I lay in my bed in my apartment, feeling my stomach churn again. The Malkavian blood I had drank had not set well with me, mostly from all the drugs Grout had been injecting into them. I heard a knocking on the door downstairs, but didn't move. Heather could get it. All was quiet for a moment, then the door to my bedroom creaked open. I pushed myself to roll over and saw Jack, standing in my door.
"Ya look like shit," he muttered, crossly. I didn't understand what would have him angry, but I was too sick to worry about it.
"I feel like shit," I said.
"Have you fed?" he asked, walking into the room and sitting on the bed.
"A couple blood bags," I said. "But I haven't felt like hunting."
"I kinda figured," he said, lifting up a bag I hadn't noticed. "So I brought ya these." From inside the bag, he pulled out a half dozen blood bags. He picked up one and held it out to me.
"This one's a Ph.D," he said, grinning. I laughed weakly and brought the bag to my lips, draining it. It made me feel better, though the drugs in my body still had me woozy. Jack urged me to drink another two bags before I pushed them away, nausea rearing its ugly head. Jack remained at my side, waiting to see if I could stomach some more blood.
"Jack," I asked.
"Yeah?" came his reply.
"Did you ever have kids?" I questioned. He stroked his beard, thoughtfully.
"You mean biological children? Yeah, I'm sure I did," he said. "I saw a few girls in my time and protection was a word saved for fightin'."
"You never settled down?" I asked. He chuckled.
"My life wasn't really about settling down, kid," he told me. "You want to know if I ever raised kids?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Some o' the younger kids hung around me, but I never changed diapers," he said.
"You would have been a good dad," I sighed. He snorted.
"No I wouldn't," he said. "I wasn't a nice man in life and I had a foul temper that got me in some serious trouble. I would have spent more time on the run or locked up than with my kids."
"Did you ever sire any childer?" I asked. Jack peered at me suspiciously.
"What's the sudden fascination with my life, eh?" he asked.
"Just curious," I replied with a slight shrug. "Maybe I want a bed time story."
"I could tell ya much more interestin' stories than ones about my life," he grumbled. I only looked at him expectantly.
"I've sired quite a few Kindred in my time," he said.
"Have they all survived?" I inquired.
"No," he said, bluntly. "Many are dead. I still have one living in London, but the other's…they're mostly scattered."
"Is that normal?" I asked.
"Sure," he said. "After ya learn all ya can from your sire, ya go do your own thing."
We were quiet for a long moment.
"I hate LaCroix," I said suddenly.
"I know," Jack said. "But, kid, you do what you have to for now." Tears sprang to my eyes.
"He makes me sick," I spat.
"That's why your helpin' us," he said, patting my arm.
"I wish I could run away," I grumbled. Jack's hand tightened on my arm slightly.
"If ya do that, LaCroix would hunt you down," he said, seriously. "There wouldn't be anythin' me, or Nines or anyone could do to protect ya."
"I know," I sighed.
"Stomach it for now," he said. "In a few nights, it'll all be over." I wasn't sure how Jack knew this, but I was soothed by it. I closed my eyes, allowing sleep to take me. Before I dropped off, I felt Jack push my hair back from my face and tap my cheek with his thumb. I was almost sure I felt the gentle brush of his lips on my temple, but I didn't think Jack was the kissing type.
"Sleep well, kid."