What makes Jack angry, more than anything, is that even when she and Courtney are happy — even when things are FINALLY OKAY — something has to ruin it like this. The past can't stay dead and fucking buried where it belongs.
She's had her own nightmares, and she recalls at least one night when she woke up practically ripping Courtney's hands away from her and shouting for someone not to touch her. She gets it. It's a lot, it's so fucking much. And in reality, neither she nor her girlfriend are the best at letting themselves be comforted about the nightmares.
Jack knows both of them tend to just ... pack that shit away even when it's bad.
This is one of the nights when it's different. When Jack's mind has thankfully decided to be calm, but then she wakes up in the early hours to hear Courtney struggling beside her. That would be enough cause for concern, the whimpering and strangled groaning ; Jack's already trying to wake herself up, turn over, check on Courtney. The second it turns into Courtney gasping, though, Jack is wide awake and taking action.
She tries to never overstep where Courtney can take care of herself, Jack knows she doesn't like people treating her like she's breakable. When she's in this bad a state, though, Jack simply does what needs to be done and pushes the nozzle of her inhaler into her mouth before pressing down on the canister. ( It helps that she keeps a spare with her, and puts it on the table on her side of the bed at night. Having to reach over Courtney to the other table wouldn't have gone over well, she thinks. )
She also doesn't think asking about what happened in the nightmare or pressing Courtney to talk about it is gonna help. It's all the same shit in those dreams, just set up differently. Jack knows how it is. It's like how it is in her nightmares — identical themes, dressed up in varying ways. People hurting Courtney happened in the past, but it didn't happen again now. Her brain's just being a piece of shit.
Telling her it didn't happen right now isn't going to help either. So Jack just takes her in and holds her, trying to offer what little reassurance she knows how to.
It's awful. It's fucking awful. Jack tries to say it's okay, but like. It's fucking not. It's not okay that it happened to her in the past, and it's not okay her mind is still making her think about it when she's supposed to be healing and happy.
" Don't ... don't, " she finally murmurs. Because by this point in their relationship, she knows what Courtney wants to say. That she's fine ? And she knows Jack isn't going to believe her. So it kind of hurts that that's her first instinct even when she knows she's obviously not fine. " You're not fine. And that's okay. YOU DON'T HAVE TO BE FINE RIGHT NOW, sinta. "
She hates it when Courtney's hurting, especially when it's so much pain that she's crying. Jack can count on one hand the amount of times she's seen Courtney cry. But there's also a part of her that's desperate for Courtney to know she can cry around Jack, that she can just fucking fall apart and Jack's going to be here and it's not going to scare her away and Courtney is still going to be taken care of.
" I've got you, okay ? I've got you. " Her voice is soft and gravelly as she presses a kiss against Courtney's forehead. And another. Jack's hand rubs gently between Courtney's shoulder blades to keep her grounded. She can't — CAN'T — let Courtney's mind go back there. " I'm not going anywhere. I'm here. You're safe. You're with me, in my apartment. Nobody else is here. Nobody's gonna touch you. They'd have to get through me, and I'd fucking die before I let that happen
There is something so comforting in the way Jack says the nickname in her language. It helps in a way. Courtney hates feeling so small and vulnerable, arms wrapped around Jack like it’s the only thing holding her together. Maybe it is.
Courtney moves, not to pull away from Jack, but to climb into her lap and wrap herself around her completely, seeking out the comfort and closeness with her clinging to her like some kind of koala bear.
She can’t be bothered to be embarrassed by it. Jack won’t judge her for her desperate need to get close, to feel safe, to feel anything other than phantom pain or phantom hands.
Jack’s own hands rubbing along her body helps wash away hands that are not there, she can focus on Jack’s warm palms against bare shoulders instead. Her girlfriend’s touch is soothing and grounding, keeping her in reality instead of the flashbacks that play through her head like some kind of fucked up slideshow.
Jack assures her she’s safe and Courtney believes her. Jack would burn down the entire world if it meant keeping her safe, but it doesn’t rid the dread in the pit of her stomach that almost makes her sick. She swallows the bile back, trying to focus on the closeness of their bodies instead, eyelashes fluttering rapidly against Jack’s skin from Courtney trying to blink back the tears. She fucking hates crying.
“I hate this.” Courtney admits, “I thought I moved past this shit.” What the hell had even brought it on? It had come out of nowhere, memories plaguing her dreams when they hadn’t in quite a while. Will she ever heal from this bullshit? It doesn’t feel like it at this point.
