eric.)
Besides, she'd have to come up with an excuse for why she was sick if she did wake him up, considering he had no idea why she was staying with his family in the first place.
His parents had both fed him some flimsy excuse about Fez and Jackie needing space from each other to grieve, but Jackie knew that a guy with a wit as quick as Eric's had to have seen through it.
Still, he didn't question her, burn her, or even put up a fight. Eric hated her, and her moving in with him had to be his worst nightmare. But he didn't say anything or react in the slightest. He just let it happen, and quietly helped her move her stuff into his sister's room.
Not that she enjoyed Eric insulting her (though she did frequently enjoy insulting him), but it was unnerving to see him so passive over what should have infuriated him. He was grieving, shattered, and torn as they all were, and as much as they had had their endless differences, it still hurt her to see such a hollowed out version of her frenemy.
Sighing, she realized that perhaps their only common grown was their love of the boy who they had lost.
This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This is all just a bad dream, she thought to herself, knowing she was just trying to fool herself but desperately wishing that for just one short moment that she could believe it.
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that Steven had made it home safely that night. That he had called Eric or Fez or even herself for a ride home. Sure, she would have been pissed off that he just took off and gotten himself hammered after she told him that she was pregnant, but she would have gotten over it eventually. It was certainly preferable to him crashing himself into a fucking tree and leaving her and their kid behind to fend for themselves.
Steven wasn't the only one of their dumbass friends who had ever driven drunk, but he was the only one who had paid the price for it. God, they all thought they were invincible, and were constantly making risky decisions, and up until now, no one had ever really gotten hurt. There were nights they drove drunk or stoned, falls from the water tower, a near deportation on Fez's end, and never-ending assumptions that no matter what they did, they somehow would all end up okay.
Until Steven had died, the most trouble any of them had ever gotten themselves into was Betsy's conception, and Michael had grown into a fine father with time.
But now Steven was gone, and there were no take backs, no do overs, no course corrections. He was just gone. Forever.
No amount of begging, screaming, or pretending could ever bring him back.
Her stomach churned and she rushed into her and Eric's shared bathroom just in time to be sick.
She cried as she heaved, wanting it to just be over with. Her sickness was just another reminder that she was having a dead man's baby, and that the love of her life was gone.
"Jackie? You okay in there?"
"Go away."
"Uh, I can't. The bathroom is connected to my room, too, remember?"
She wanted to tell him to just go downstairs and leave her alone until she was finished in there, but she was cut off by the need to retch once more.
"Oh god, eww. Okay, uh, do you need me to go get my mom or something?"
"No," she managed to choke out, "I'm fine."
She expected a snappy come back about how she didn't sound fine, or if she was actually fine she wouldn't be keeping him awake with the sound of her vomiting, but instead there was silence. Maybe he had gotten the cue to go watch tv in the living room or otherwise keep himself busy until she felt okay enough to try and sleep, or maybe he had left because he was squeamish. Either way, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was already miserable, and dealing with Eric wasn't going to help.
A few seconds later, though, she realized that he hadn't left. She heard him sigh and mumble something unintelligible to himself, and then she heard the door opening behind her.
She was too busy puking to tell him to go away, so when she felt him gently tugging on her hair that she had been halfway holding out of her face herself, she reluctantly let go and let him hold it back for her. Besides, if he wasn't going to leave her alone, he might as well make himself useful.
"Why are you in here?" she moaned when she had half a second to breathe.
"Well, I figured if I have to be awake at 3 am listening to my new roommate being violently sick, I should probably at least go and make sure she's alright."
"I'm fine," she said, trying to sound forceful and failing. She was tired and weak and just sounded pathetic.
"Yep, and that's definitely why you're throwing up in our bathroom in the middle of the night."
Ah, there's the smart mouthed Eric I know and begrudgingly tolerate.
"Why won't it stop?" she panted.
"Maybe because you're the devil?"
"If you're going to be a jerk then just get out."
"Sorry," he said quietly, tentatively patting her back with the hand that wasn't holding her hair, "I'm just so used to burning you. But you're not having a good time right now, so I guess I could be a little nice."
"Whatever," she mumbled, before bursting into tears again, because even that word reminded her of Steven.
"Hey, don't cry, okay? I'm sorry."
She thought about telling him that it wasn't him that made her cry, it was just that she couldn't stop thinking about their dead friend, but her and Eric didn't talk about heavy stuff or their feelings together, so she just shrugged in another Steven-esque response and then wiped at her eyes.
After a few moments of near unbearably awkward silence, she relaxed a little and pulled back from the toilet.
"All done?"
"Think so," she replied softly, leaning against the bathroom wall and closing her eyes. God, she was exhuasted.
She heard the toilet flush, and then reluctantly opened her eyes at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder.
"Jackie, what brought that on? Are you sure you don't need me to go get my mom?"
"No, let her sleep. It's probably just a stomach bug," she lied.
"Ah. That means I'll probably be sick within the next day or two, so thanks for that, devil."
"You're welcome," she said bitterly, knowing that Eric didn't have anything to worry about.
"Well, since you've already disrupted my slumber, can I get you anything?"
She sighed and looked up at Eric who was crouched down in front of her. From the looks of the bags under his eyes, he hadn't actually been sleeping, but she wasn't in the mood to call him out on it. He looked at her expectantly, and then she remembered that he had asked her a question. She hated to ask people for help. Ordering people around? She loved that. But letting people give her a hand when she was vulnerable, not so much. But her head was spinning ever so slightly and she was thirsty and Eric had already sat with her while she was puking that night, so what was the harm in asking for a little more help?
"Water?"
"You got it, devil. I'll be right back."
She heard Eric hopping down the stairs, presumably to get a glass, and had to will herself to keep her eyes open. She was dangerously close to falling asleep on the bathroom floor with Eric came back and filled up the glass with water at the sink.
"Here ya go."
"Thank you."
"You're thanking me? You must be sick," he joked, but it was devoid of the edge it should have had. She knew that Eric was absolutely broken inside from Steven's death and wouldn't be himself for a long time, but she hated to see him so reserved. Hell, he was being gentle with her. With HER. Jackie Burkheart. Two weeks ago if she was sick he probably would have just laughed at her. (And then probably would've gotten Fez or Donna to check on her because despite his animosity toward her he was a much better person than her, but he still would have laughed first.)
"Shut up," she whispered, taking a hesitant sip from her glass. She was parched, but didn't want to get sick again. Especially not with Eric still in the room.
"Feel any better?" he asked awkwardly, and she could tell he was just trying to make conversation. She was surprised that he was still sitting with her, let alone trying to talk to her.
She supposed that if he couldn't sleep either, taking care of a sick girl, even one that he hated, was preferable to staring at the ceiling, mind reeling with grief. If he was dealing with the same miserable, heart wrenching insomnia she was, she could understand wanting a distraction, even an unpleasant one.
At least looking after her gave him something to think about other than the gaping absence in his life.
"Yeah," she said honestly, her stomach having calmed down for the most part.
She continued drinking her water as her and Eric settled back into silence. Despite her better judgment, she let her droopy eyelids close and was just about to drift off to sleep when-
"Jackie, you can't sleep here."
"Don't tell me what to do," she mumbled sleepily, keeping her eyes close.
"Jackie," he said wearily, and she could practically hear him rolling his eyes, "your bed is like twenty feet away. Come on, I'll help you up."
"Fine," she said as if she was doing Eric a huge favor, and put her hands in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
She got a little dizzy for a second upon standing, and her slight swaying did not go unnoticed by Eric.
"You okay?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her.
"I'm great," she grumbled sarcastically, earning a halfhearted laugh from her roommate.
"Come on," Eric said, gently pushing her toward her new bedroom.
She sat down on her bed, feeling awkward about settling down and lying in it in front of Eric. What was he going to do, tuck her in and turn out the light?
"Goodnight, Eric. Thanks for saving my hair," she said, cueing him to leave.
"You're welcome. I had nothing better to do. Goodnight, Jackie."
He turned to leave the room, and stopped just short of the door.
"If you need anything come get me, okay?"
It seemed as if it pained him to offer her his help, but he still seemed sincere. It was weird, but it didn't shock her. Eric was a nice enough guy to offer assistance to people whose presence he didn't exactly enjoy, albeit reluctantly.
And maybe, in a way, he was trying to do right by Steven by looking out for her.
"I will," she said, not sure if she meant it.
"Okay. Goodnight, devil. Try not to wake me up again with your puking."
"I'll try not to," she rolled her eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief when she heard the door click shut. It was nice of Eric to sit with her in the bathroom, but being nice to each other still didn't feel right. She had no idea how to act around him since he had gotten back from Africa, and especially not since…
Their world had been torn apart.
They were never really friends. Why start now?
Besides, he probably just felt bad, and like he said, he had nothing better to do.
Her eyes welled up with tears once more. Even with all the misery he had put her through in the past year, Steven was probably the one true human connection that she had left. She loved Mr. and Mrs. Forman, but they were old. They weren't exactly going to be her best friends in the way that Donna was before she left for college. And while Fez was forgiving of her cheating on him, she didn't know if their friendship would ever fully be able to bounce back from their brief, doomed foray into romance.
Michael was in Chicago with Brooke and Betsy, her dad was in jail, and her mother really didn't care about her all that much.
And Steven, well, he was gone.
She had never felt more alone in her life.