He gives a smile but half is in disgust. “Yea. My stomach didn’t like the vacation.” Jack was very much concerned about his own well being. He’d have to have some sort of check up at some point. “Hoping I didn’t get anything from where ever I’ve been.” Perhaps it was a good thing he didn’t remember it.
Thinking about his stomach made him realize he was hungry. He hadn’t had anything since breakfast days ago. And even then, none of it stayed in his stomach. “Want to get something to eat?” he asks. “I’m half starved.” He tried not letting the shoes ruin his appetite. Jack had a spare pair, but they weren’t his running shoes.
The mere thought of food is enough to cause her stomach to growl, and rather loudly at that. A deep shade of red tints her face, embarrassed by her own hunger. “I think my body says yes.” Her words tumble out awkwardly, coupled with a forced chuckle. A tremendous weight had been lifted off her shoulders, and her clouded mind had began to clear.
Fran stands now, smoothing out her skirt, and swaying slightly under the weight of her own body. She was weak; her thinning frame had been stressed over the past several days. She is shy under his gaze, momentarily wishing that he wasn’t looking at her. How she had been feeling had been a tremendous overreaction, wasn’t it? How silly she was feeling now. Jack was here, with her, and he was... her friend. They were friends. “Lunch sounds terrific right now.”
The summer humidity had coolly lingered into town, bringing along the threat of desert thunderstorms and power outages. All battles had been cancelled until further notice, as the risk of another respawn shutdown was just too great. The administration had apparently gotten into some hot water for that once, considering they were taking the time to care for their employees this time around.
It was a miserable heat, leaving the mercenaries with a lack of energy, and a surplus of free time. The first several days had been marvelous! Time off in an air conditioned tropical paradise? This had been like a dream come true. Fran would have never dreamed she would have wound up anywhere close to this. That all came crashing down when a shuddering crash had been heard outside. The air conditioning unit, responsible for the entirety of the base, had apparently overheated. Administration was contacted, and said that someone would be out to repair it tomorrow. The hours to come would bring nothing but swampy misery.
Francine had spent most of her New York summers like this, but had grown accustomed to the cool air return right below her bed. Jack, on the other hand, couldn’t stand how damn humid it was. He even considered taking that dumb boat just to get away from it, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so.
So they spent the day afternoon pressed to the floor, sprawled out on the hardwoods in some hope of keeping just a bit cooler. They spent time talking, punctuated by bouts of silence where the energy had just simply left the room. Their relationship was a relatively new, and somewhat awkward happening. Sure, they’d been friends for quite some time, but this was a whole new experience. Neither of them were quite sure what to do about it yet.
As the sun began to set over the water, the temperature began to drop. A silent relief filled the air, knowing they could at least stand to be near each other now. It had simply been too humid earlier for any type of contact. Jack watched as Fran crawled her way across the floor to sit between his legs. He sat leaned against the dresser, and now found himself trapped in her embrace. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around her. “Guess you’re feeling better?” Fran nodded, replying with a contented sigh as she settled into him. He ducks his head down to kiss her shoulder, her neck, and behind her ear. Knowing that low, satisfied moan she would give, he kept his head leaned against her’s. Nothing like a good tease. “You’re the worst.” She commented, he simply nodded in reply before closing his eyes.
The silence was suddenly interrupted by the electrical whir of a lack of power. Fran lifted her head, surprised by the sudden darkness filling the room. “Guess the heat finally got to the power grid.” Jack said, now reaching up to scratch his head. It would be a lie if he said he had been surprised. It had been well into the hundreds before the sun had set. “Well, what do you want to do?” Fran asked, now leaning back to study his features in the darkness. “It’s too early for bed.” That was a good question. Before he could reply, she gasped, obviously having a eureka moment.
“Please, Jack.” She whispered, half lidded eyes with that devious smile. “Let’s go skinny dipping.”
Did expect him to actually get in the water? He looked back at her, almost dumbfounded that she would even suggest that. Not wanting to disappoint her, he gave a defeated sigh. There was absolutely no way he was going to get in that water, but if she wanted to, he certainly couldn’t stop her. Even being anywhere remotely near that beach made him shudder. It was just so damn hot, he could understand why she’d want to jump in. So he inhales sharply, making his final decision. This was going to be a tough one. “I’m not going in.”
Her eyes lit up; he could see her excitement even in the lack of light. There was absolutely no going back at this point, especially if she was this excited. “Let’s go!” She was already halfway out the door before he even stood up. Luckily, he remembered to grab a towel for her, and a blanket for him to sit uncomfortably on. She fished backwards to find his hand, allowing her to more efficiently drag him along.
Jack followed her along the beach, unsure exactly where she was planning to jump in at. She lead him to the pier that housed the air boat, which, surprisingly, was absent at the current time. He gave her a quizzical look, eyebrows knit together as to question her judgement. “No one can see from here.” She said, gesturing to the geography around them. He followed her hand, taking note that she was right. The only way someone could take a peek was through the barbed wire fence surrounding the battlefield. She was almost positive no one would be there.
“Well, if this is the place…” Jack shrugged, laying the blanket down about three fourths down across the wooden planks of the pier. He took his place as she shed her shoes and began to walk towards the pier. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d never actually seen her… naked before this. Embarrassment crept into his throat and onto his face, presenting him with a bright red blush that he was glad she couldn’t see. He watched her walk with rapt attention, now taking in the curves of her body as she began to remove her clothes. The way her shirt slipped over her slender, yet toned, shoulders, and the way her shorts were simply tossed aside almost made him want to join her.
Nimble fingers quickly unclasped and abandoned the bra that he suddenly craved to see her lacking. Sure, he’d thought about her body under that silky purple nightgown often, but actually seeing it? This was something that’d he’d merely dreamed of. Too distracted by her silhouette in the distant moonlight, his face was met by a pair of balled black lace, and he was assaulted by a large splash.”Hey!” He exclaimed, only to be met with the sound of her giggles echoing over the lake as she came up from the deep.
“The water is great.” Fran remarked, now floating on her back. “Thanks for coming down with me.” He craned his neck to get a better look, all the while trying to be conspicuous. It was terribly difficult to be ignore the uncomfortable tightness in his pants now plaguing him. How could he even hide that when she came back up here? In his panic, he can only stutter a reply. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, really not a problem.”
The ocean breeze swept across the lake and onto the pier, a loud silence sitting between them as she enjoyed the warm water. Jack kept trying to look past her, and out to the ocean in an attempt to kill his issue, but simply could not stop his eyes from wandering right back to her. He takes in every curve of her body silhouetted by the full moon; he traced those long legs with his gaze over and over again. How badly he wanted to grip her hips, throw her legs over his shoulder and just…
“Ah, shit!” His train of thought is interrupted by her exclamation, snapping him out of his perfect daydream. “Are you okay?” He asks, watching her jump back up onto the pier. “I kicked a piece of trash or something and it got me pretty good.” Fran replies, now inspecting the bottom of her foot. Small droplets of blood rolled from the gash and into the water, making no difference in the already dark tide. Jack grabbed the towel and awkwardly approached, wrapping it around her shoulders. He peeked over her shoulder and down to her foot, which he reacts to with a wince. It looked like it had hurt. Still, that tightness lingered. “Come on, we should get back to the room.” Fran rolled her eyes and nodded, seemingly aggravated by her own injuries.
He helped her up and gathered her clothes in the blanket, slipped her shoes onto her feet, and wrapped her arm around his shoulder for support. Still, he buzzed with the thought of her body below him as they walked back and she chattered at him.
“Let’s get you fixed up.” Jack said quietly, unlocking the door and helping her to the bed. The power hadn’t yet come back on; they stumbled through the room haphazardly.
”You think i’ll lose my foot?” Her tone is joking, but something told him there was a small tinge of seriousness underlying.
“Unless you got bit by a radioactive catfish, I don't think so.”
He abandoned the bundle of blanket and clothes by the door, his first priority to help her, and to shake this train of thought. God, even after that, he couldn’t get rid of that picture of her in his mind. Was he some kind of sicko? He left her on the bed to retrieve the small first aid kit he kept under his sink. He returns to her and kneels down, carefully inspecting the wound in front of him. “Is it bad?” Fran asked, wrapped tightly in the towel he’d placed over her. He gave a deep sigh and looked up to her. “Well, I’m afraid it’s terminal.”
A giggle escapes her as she reached down to playfully pat the side of his face. “Well I got the best doctor, so I expect to live. Otherwise, I want my money back.” He smiled, wiping the bottom of her foot with a peroxide wipe. “We’ll see how it goes.” Before he knew it, the wound was wrapped and taken care of. He sat below her, kneeling between crossed legs in the darkness. Her perfume clung to his skin like sweat as he considered how beautiful she looked with all those wet, dark curls. Why didn’t she let it dry like that more often?
He sat before her momentarily before she spoke quietly. “Come here.” Puzzled by her demand, he replies with a confused grunt. She repeated herself, her voice lower and warmer this time. “I said, come here.” She searches for his hands, to pull him closer, and to guide them to her the edge of her knotted towel. “What are you--?” His question is stifled as she leans down to kiss him; a flood of anxiety and eagerness rushed to his face, tingeing it a deep red. Sure, he was experienced, but… Fran was so much different than the other women he’d had in the past few years. She meant something. She meant everything, actually.
Her kiss is unlike anything he’d felt from her; it is eager yet soft, a passionate yearning that they’d come close to several times. She breaks the kiss to slide his shirt off and toss it aside, only to desperately pull him back. This was it. With a reluctant tug, the towel fell around her hips and onto the bed. Her hands pulled him up and on top of her, back slightly arched against the cool linen. Jack separates her legs with his knee, to which she replies with a small whimper. For a moment, he cups her face to hold the kiss, but his hands are eager to explore the soft curves of her body.
It is apparent that he isn’t the only eager one, as her hands fumble with the clasp on his belt. Were they shaking? He reaches down to help her, breaking the kiss momentarily. A smirk comes to his face as he slides his pants off. “I’m sorry.” Fran whimpers, quiet tone breathy and filled with embarrassment. He replies with a small kiss before moving down to kiss along her jaw and down her neck. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Fran.” He whispers, her first quiet moan slipping out from between her lips. He’d been thinking about this for God knows how long. “And you’re mine.” He needed a reminder sometimes. It was almost too good to be true.
Fran shivered beneath him, fingers curled into his shoulder blades. He slips his hands over her ass, taking in the beautiful curves that he’d so often admired. Was it as freckled as the rest of her body? God almighty, he could only hope so. His hands slid between her thighs, parting them ever so slightly. His breathing hitches, obviously pleased with the wetness waiting for him. A firm grip is kept on her ass as the other slipped between her legs, taking the time to keep it slow. She lets out a soft gasp in response, back arching against him slightly. He pauses at her reaction, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Anxiety once again crept into his throat.
“Good?”
“Bien.”
A familiar word, considering he’d heard it in Spanish before. Definitely a good word. He gives a nod and kisses her again before kissing down her neck. She lets out a breathy moan as he kisses her pulse point, which only continued to get louder. Someone was certainly enjoying themselves, and Jack took note. Perhaps he was just too good at this. A shudder rolled through her body as he pulled his fingers away, dragging them across the sensitivity linger in her inner thigh.
His heart was pounding, and she could feel it as he pressed his body to her own. Her own hand reaches down to shove his boxers down, to grip him. Electricity shot down his spine as she did so. It had been awhile since someone had made him feel this way.
“I want you inside of me.” Fran growls, guiding him closer to her.
Jack nearly shudders at her words, her voice low and warm against his ear. He pulls back to look at her, breathing already shallow from the heat. The way she bit her bottom lip always drove him absolutely crazy, and he’d make sure that she’d know that. “I need to be.” He replies, his voice is hoarse with urgency. He eagerly repositions her under him, tossing one of her legs over his shoulder, and the other one under his arm. He keeps a firm grip on her ass, pausing briefly to make sure she is comfortable. She nods, freckled face flushed.
He pushed into her desperately, grip tight around her hips. She brings her hand up to stifle her initial whimper, suddenly feeling more embarrassed and vulnerable than she had during this entire time. It had been years since she’d been with someone, and she was sure she wanted Jack to be that next person. He reaches down to brush the hair out of her face before they continued. The gesture is small, but passionate, and comforting.
“Are you--?”
“Harder, s’il vous plait.”
Good lord. Had she just spoken French to him? Sure, he always thought it was sexy, but now? Jack stares at her for a moment, taking a moment to look down at the position that she was in. Once again he runs his hands down her body as she squirms under him, any slight movement causing her to whimper. She meant everything to him. “Say that again.”
“Harder, s’il vous plait, Jack.”
He just had to obey her commands.
His thrusts were deep and needy, as if he’d been considering this for far too long. Her desperate moans echoes between the walls, followed by his shallow grunts. Sensation rained through her; every touch, every thrust, every gasp, was something she’d felt only a handful of times before. His grasp on her sends electricity through her spine and into the back of her throat, projected through her pleading gasps and splintered french sentences, barely intelligible through her loud moans. And Jack loved every goddamn second of it.
Suddenly, he dropped her leg from his shoulder and wrapped it around his waist, allowing him to bring his mouth down to stifle her moans momentarily. Her hand wraps around the back of his neck, desperate to cling onto something. He wanted to learn every reaction; what made her gasp, what made her cry out, what made her whisper his name. He pulls away from the kiss to graze her neck, teeth bared to nibble at pulse point. Francine gasped, fingernails dug into the flesh on his back and the midst of his shoulder blades, as her head fell back and her body tightened below him.
“Jack!”
That was it. He couldn’t contain himself any longer. Especially not when she screamed his name like that, as if she were begging for him. He rests his forehead against his neck and lets out a low moan, hand gripping her ass almost tight enough to bruise. He had gotten lost in the moment, unable to stop himself from spilling into her.
“Oh god, Fran…” He sighed, as they both laid still for a moment. Jack raised his head off of her neck to look up at her, who had raised up her head to meet his gaze. She brushed the hair, now out of place from their rendezvous, back into it’s rightful place with a smile. His kiss only makes her giggle, nose wrinkled up as she returns it. “Was it good?” He asks, once again resting his head in the crook of her neck. “The absolute worst.” She replies, combing her finger through his messy hair.
Jack takes a moment to lay there before pulling away from to lay beside her, only to playfully grab her and position her on his chest.
“I guess we don’t have to do it again, then.”
Fran looks up to him, even through the darkness he could see that smugness plastered across her face. “Mm, or we could just keep going until it’s good.”
He shrugged, leaning down to kiss her again. “Well, If you insist.”
Jack was glad to hear that Allen had been on his best behavior. He could really be a piece of shit sometimes. “That’s good to hear,” he replies. “I’d have to punch him in the mouth otherwise.” He wouldn’t. He didn’t think he could ever hurt his brother on purpose. Not without a good reason, like running out on him or messing with someone he cared for.
He gives a small laugh. “So I’m told,” he replies. Vinny would kick his ass later for disappearing for days. Hopefully, the old man wasn’t dead. He really didn’t want to talk to ‘her’.
He again feels guilty for having put her through duress. He shakes his head in an answer for her. “No,” he replies but tries to see if he could remember anything. “I remember thinking seeing my brother. With the quartermaster. Then I was in the respawn.” He looks at his shoes and grimaces.
“Which reminds me.” He kicks them off. He supposes that him turning his stomach inside out was a dead giveaway something had happened. But he had been to angry about the spy and worried that his brother had been on the base to think much about it. “I need new shoes.”
Fran cocks any eyebrow at his response. Why was that? Was that jealousy she heard? A pang of melancholy sits with her at the thought. He probably just meant that in a platonic way. “I wouldn’t want to start any trouble.” He was a handsome man, though. Certainly not as handsome as Jack, but absolutely attractive. She scans his face, taking in his features. Definitely someone she didn’t mind looking at every day.
What was she thinking? She tries to shake the thought.
She nods, turning to look at him now. “I’m just… really glad that you’re good.” They share a moment of eye contact before she turned away again. The overwhelming urge to move closer was unbearable, and terribly awkward for her. Jack had already been through a lot. No need to pile more shit on top of that. “It was lonely here.” Fran mumbles, trying to play it off.
Momentarily brought back into a normal state of mind, she grimaces when the scent of his shoes hits her. “Merde!” It was enough to make her gag, but she refrains. “God, did that happen you respawned? Are you okay?” when After all, she had been the one emptying her own stomach contents only twenty something hours ago. Probably not good on her already wasting frame. It would do her some good to actually eat some real food.
Jack fought every bit to stand up and leave. He really wanted to speak to his brother. And it wasn’t just about the gift. But he stays with Fran. It only felt like he had seen her this morning. He had disappeared on her. Much like Allen had did to him. He was going to stay with her for now. If anthing, he could have Vinny track him down again.
He listens to the start of Fran’s story, and smiles. He was glad that they had met each other. It probably could have been on better terms. "He didn’t… Try anything, did he?“ Jack asks. Knowing Allen, he might have tried something. Jack would kick his brother’s shins if he tried anything.
Jack gives a sheepish smile at her request. "I can’t promise that,” he replies and motions to the hotel in general. "Kinda my job. Not to die, of course.“ He goes quiet before he gets himself into trouble.
"So hows everything going? Didn’t seem like much was going on on the battlefield,” he says trying to change the subject.
Tried anything with her? She wrinkles her nose up at the thought; to have his brother’s hands upon her disgusts her. Their interactions had been kurt and uncomfortable, a quiet funeral for a man too quick for his own good. “Nah.” Fran gives a sheepish smile, keeping her gaze upon him. “We just ate breakfast together.” Then he ran. Surely, no one wanted anything to do with the human equivalent of a graveyard she seemed to be. Her collection of bones seemed to grow with each and every acquaintance she made; it was surprising that she didn’t rattle when she walked.
For a moment her eyes wander to her hands curled into her lap. Bandages clung to several her fingers, suffocating the memories of the past several days. Their scars left behind certainly would not be the first of their kind, left behind in a spasm of grief. They certainly wouldn’t be the last. She looks back at him, and shakes her head, that smile lingering. “You’re a real smart ass.”
A momentary silence settles between them. She almost laughs at the question, but lets out a scoff instead. An ironic question, in her opinion. “They shut everything down. Everything when to shit.” Fran shrugs, now looking away. “I haven’t had the greatest past few days.” Her tone struggles to maintain a light mood, and comes off as forced. Once again, she awkward rests her hand on the crook of her neck. “Do you remember anything?”
Jack stands at the dresser, unable to figure out what to say next about the turn of events that left him with only the journal Fran gave him in possessions. Instead, he lets out a groan.
Jack turns around to looks at her when she mentions his brother’s name. “Who?” he asks, making sure he heard her right. Had Jack seen him? Was he here when he died? Did she talk to him? Did he say where he was going? Was he okay? All the questions piled up behind Jack’s lips and all he can get out is “I missed him?”
If Allen had her gift, then Jack was certain that he wasn’t going to get the gift for her back. It had been a lot of effort and time to get him here in the first place. If Allen thought he was dead…
Jack walks over the the bed and sits down on it. He looks at Fran, and attempts to give her a smile. “I’m sorry.” he says. Jack reaches out to take her hand but stops. Instead, he clasps his own hands together. “One hell of a new year.”
“Your brother?” She replies, hand now sliding down to rest upon her shoulder. Their interactions had been terribly awkward; both of them had reeked of booze and despair while they ate cafeteria grade food in silence. He had provided an eerily comforting familiarity in Jack’s absence, despite having just met him. There had been certain things about him that had just reminded Fran of her best friend. Jack probably didn’t think they were all that similar. “He was heading back into town when I talked to him.”
He stank like a bar and wasn’t particularly nice to him. She had slapped him upon their first meeting, and perhaps she hadn’t made the best impression. “We uh--” It wasn’t something she had been particularly concerned about. It was not something she outwardly would mention if he asked. “It was nice meetin’ him.”
Her gaze follows him carefully, as to make sure he wouldn’t disappear again. A small smile comes to her face as he takes the place beside her. The urge to lean against him washes over her, but she refrains. Where did that come from? “Just don’t go dying on me again. Hot embarrassment stings her cheeks as she the words tumble out between her braces. “Who the fuck was I supposed to protect in battle?”
Jack is left surprised at the gift he was given from Fran. It was unexpected, really. He hadn’t expected something so personal. It almost made his own seem less then it was.
“Its…” He couldn’t find the right words on how much he appreciated the gift. The thought that had been put into it to get it. “I love it.” He puts his hand over the cover of the journal. This was one of his most precious items now.
Jack was unsure if his own gift for her was still in its place. He walks over to his dresser and opens the top drawer.
It was empty.
“I did have a gift,” he says, sad and angry at the fact that he couldn’t give it to her now. “But it a lot of my stuff is gone.” All of it it seemed. Jack didn’t quite get the chance to look around but Jack was convinced that spy could really pull a prank. Or, at least, he hoped it was the spy.
Dead for days. That was one hell of a set up if it was that spy.
Fran bites back a smile, watching his reaction. How bittersweet it was, having this moment. A sense of relief washed over her, knowing that he would actually use it. It really had cost her a pretty penny. “I’m glad.” The gentle desert breeze flowed through the cracked window, tickling the back of her neck. Allen must have forgotten about it before he left. Her hand rests there now, feeling the tangles of hair now lingering.
An empty feeling washes over her, reliving the past several days in their moments of silence. The room had been stripped bare, leaving no trace the man that she had became so familiar with. His bed had become a coffin, and her body upon it the flowers resting above it. Knowing that it had all just been a misunderstanding left her feeling… hollow.
She perks up when he speaks, hanging on his every word. Disappointment creeps into her throat, but she holds back. “Oh.” She replies, looking around. “I guess Allen must have taken it when he cleared your room all out.” Her english still wasn’t all that great.
A small smile forms on Jack’s face as she hugs him. Perhaps it had been because he was dead for however long it was. Perhaps it was because he doesn’t remember being dead. The hug she gave felt wonderful, and he gives her one in return. It felt so different then the one he got that morning…
Days ago.
The smile disappears and Jack hugs her tighter. “I’m sorry,” he says again. He hadn’t meant to make her so upset. That was not at all what he wanted to give her today, or when ever that morning happened. “Making you feel like shit wasn’t the gift I wanted to give you.” Jack’s momentarily curious if the gift was still in the drawer or if who ever took his things took that too.
He’d worry about it later.
Jack smiles again at her apology. “I’m glad, too,” he says. Glad that he was here. Glad that he was still alive. Glad that she was here, too.
His embrace is warm and welcoming, almost as if they’d known each other for years. His mere presence brought her a comfort that she hadn’t known in years. One that she wasn’t quite sure that she was ready for; she keeps his arms around her for the moment. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, and regulates her breathing against his skin. His scent has not changed, almost as if he hadn’t done battle at all. Had he even broken a sweat before his death? Most likely not.
She sniffles now, feeling much more reassured. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” Fran always seemed to be in the end. It was just so reassuring that this was real. Jack was right here with her, with arms wrapped around her. He was safe. She was safe. Everything was alright. How overwhelming and strange this feeling was. Happy? Sad? She wasn’t quite sure. However, at the mention of a gift, she suddenly remembers his.
She lingers in the embrace momentarily, hands clinging to the back of his shirt. “Speaking of gifts…” Slowly, she pulled back, and reached for her back. Her hands fumble with the clasp, still shaking from previous events. The leather notebook had remained untouched; it was still handbound and leather, with his initials monogrammed into the bottom right corner. She hands it to him, words seemingly escaping her. “Merry Christmas, Jack.”
Jack doesn’t say anything. Dead? Days? He would have thought it was a poor joke, but the tears in her eyes convinced him other wise. “I didn’t… I’m right here?”
He feels like he wanted to sit down. “I’m alive,” he replies. He looks at Fran who’s distress was making his own worse. He was alive, wasn’t he? He clenches his hand, before giving Fran’s hand a hard squeeze. “I’m alive,” he repeats. “I’m here.”
That was what mattered, right? He was here. With Fran. Breathing. He could feel the heart beat in his chest. He was alive, now. He was alive with Fran. But it had been his fault she was upset as she was. He had made her cry. “I’m sorry.”
The repetition is something she absolutely needs to hear. She squeezes back, before pulling him up to embrace him. The only time she had ever hugged him had been several days before, just a few moments short of Jack’s death. Fran had thought two weeks without him had been strange, but just a few days thinking he was dead had gutted her. There was a whole nother level of emotions that this had brought on, and quite frankly, she wasn’t quite sure how to deal with them. At the moment, all she knew was that she didn’t want to let him go.
Her body had shuddered with sobs over the past several days, and just when she thought it was over, it began again. How terribly confusing this all was. She felt vulnerable and angry with herself, but blissfully relieved, and overwhelmingly overjoyed. This was a completely new bundle of emotions for her. For nearly ten minutes, she stays wrapped around him, before pulling back to look at him. Why had he apologized? It hadn’t been his fault. “Quelle?” She asks, mind running rampant in her native tongue. Sometimes, she didn’t quite make the switch.
Once again, she wipes her smudged makeup from her cheeks. Francine was beginning to calm down. “I’m sorry-- I’m just…” Terribly overwhelmed because I think you mean too much to me? Feeling like I’ve let you come too close? Unsure how to progress with or without you? “Glad that you’re here. Glad you’re okay.”
He gives a small smile at the comment she makes. “Of course I’m alive,” he replies. What else would he be?
Jack tries his best to keep Fran from pulling him off the floor. “You don’t have to feel like that now,” he says. “A little bit of rest will make you feel better.” Perhaps a little food, too. Jack should have had some left overs from his breakfast in his room. He had planned on saving it for lunch, but with the short work day, he wouldn’t complain having to spend it with Fran.
Jack opens the door to his room, but with Fran holding him like she was, he finds it difficult. “This would be a lot easier if you, you know. Let me open the door,” he says humorously. He meant it as a joke.
When he steps inside, he discovers his room nearly barren. He keeps holding Fran but is unsure what to do. The first thought was that it was that spy playing tricks again. He frowns, ready to give that spy a right kick to his ass. But he had to take care of Fran first. Then he’d take care of him.
Her head was spinning by the time he sat her down on the bed. Francine had lost people previously, but only once had she experienced anything like this. Losing Jack had brought her back in time several years, standing in the childhood home of her lover. Her hands curled around the edges of the laundry basket, to take in the scent of the clean linens. The knock on the door is unexpected, to which his mother responds. Bette was a simple woman, who she enjoyed immensely. Ward was just like her.
The laundry tumbled to the floor, staring at the two uniformed men at the doorstep. In that moment, her world came crashing down. The dull ache she had been carrying in her chest was reminiscent of that feeling; losing Jack had been like losing her lover. Their relationship had always been platonic, friendly words exchanged in close quarters. She doubted that it would ever be any more than that. Fran was unsure if she even wanted that again.
Once again, she looks at him. This time, the tears come. She reaches out to cup his face, and respond to his previous comment. “You were gone for days.” How humiliating it was to feel so vulnerable in front of him. BECAUSE of him. Why did he matter so much? They’d known each other only a few months. “I watched you die and never respawn.” Her voice trembles as she speaks, through quiet sniffles and tears wiped on wrists.
The look she gives Jack surprises him. It was like she seen a ghost. He lets out a small chuckle, and grabs her hands. “Everything ok?” he asks. It definitely made him worry about her with how she was reacting. “You really didn’t fall into the fountain, did you?” That was definitely not something anyone would look forward to.
His smile fades a small bit, worried about Fran. He’s never seen her like this and for her to be so different then how she was that morning, definitely made him worrisome. “Are you ok?” He hoped that she had gotten herself looked at, too. He takes her arm. “Come on, lets go lie down.”
All thoughts about finding his brother disappeared as he focuses his attention to Fran. If she was sick, either from falling into the pool or otherwise, he wanted to help her feel better. Although Jack was sure she just looked a bit hungover. But there was no way she could be that way within a few hours.
“You’re alive.” A small sentence is all she could manage, gripping his hands tightly. She stumbles slightly as he guides her, dazed by the whole situation. How was any of this remotely possible? Time and time again, she had heard rumors of people disappearing in respawn. They had all ended the same, and Jack would most likely be no different. With each passing day, she had accepted his fate just a little bit more; with each passing day, she had began to lose reasons to stay here.
She lets him guide her back up the stairs, and through the hallways that she had spent the past several days aimlessly wandering. She had convinced herself that if she’d walked around enough times, she would begin to feel better. Francine finds herself leaning against him for support, body struggling to catch up with her racing mind. “I-- I’m sorry I’m just…” What was the word she was even looking for? There were too many emotions to even account for. “Overwhelmed.” Perhaps that was a good word for it.
Her hands once again grip him as he struggled to open his door, not wanting to let go. She just didn’t want him to go anywhere again. She couldn’t bare to be alone anymore.
When Jack arrives at the office, he finds it surprisingly empty. He calls out again but is still met with nothing. He still feels a bit uneasy, since he hasn’t really come across anyone yet. He had to have missed something.
He walks up to the door of the quartermaster and gives a knock. “Anyone home?” he says. Jack puts his ear to the door and doesn’t hear anything moving inside.
Jack leaves the office, not knowing when they’d be back and heads back to his room. There’s a small thought of wondering where Cade had taken him, if he took him back to the mainland or made him swim. Jack just kind of hoped that they just took him to the mainland.
Jack sees one or two people in passing, calming some of his uneasiness. Nothing seemed too different, or at least seemed broken to pull everyone off the battlefield.
He makes it to the stairs, and he sees Fran. He gives a small smile in confusion, as she was wearing a different set of clothes then she had been wearing before. She also looked a lot rougher. Like she didn’t get a good night sleep. “Fall into the fountain again?” he says jokingly.
Jack still had that gift to give Fran. He’d have to give it to her since they now have some down time.
With her head down, and arms crossed, Fran drug her feet against the sand covered pavement. It was odd having no one to converse with. It had really become part of her daily routine to consult Jack on day-to-day affairs, no matter how small. Even if just a small conversation, they had talked daily. She didn’t have the energy to think much about it, considering that she’d lost all the food and water she’d eaten in the past day to brandy.
Her mind had gotten lost somewhere along the path, scattered among the sand and cracked concrete. There had really been nobody to run into, as many of the employees had taken this opportunity to get as far away as this place as possible. The thought had not even crossed Francine’s mind. She had been too wrapped up in her own grief to consider going home at the time. Now that she thought about it, going AWOL didn’t sound so bad. They couldn’t really arrest her for that, could they? She didn’t know. Maybe they wouldn’t…
Suddenly, a voice above her startles her. Her heart climbed into her throat, as if it were trying to escape the very body that had sheltered it. It takes a moment to process the familiarity of it. She looks up, suddenly lifting her sunglasses to get a better look. No, this wasn’t possible. Was it? Everyone had said that it took months for this to happen, if it had happened at all. Jack was standing here, in front of her, like nothing had even happened.
Perhaps this was just another dream.
His words fall upon deaf ears as she reaches out and touches his face, wide-eyed. He was definitely real. No hangover hallucination, induced by some vile form of grief that had snuck into her brain due to lack of water.
Perhaps if she’d had something to eat, or even something to drink, within the past forty-eight hours, she wouldn’t have fainted. There was a first time for everything! Like fainting, coming back from the dead, and even meeting older brothers. What a strange week it had been.
Jack threw up as soon as his feet hit the ground. There was no warning so he spit all over his shoes. He cusses out loud and takes several steps back.
He was going to get that spy to pay for it.
Jack steps out of the respawn, ready to find the spy and kick him with his bile covered shoes. The place was strangely quiet. No gun fire, no yells. It gave off an eerie feeling, and it made Jack immediately uncomfortable. Stepping out into the main area of the battlefield, he finds it empty. Had he missed something? Was there a recall he missed while in respawn? Jack couldn’t think of anything that would cause the administration to pull everyone off the battlefield.
He calls out, “Hello?” before making his way towards his room. He’d come across the spy sooner or later if everyone just so happened to be in respawn at the same time. It’s happened before, and according to some people, it was the funniest thing they saw.
Jack hopes there’s no ‘technicality’ involved in this, if he was leaving in the middle of a fight. He would be pissed if he got fired because of it. Especially before he could meet Allen
Jack stops. Allen. He forgot he’d seen him before being tossed into the respawn. He takes off in the opposite direction of the rooms. He had been walking with Cade which meant he could only be in one of two places the quartermaster liked to spend his time. Experience told Jack that the correct spot was the Administration office.
Expensive brandy did not taste nearly as good the second time around. It hadn’t been the first time Francine had found herself laid on the cool tile of her bathroom floor, it and certainly wouldn’t be the last. Her sorrow had been briefly overshadowed by her pounding head and overwhelming need for water. She couldn’t even brush her damn teeth with the tap water here, and she’d used to last of it several days beforehand doing just that.
What a mess she was, but she had to get it some how. Otherwise, she would end up in the sick bay, with no respawn as a backup. She toys with that idea for a moment, before flickering eyes catch a glimpse of the judgemental cat in the doorway. No point in making the cat suffer because she just couldn’t bare to live with herself anymore. Someone had to take care of the fluffball. She guesses it would have to be her.
Slowly but surely, she peels herself away from the toilet, and rinses her mouth with tap water. A quick look in the mirror returns a grimace. Dark circles and leftover makeup, which she had been apparently too drunk to get all of it off. She scrubs all of this off, only to re-apply an equally as messy, yet less smudged face. To top off that quintessential hungover look, she adjusted her hair with her fingers. No need to brush it, it would only get frizzy. She ties a red bandana into her hair, a makeshift headband, and less than stylish accessory.
Her outfit consists of a short sleeved button up and navy shorts; not to mention a pair of white sunglasses to hide herself from any visible light source. How disappointed her brother’s would have been if they could have seen her. How mercilessly Jack would have made fun of her. With a sigh, she began her trek down to the cafeteria.
She couldn’t help but notice how muggy it was today. Something was different.
Allen lets out a harsh laugh. “Don’t get along like cats and fucking water,” he says. But he didn’t want to talk about her. Not now. Probably not ever again.
“He’s been in bigger scraps then a few bruised toes,” Allen replies. There had been one time Jack had bruised a few ribs falling off a bridge. “He’s just terrible at dancing.”
Allen leans back in his chair, wishing that he had come sooner. He supposes he better get back to packing his brother’s things. It was nice to think about some of the happier memories of Jack. It made all the more bittersweet. “Thanks for the breakfast, Fedora. But I really should be finishing what I had started,” he says.
Allen stands with a groan. He still wasn’t feeling particularly pleased about the what had happened to his brother. Perhaps he’d get a few more drinks after he was finished. At another bar. He still had an outstanding tab from the night before. “Good luck in doing… What ever it is you do,” he says to Fran.
Fran gave a solemn nod, still a bit lost in her own mind. She turns to him, watching him adjust and prepare to leave. For a moment, she considers asking him to stay. He is reminiscent of the ghost at the tips of her fingers; he is not, nor would he ever be Jack. The very thought disgusts her. How pitiful, to be begging for someone’s company. Fran would survive, as she always did. This situation, however, was beginning to challenge how willing she was to continue on with her life.
“It was nice meeting you.” She replied, watching him vanish as quickly as she had come. For several minutes after she left, she pushed around crumbs on an empty plate. She had gotten up and gotten dressed, so she might as well get up and do something. Jack had become her normal, and losing that, was like losing a bit of direction. Although not a romantic partner, he was surely someone she thought about daily. His lack of presence felt surreal.
It took a bit for her to make her way to the lounging quartermaster, but slowly, she had. She asked him to shuttle her across the lake and into town. Begrudgingly, with the aid of a $50 bill, he agreed. How odd it was to have nothing on her mind, like she was on autopilot. It felt as if she’d just teleported into the strip of Las Vegas.
Here she stood, surrounded by people, in the sin capital of the world. The only thing she could consider doing was… well, doing some shopping. She bought a dress, a bottle of expensive brandy, and a new collar for Gillespie. Yet her head still rattled empty. None of these purchases particularly did anything for her, yet she had returned to her room with a handful of bags.
She also returned completely, and utterly wasted, having finished nearly a quarter of that expensive brandy before returning to her room. It had been years since she’d felt this way, but yet again, she lacked the ability to cry. She had nothing left inside of her to get out. All that was left was Francine Lancaster, and a quarter of a bottle of brandy. There was nothing much more to do than to shoddily take of her makeup, struggle to put on something to sleep in, and pass out on top of her bed.
Perhaps she would just sleep until she felt right, or until the middle of the next day. Whenever felt right.
“I’m surprised he survived at all,” Allen replies. Jack’s fear of the water was not something he took lightly. It was definitely Allen found as a frightening time in his life, too. “How Vinny convinced him to come here, I don’t think I’ll ever know.” That was one hell of a silver tongue he had if he convinced Jack. Perhaps he’d ask him before he left.
Jack had been a bit of a book nerd when they were younger. More often then not, Jack had saved his ass from failing right out of school. “But if it weren’t for me, he’d still be stuck on the tit,” he replies, half sarcastic and half bitter. “Some sort of lawyer baby mama’s boy.” Allen cringes at the thought of having a lawyer for a brother. “I’m glad he didn’t listen to her.”
That was something Jack didn’t know how to do. That would have been entertaining to see. Allen never learned because he had two left feet. He opens his mouth in an attempt to convince Fran that she had to teach him but in a rare moment of self control, he doesn’t say it. “I’m sure he put a lot of consideration into it,” he says.
Fran nodded, looking back at the table in front of them. Both of their plates now sat empty, much like how she felt. How terribly dramatic and cliche, staring at an empty plate and relating to it. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d felt this way. “He did. We spent a lot of time together.” She looks back to him at the mention of Vinny. She’d heard the name before, but had never pried into what role he played in Jack’s life. Apparently, Allen knew of him too. How curious.
She wrinkles her nose up at his phrasing. “He said you didn’t get along with her.” She mumbles in response, recalling the conversation. It was not a pleasant image. Would Jack have made a good lawyer? Probably. He was smart like that.
How badly she would have liked to dance with him. She gives a small smile, thinking about it. “He said he was worried about hurting himself.” Which, in hindsight, was a good possibility.
“How boring,” Allen says out loud. But he was still glad that he said something. Even if nothing happened between them. That was Jack though, he thinks. He could be really boring some times. And Allen took it upon himself to not make his brother boring. At least, not too boring.
That was a pretty vague answer, he thinks. Lotsa stuff? He nearly breaks into laughter when she says he cooked for her and starts laughing when she says he tried to teach her chess. “How did you survive all that?” he asks, chuckling. He didn’t meant to offend her, but chess was boring. Allen had more fun playing cribbage and he’d purposely lose so he didn’t have to play. “Smart doesn’t always equal fun, Fergie.”
An overly familiar roll of her eyes signifies distaste in his response. “We got coffee, and he hated the boat ride back.” She mumbles, recalling the embarrassment he seemed to be feeling upon their return to the sandy beaches of Lakeside. They shared a cigarette, and sat in comfortable silence as they considered what fear was. Fran never thought any less of him for that. “I never got bored around him.” Something that was terribly unusual for her. She bored of people quite quickly, and quite often.
Fran gives a small smile, finding his sense of humor all too familiar. “It wasn’t hard!” Spending time with Jack was simply… effortless. It had been a very long time since someone had been eager to spend time with her; how strange it was that she felt the same way. She looks at him, resting her cheek on her palm. “Well, he was a lot smarter than me. He taught me shit every time I saw him.” How valuable his information was usually varied, but she usually almost learned something.
“He said he’d consider letting me teach him how to dance.” She says quietly, that small smile lingering. It was a damn shame they never got to dance together.
Didn’t America fuck off from your country or something? New York ain’t trying to be anything but what it’s always been. Better than London. Or wherever.
It was a sad thought to have. Not knowing where to go. It was a lost, empty feeling. Perhaps after visiting home, he’d go find Daniel and Tanner. It had been awhile since he saw them, too.
Allen smiles when he hears her say that Jack spoke first. “What did he say?” He wasn’t quite sure what to expect beyond a ‘Hi’. Most of the people Jack had knew were people Allen had introduced him too. At least, anyone he knew prior to him leaving.
Allen suddenly felt the absence his brother had left in the past decade. What did he do? Who did he make friends with? Where has he gone? Who’s ass did he kick? Did he get his ass kicked? “What else did Jack do?” he asks.
Fran cannot help but smile to herself, thinking back on the memory. She bites this back, bitterness flooding her mouth. How bittersweet, how little it had meant to her at this point. She breathes in deeply, before exhaling past poorly kept braces. “He… asked me what I was looking at.” She remarks, fondly recalling the situation. “He caught me in the grocery store. I recognized him.” It had been her first day, and he had been the first person to welcome her. The memory has been tainted by recent events.
What an odd feeling. She felt warmth in her chest, speaking so fondly of him. Perhaps he would walk right through the cafeteria doors, and sit down beside them. How she ached for his presence.
What an interesting question. She bites back another smile, thinking about it. “Lotsa stuff.” Their time spent together had laid both of them bare. Jack knew quite a bit about her, and she knew quite a bit about him. Maybe a little too much. “Sometimes he’d make us dinner. We talked about everything.” His life, his experiences, his hobbies… For once, she ached to listen. “He was gonna teach me to play chess. He was real smart like that.”
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