Tricked Out: Music, Behind the Scenes, and more @tricked-out - Tumblr Blog

Mar 4, 2023

Hi there. I have a prompt request for your anthology. It includes Ivy being sick at home and off school. Her parents are out for the day and she doesn’t want to be alone so, you guessed it, she goes to Jack. Cue Jack doting on his human while she’s ill. Hope you like it.

(Thanks Anon, I did!! Read the full excerpt below the cut or on FF here)

Ivy scowled at herself in the mirror. That in itself wasn't particularly new, but the ever-present redness in her cheeks and the weird shine in her eyes was. Her throat and back were sore, but she ignored them stubbornly and doused her face in cold water instead, hoping that might clear the stupid fog in her head.

It didn't work. And now her face was cold. Great.

She stumbled her way back to her bedroom, wondering if she could get away with adding another layer without looking suspicious. The autumn weather was setting in, so that might help mask the chills that were starting up and down her body. She wasn't sniffing or anything, so hopefully the increasing soreness of her throat could pass by undetected. The fluffy warmth of her bed was calling, covers pulled back perfectly to display her spot, but Ivy resisted and pulled on an extra sweater. She'd be fine. Pop a DayQuil, maybe drink enough water for once, and it'd be fine.

It had to be. She may…not have to go to school at the moment, but somebody had to make sure Anton got up, and since – she checked her watch – both her parents were at work now, it had to be her.

Steadying herself against Anton's door, she took a deep breath and knocked. "C'mon, Little Leite. Up 'n at 'em."

No response, but even with her blocked ears Ivy could hear her little brother groaning and pulling the covers up higher. Enhanced hearing had its benefits, after all.

She knocked again, wincing as the sound bounced off the walls. (Ok, maybe not.) "Anton, dude, you've gotta get up. Wach auf, Kind. You're gonna be late."

A high-pitched whine and no movement. Normally she'd be just plain frustrated, but today Ivy felt a surge of jealousy that she couldn't be the one under the covers. But noooo, she had to be responsible today, because if she wasn't –

New tactic. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the door, mentally preparing herself for the pain in her throat. "All right, you asked for it." She dramatically cleared her throat, grinning to herself.

"Waaaaach auf, wach auf du deutsches Kind! Du hast genug geschlaaaaafen!"

"Nein!" Anton yelled from within. "Nein no no nein NO!"

„Drum magst du wohl aufaaaachen!"

Ivy was many things, but a singer was not one of them. Anton burst through the door, full of six-year-old fury. He stamped to the kitchen for his Muesli and Ivy cut off the song, grinning despite the renewed pain in her throat.

It was easy enough from there – pretend to run a brush through his hair, shove some snacks in his backpack, help him tie his shoes. (Only after he insisted on trying it himself half a dozen times, naturlich.) But the moment her little brother walked out the door, waving once before sprinting down the road to Kindergarten, her symptoms came back in full force. The distraction was over.

Ok, fine, a bit more sleep. Ivy checked the locks and trudged upstairs, swallowing down what was (hopefully) the correct dosage before flopping back into bed.

This wasn't too bad, she thought. Her classmates were off learning calculus or whatever, and she got to (had to) stay home, instead of learning or studying or seeing her friends or –

She rolled over and yanked the covers up over her head.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Ivy woke up - or, at least thought she did. The room was pitch black, her mouth was dry, and her heart still pounded from whatever strange fever dream she'd had. She was under every blanket she could find but her teeth still chattered. She rolled onto her stomach and fought to breathe, trying to piece together where reality and the dream world were separate.

Her principal reading aloud the contents of a letter, exposing her for being connected to Halloween? Ok, not real, but almost -

Being recruited for some strange interdimensional team that wore bright pink? Definitely not real.

Both her ears totally blocked? Real.

Jack talking to her? Not real.

"Are you there or not?"

Wait, what?

Jack's voice following her out of her dream and into the (presumable) waking world cleared away the exhaustion, but not the delirium. She considered, briefly, sitting up. The thought of dealing with whatever auditory hallucination this was and moving was way too much.

"Jack?" She whispered, holding perfectly still and unsure of what response she wanted.

"Ah, you are there! Why are you in the dark? Why do you sound like that?"

Questions. Too many questions. Ivy reached out a hand and fumbled for her Rollladen strap, yanking the blinds up and burying her face into the bed as the sunlight shot into her cave of a room.

"My, that is quite bri- ah. Um. Am I interrupting something?"

The human counted to five before turning her head, grateful that Jack's lanky ass frame wasn't really in her room. Instead, his voice (and image) came from a small mirror hanging on her wall. Jack looked puzzled; his head tilted in its usual cat-like fashion. Ivy considered flipping him off before deciding it was too much effort.

Oh, he had asked something, hadn't he.

"Yes." She grouched, pulling the covers up higher under her chin. "Go away."

Because he couldn't take a hint to save his life, Jack only clicked his teeth at her. "Come now, I thought you're only supposed to be nocturnal in Halloween! It's midday, my girl, let's go!"

Ivy inhaled deeply to start arguing, but at that moment her throat gave a warning tickle before she launched into an eye-watering coughing fit. She clawed her way upright, leaning against the back wall and tried to breathe it out. God, weren't you supposed to feel better after resting?

She fumbled for her water bottle and downed the rest until the cough finally eased. Head pounding, she turned to glare through bloodshot eyes at Jack, who had the decency to look at least slightly sheepish.

"Human ailment, I suppose?" He offered weakly. This time, Ivy managed to find the energy and flipped the skeleton off, sniffing as she did so.

"If you want me to look at new Halloween decorations again, I'm throwing something at you," she said through the phlegm in her throat, waving the empty bottle warningly. "I'm so serious, Jack."

Jack frowned. "You sound awful."

"Gee, thanks."

"Do you need anything?"

Ivy sighed, looking around her room. She had meds. She had water. She even had a bucket in case things got worse. Realistically, she had everything she needed.

But it wasn't everything she wanted. A memory flashed by of her dad cutting toast into strips, of her mom making lavender tea with an amount of honey that would be way too much normally but somehow felt perfect. And sure, she could get up and hobble to the kitchen and get those things, but it wouldn't be – it wouldn't be the same.

For a moment, she let herself imagine Jack's no doubt cool hands on her face but dismissed it immediately. Jack had better things to do, especially this close to Halloween.

"I'm ok, Jack," she said, shrugging. Her chest was hurting, her voice raspy, and all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep (maybe after a good cry). "I'll just sleep some more until Anton gets home."

She wasn't looking at him, but Ivy could tell he was squinting his eye sockets at her, trying to see how far he should press.

"Are you parents there?"

"Nah, but it's fine. They'll probably be back tomorrow."

Another long silence. Ivy drank more water and fiddled with the top of her bedsheet, already feeling herself slip into a doze.

"Alright," Jack finally said, though she could hear the doubt in his voice plain as day. "I'd come in there properly to check but – "

"The Rules – "

"Yes, those Rules. But if you need anything – anything at all – you find the nearest Gateway and come to me, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." She waved her hand, flopping back down and tucking herself in haphazardly, stubbornly ignoring the sweat on her sheets. The mirror went fuzzy, and Jack's face vanished.

Yes. Leave off with the pesky, cranky, sickly human and dive back into Halloween prep. Ivy held the water bottle close to her chest, a faux comfort item. She'd be fine, she decided as she closed her eyes. Maybe just a bit more sleep…

The next thing in her awareness was the sound of rain absolutely slamming into her window. Her limbs seemed to be filled with wet sand, and even blinking felt way too exhausting. She winced from the grey light coming in through the window, squinted eyes tracking a stray raindrop before she slid her eyes closed again.

Her mouth was dry, but the bottle in her loose grasp was empty. She couldn't have been asleep long – there were still hours to go before Anton would be home, when the house wouldn't feel quite so empty.

God. Even if they couldn't do anything, she wanted her parents. The fever made her vision watery as she thought about it. Would they even be willing to look after her like they had when she was little? Or was that only for the daughter she'd been before?

How did anybody do this, getting sick all alone?

Teeth chattering, she stumbled out of bed and shoved her feet into her Hausschuhe, yanking her robe on for good measure. It did absolutely nothing – the chills were coming from within, despite the sweat on her back. She sneezed and gripped the banister, making her way downstairs. She needed another dose of medicine and some honey, jezt.

The process felt far more tedious than usual. Get the kettle. Find a clean mug. Try not to pass out while she waited, swaying from side to side on the cold kitchen floor. She blinked at the kitchen clock, the hand doubling before her eyes. She rested her forehead against the cabinet door, breathing through her mouth. It made her chapped lips worse.

"Yeesh, kid, you look like a walking corpse. And believe me, I've seen way too many of those things."

As it turned out, Ivy's normal senses weren't the only things dulled. Her Halloween instincts, buried deep within her and hibernating, suddenly leapt to life at the sound of the voice. Adrenaline reluctantly flooded her body as she grabbed the handle of the saucepan (thankfully not yet filled with water) and swung.

"HEY! Watch where you're swinging that – uh…"

Oh, hell, that had been a mistake. Ivy didn't bother to feel relieved, crouching down and coughing as the adrenaline seeped from her body. Dizzy now, very dizzy, world spinning very very fast -

"Ah, shit." Marvel – because who else would it goddamn be – seemed to shuffle next to her as she sat (collapsed) on the floor before one invisible hand patted her back. "There ya go, kid, crunchy cough it out."

"I – hate – you," Ivy wheezed. She jabbed the handle of the saucepan into the invisible man's side, too tired to properly appreciate his small yelp of pain.

"Yeah, sure ya do. You gonna get up?"

"No."

"Eh, fair." She heard the slap of skin on linoleum (ew) as Marvel sat down next to her, one naked shoulder bumping hers.

"Ok, so what are you – "

"Jack sent me to check on you," Marvel replied almost lazily. If he was visible, Ivy was sure she'd see him stretched out across her floor. "Wouldn't shut up about it either, so you'll forgive me for seeking some peace."

Ivy sniffed and leaned back fully against the cabinets. The thought was… well, ok, it was a little comforting, but not without a slight burn of humiliation. "Look, I know I'm, like, centuries younger than you guys, but I'm not a little kid." She glared at Marvel, hoping her anger made up for her less than impressive appearance. "I'm not gonna drop dead from a cold; I can take care of myself just fine."

"First of all, you're only a few decades younger than me, so don't go aging me more. Second, no shit you can take care of yourself; you've been doing that for months. But that doesn't mean you have to."

She wanted to argue, really she did, but that took energy, energy she just didn't have. So she crossed her arms instead, fighting back against the frustration in her throat.

Neither of them moved for a long moment. Marvel, for once, was keeping his mouth shut, seemingly content to play with a rubber band left on the kitchen floor. Lazily, she tracked it with her eyes.

"So you're feeling like - "

"Shut up." Her lips were dry and cracked. The kitchen was dark, the rain outside casting a soothing pattern against the glass. She couldn't quite focus her eyes get her night vision to kick in, leaving the edges of her awareness blurry and soft. The whole world seemed to match the image outside her window: smeared and unfocused and very, very distant. "C'n…my meds, on the – they're on the counter, can you toss 'em down?"

"That's Jack's job, kid, not mine. I'm not doing this for you."

"Bullshit," she whispered drowsily.

"That's – whatever. Not arguing with you. We're going to – you know, let's get horizontal, ok?"

"Hmm?"

She thought she heard Marvel huff, though the sound didn't seem as annoyed as she'd expected. "Ok, that's enough of that. Don't pass out on me."

"Jack," she whispered. Nausea suddenly struck her stomach.

"Uh, nope, wrong monster. Marvel, remember? Your favorite invisible pal?"

"No." God, she was tired. Who filled her limbs with wet sand? "Jack…can Jack…"

"Look, if I try and punt you through a Gateway right now, you're gonna dissolve. You get that? Rupture, scatter across the cosmos, all of that. No Halloween trip this time, kiddo."

Ivy's breath came a little faster. "Jack – I – Jack – "

"I'm not - are you gonna hurl? Oh, damn, don't do that. Ok, look, c'mon, let's get you off the – "

"An – Anton –"

"Covered." There was the sound of fingers snapping together, somehow close and far away at the same time. "Look at – kid, look at me."

"How'm…how am I supposed to – "

"Ok, fine, you know that - that one's on me. When do your parents get home?"

"Weiß nicht." Whispering was a lot harder when you were trying not to cry. "I don't - I don't know what – time is it? When is… I don't know…"

"Shit. Don't go – do not cry on me, you little -"

She couldn't even retort. Her throat hurt so bad. Everything hurt.

"Son of a…alright, alright, listen to me."

He was really close, Ivy noted distantly. Normally the thought would freak her out, but right now, with the world as fuzzy as it was, she couldn't find the energy to care.

"Close your eyes, kid."

Well, that wasn't a hard request.

"Great. Good. Alright, now, just focus on not passing out, alright? Keep those eyes shut. Don't want you yakin' up everything you've got." He heaved her to her feet, and Ivy's knees buckled.

She didn't know what happened next – maybe she passed out, maybe she just blocked the memory of whatever strange travel she'd made, but the next thing to come to her awareness was the familiar press of bone against her cheek. There was a low voice speaking to her, tinged with amusement, but she couldn't understand a word of it. All the same, she fought to turn her head towards the hand, a shiver running down her spine as the laugh she got in response, steady and deep.

Blinking her eyes open – or at least, half-open – gave her the sight she was expecting. There was Jack: still fuzzy in her squinted eyesight, but there all the same, his black jacket off and white sleeves rolled up. He didn't seem surprised to see her stirring, but he patted her cheek all the same.

"I'll wait to say, 'I told you so' until you're a bit better," Jack teased, in almost a whisper. "So focus on curing that human ailment of yours, alright?"

"M'not sick," she said, closing her eyes all the same to avoid Jack's grin. "J's tired."

"If you say so. Now go back to sleep."

"N'pe."

She didn't hear his response, already dead to the world once more.

XXXXX

Time was pretty irrelevant, Ivy thought. Her watch wasn't on her wrist, but she didn't think she could read the tiny numbers anyway. The room was dark every time she opened her eyes from naps that felt like they stretched on forever but took no time at all. Even with her ears blocked, she could hear one familiar sound: Jack's bones creaking as he sat next to her or walked over the floorboards, Jack humming to himself, Jack whispering something to her. She should listen, she knew she should, but all she could do was snatch snippets before sinking back into the soft surface beneath her.

"Alright, my girl. Ready for some water?"

"Easy, easy now. You're safe."

"It's over, love. I promise. You're not there anymore."

"Please don't cry."

She'd been crying? God, her head hurt.

When she could focus enough to hold her eyes open for more than a few seconds, Ivy's sweaty brow furrowed in confusion. Instead of the candlelit rooms of Skellington Manor, with scratchy blankets and the sound of screams in the background, she was facing her rather plain kitchen. Strewn across the sofa, with several (too soft) blankets piled on her, Ivy took in the sight of the empty room. A single light was on, the dishes from Anton's breakfast still piled high, and a clock ticked comfortingly in the distance.

The loneliness crashed harder than she could've ever expected. A pain seized her chest, her breathing becoming shallow. Had she imagined all of it? Was she really so much of a baby, so pathetic that she'd thought up Jack being there? Did she really want to be back in Halloween so bad that she'd hallucinated him?

"Not a single bit of elderflower or yarrow anywhere," came an annoyed grumble from the next room. "Honestly, humans, you'd think you'd – Ivy?"

What. What. Ivy stared, her breathing picking up in pace as she stared at the impossible sight.

Because – Jack? Jack was here? The image before her made no sense, no matter how long she looked. Jack was standing there, slightly hunched over to not hit her ceiling. He had a collection of loose tea leaves in his hand and a disgruntled look on his face that melted instantly upon seeing her. And that was – it was a welcome sight, sure, but it was still Jack who was here, looking so odd next to the microwave and picture of her family and he was in her house –

"Ivy? What's wrong?" Jack came closer, freezing when Ivy scrambled back, pressing herself against the couch. Her eyes were wide and glassy, and she was gripping the armrest with impressive strength for her state. He set the tea onto a side table and held his hands up, slowly crouching and approaching once more. She didn't move, eyes tracking his motions and he knelt in front of her, putting them at eye level. Her breaths were ragged, and she wasn't quite looking at him anymore – she almost seemed to be staring through him, to something that wasn't there.

"Ivy, can you take a breath for – "

"Are you here?" Ivy whispered, voice small and cracked. "Like – really here."

Jack frowned. "Of course, love. Why would - "

"Please don't lie to me," she begged. Her eyes were shiny, not just from fever but the tears he could see forming. She still wasn't looking at him, her hands shaking. "I can't, I don't know what's – don't lie, are you here, please – "

He took her hand (ignoring the way she flinched) and guided it to the top of his ribcage, then clasping her other in both of his own. "I'm here, Ivy. I promise. It's just you and me right now, alright?"

"I think I'm seeing stuff," Ivy whispered, still as a statue. Her hands twitched. "You're – how are you here? I thought the Rules – "

Jack couldn't help but snort at that. "I'm the one who set the spell, you don't think I can amend it?"

"But – but I told you I was – "

"And you think I'd just believe that and let you go on your way?" Jack tsk'd at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Even if I didn't have my own concerns, Marvel running into the Manor like the Town was on fire told me all I needed to know."

"Marv…he was…so he was here too? I wasn't – "

"He was here," Jack assured her, not liking the way her voice shook in the slightest. "You're not going crazy, I promise. No more than any of the rest of us, anyway." She swallowed at that, eyes still darting around as though she were in a crowded room. "Can you look at me?" He slid in some of his persuasive charm, just light enough to calm, and waited patiently as her eyes finally met his sockets. She gasped and shuddered, blinking furiously. "That's it, Ivy. Can you see me?"

"I – yeah."

"Can you see just me?"

She shuddered again, and Jack watched curiously as the gooseflesh traveled up her arms. She closed her eyes and shook her head forcefully, as though attempting to knock something loose. Jack tapped out a mindless pattern on the back of her too-warm hand, waiting. Finally, she opened her eyes once more and bit her lip, staring at him.

"Alright, now – Oh!"

Ivy's grasp on his lapel tightened and she fell forward, giving a rather clumsy but forceful hug. She shook in his thin arms as he hastened to return it, keeping her steady as she shook off the last of her confusion.

"Jack?"

"There's my girl," he said with a smile. "Are you with me?"

She nodded against him but made no move to get up. It couldn't be comfortable, slumped over the way she was, but she didn't seem to mind. Jack eyed a nearby candle and urged it to light, letting the warm flame slowly bathe the room in a soft glow. Another mental nudge and the switch on the wall flipped down, plunging the two into a more familiar darkness. Slowly, gradually, Ivy's breathing slowed as she calmed down. Carefully, Jack gathered her thin hair and peeled it away from her skin, feeling the heat where her face was pressed against his chest. He gently laid his cold bone hand against the burning skin of her neck, feeling her sigh in relief.

"Oh, dude, that feels awesome."

Now that sounded more like his human. "I'd imagine," Jack answered. "That fever feels terrible, if I do say so myself. How do you go about living with no treatments for it?"

He could feel her lips turn into a frown. "What do you mean?"

"You've no medical plants in this house! Where is your supply, eh? Have you any yarrow I can use, or is every human determined to stubborn their way through illness like you?"

"We don't use that, Bone Boy," came the muffled response. "If you'd grabbed me the Tylenol, that would've been fine."

"…the Tylo-what?"

"Human medicine," she said, still slumped against him. "For dumb sick humans like me."

Jack urged her up, gently taking her chin in his hand. Her face was pale aside from the red splotches on her cheeks, the skin creased where she'd been laying on the couch. Her hair was an absolute mess. "Listen here," he said sternly, "it's not your fault for being sick – I presume, anyway. You are fragile, yes, very. However – "

"But Jack – "

"It was 'dumb' to not ask for help." He knew she still wasn't in the state to accept advice – if she ever was – but a sense of duty moved him to speak. "If I ask you if you need help, I expect an honest answer."

The human squirmed, trying to get out of his grip, but Jack held fast. "But…we're pretty close to Halloween, Jack, don't you have – "

"Oh, ye human of little faith." Jack sighed and tapped her nose. "We have been running Halloween for centuries, my girl, my absence of a few hours won't derail things."

In fact, a dark voice in his head whispered, it runs too smoothly, doesn't it? No need for a Pumpkin King when things are the same as they were before and before and before and –

"Still feels stupid," Ivy muttered, oblivious to the skeleton's thoughts. "Sixteen and I can't even – wait, did you say a few hours? Anton – "

"Your brother is fine," Jack said patiently, keeping his hold on the human that attempted to launch off the couch. "He's asleep now, upstairs. As you should be, young lady."

"No way." She shook her head rapidly. "I can't, it's – no, Jack."

"I'm getting déjà vu from this conversation, love."

She attempted to glare at him, smacking his hands. "When you regain the ability to have freaky fever dreams, then you can tell me not to go back to sleep."

He dipped his head. "Very well. Tell me where to fetch your strange human medicine and we'll see about getting you on the mend, hmm?"

He rose to go, ready for her instructions, when her hand shot out and grabbed his sleeve. They both stared at her grasp, Ivy looking as startled as he. "Yes?" He asked.

"Sorry." She let go, clearly reluctant, and pulled her hand back to her chest. "Sorry, I didn't mean to – sorry."

"It's…it's alright," he said, tilting his head at her. Something was off here, something beyond his understanding, and Jack's curiosity demanded he get to the bottom of it. "What is it?"

"Nothing, Jack, medicine is upstairs in the – "

"Tell me."

Slightly more power now, but Jack couldn't feel regretful. He waited, arms crossed, until she finally mumbled an answer.

"It's just…I know you're here, or – I'm as sure as I'm gonna get, anyway. But I don't want to…I don't know, forget that when you leave." She shrugged, forcefully casual, as if her words didn't make Jack's ribs ache.

"Come now," he said, trying to grin. "You've seen me, you've heard me, you've touched me. That feels real, doesn't it?"

Ivy wasn't looking at him again, her eyes fixated on some faraway point. "I dunno," she whispered. "There's a lot of stuff that feels real that…can't be."

Warning bells went up in Jack's mind. He crouched back down, trying to get back into Ivy's eyeline. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head.

"Ivy, tell me, what do you mean?"

It was the most power he'd used yet, but this time there was no effect. He watched, almost angry, as she closed herself off, an eerie blankness falling over her face. Ivy, for better or worse, wore every expression and feeling openly, even when she tried to mask them. To see her fully retreat inside herself, as though her soul slipped from her body, was a sight that sent a chill up Jack's spine. It was pointless; the human wouldn't say any more on the matter. Despite his question, Jack wasn't sure if he wanted her to.

Before she went too far from him, Jack leaned forward and scooped the human up, standing and holding her on his hip. It took a few moments, but Ivy shook off some of her stupor, blinking at him in confusion. "Uh, Jack? What're – "

"Easiest way for me not to vanish," Jack said breezily. "Or, if I do, we'll vanish together. Now. Which way to your cures?"

Ivy laughed for the first time since he'd arrived. It was husky and weak, but sweet all the same.

With Ivy's whispered directions, Jack navigated his way to the second floor of the Kunze residence. The hallway was dark, and Ivy insisted on peeking into Anton's door, just to be sure. Together, they watched the small human boy breathe, his fingers loosely curled around a stuffed giraffe. From there, he set her on the counter in her parents' bath, where she popped two bright red capsules into her mouth from an obnoxiously colored bottle. Jack wasn't sure what help the two pieces could be, smaller even than candy, but Ivy seemed certain they'd help. No matter: he'd take a placebo effect if it would help.

Back downstairs, he lit the kettle (thankfully their stove was one he could understand) as Ivy re-tucked herself into the blankets, swapping out the ones too sweaty for use. Her eyelids were almost beginning to drop when he returned with a new hot cup of tea and honey, with a few of his own Halloween editions crushed at the bottom. She may have trusted the capsules, but Jack knew a few of his own supplies wouldn't hurt. He sat next to her on the couch, marveling at the lack of rips and stains as she sipped. It didn't take long for her to worm her way under his arm, leaning into his ribs and sighing in deep contentment. With practiced hands, he dragged his fingers over her scalp, the repetitive motion soothing them both.

"y'r good at this," Ivy slurred. Her eyes kept dropping shut before she'd fight to open them again, with a determination that dared him to ask her to sleep. Jack didn't bother, knowing a bit of patience would give him what he wanted. Ah, teenagers.

"Well, I have had some practice," he teased.

"Yeah." She repositioned herself, trying to press even closer. Jack kept his arm tight, hoping his touch could say what words couldn't. "Did James ever get sick like this?"

Jack's fingers stilled. He hadn't meant his son from long ago, thinking more of Ivy's coma in Halloween, but the memories demanded his attention all the same. Reluctantly, he let himself comb through them. It was always hard, their clarity lost to the centuries, but the more time he spent around Ivy, the easier it became to remember his other child.

"A few times, yes." Jack smoothed a hand down her back, staring into the candle flame. "He had smallpox, as a boy. He shook for weeks." Jack could see hands replacing cold cloths on James' head, the boy's features blurred. "When that rash appeared, I thought for sure it was the end of him, but within two days he was nearly better. We were lucky, I think."

"Jeez." Ivy sighed, one hand coming up to clutch Jack's sleeve again. He pretended not to notice, smiling to himself when this made her secure her grip. "Smallpox sounds way worse than this."

"Suffering is suffering," Jack chided mildly. "It makes no difference to the illness if that of another is better or worse."

"Hmm." Her eyes were closed, but he could tell she was still awake. "Can you tell me more about him? About James?"

"I…I don't remember much."

"S'ok," she mumbled. "You always rememb'r the important stuff."

It didn't feel that way to Jack, but he wouldn't deny her this. And so, he dove back into his treasured, limited memories: the day his son first learned to walk, the time he'd caught a frog and accidentally released it into the house, the pride on his face when he'd first held his own child. His voice returned to its low, smooth monotone as he traveled through distant, misty memories. He slipped into Irish at one point, hypnotized by familiar way the words formed, but Ivy stiffening under him caused him to switch once more. He settled on Latin until the tension seeped from her body. He talked until his own throat grew dry, until he'd gone over everything he could recall, until his ribs hurt. James was long since gone from every plane, but in moments like these, he almost seemed to return to life. A perfect ghost to haunt Jack's memories, a beautiful, welcome pain.

Perhaps she'd been right. He may not remember the details, but he remembered, all these centuries later, that he loved his son. And that, to Jack, was the most precious and important memory of all.

The house was dark, the candle flame low. Jack could sense the dawn approaching. It was still a way off - perhaps another hour – but he could feel the tug to return to Halloween all the same. He didn't know where the two Kunze parents were, but he wasn't willing to risk running into them. Moving for the first time in hours, he glanced down at the human sprawled against him. Only the tip of her nose was visible, the rest of her buried beneath the blankets. She was breathing through her mouth, lips chapped, but when Jack brushed the tips of his fingers over her forehead there was no more fever. He moved slightly, ready for the next step, only to find that she was still gripping his sleeve, face tight with worry.

The faraway look she'd had, the fear of the imagined becoming real – it dug itself into Jack's mind, burrowing in the space where his worry for the human lived. (Every day, he swore, it seemed to grow.) He wished he could dig a hand into her mind and pull whatever worries plaguing her away. Instead, all he could do was crouch down and slowly extract Ivy's hand from his sleeve, gently patting at her soft skin.

"Sorry, love," he whispered. "I have to go now."

The human gave no response. He didn't want to leave her there, comfortable though she now looked. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to scoop up the unconscious human and step sideways through reality to Halloween. But one look at her still-fragile form banished the idea from his skull. Her Gateway traveling abilities were shaky at her best – he didn't want to imagine what it would be like to pull her comatose self through.

And so he brushed his hand over her hair one final time, taking care it was tucked away from her face. Water was close by, there were plenty of blankets, and she'd even brought the bottle of strange capsules with her, so she could have her next dose. All was right – or at least, as right as it could be.

"T'nks, Dad," Ivy mumbled as his hand lifted away.

Anytime, Love.