☞ 016. (video)

[wouldnotkindly]

[The video starts with some serious jostling around, but it soon straightens out and Jack's face comes into view.]

Is this... This is the City, right?

[He looks disoriented, perhaps more so than could normally be expected from those freshly returned to the City, but that's hardly the most notable thing about his appearance. There's a massive bruise on the left side of his face that stretches from his jaw to the corner of his lip, which itself is split, swollen, and bloodied; there are other spots and spatters of blood on his face, but from the lack of any other visible wounds, there's no telling if it's his own. He also looks as though he hasn't slept in far too long, but the bags under his eyes are nothing compared to the rest of his face.]

This place is really what I think it is? Not just... [He swallows, glances down for a moment, and his expression hardens.] This isn't just Fontaine fucking with me again, putting more shit in my head? Or... [His eyes squeeze shut.] I don't know. I don't remember. I can't remember.

[After a pause, he opens his eyes again, trying not to look too distressed.]

Does anyone know where I live?

Comments

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[rudeandginger]

Jack? What the hell happened to you?

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[wouldnotkindly]

[There's a familiar voice, even if it takes a moment for it to sink in.]

I went home. [The word home comes out automatically, giving his stomach a bit of a lurch once he realizes it.] Back to Rapture.

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[rudeandginger]

Let me hazard a guess and say this wasn't a triumphant return home.

Where are you?

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[wouldnotkindly]

[Jack almost laughs at that. Almost.

Anyway, it takes another moment for him to regain enough of his bearings to answer.]

The fountain.

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[rudeandginger]

Alright, don't go anywhere. Do you honestly not remember where you live?

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[wouldnotkindly]

I don't.

[He could say that, at least from what he's heard of this place, it's normal for people to leave and come back with temporary holes in their memory. But it's less that and more that he's returned with little reason to trust his memory in the first place.]

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[rudeandginger]

[He makes it down pretty quickly, his jacket disguarded at home so he's just in his shirtsleeves and tie.]

Jack?

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[wouldnotkindly]

[Fortunately for both of them, Jack hasn't had the presence of mind to do anything other than what he's been told. In person, though, he looks even worse for wear than what the video feed showed. His sweater is spattered and stained with even more blood, and his arms and hands look like they might have been soaked in it at one point; he's also fairly soaked, which could easily be explained by the fountain he's seated at, but the briny scent about him would suggest otherwise.

He looks up, needing yet another moment to place his name.]

Turlough.

[rudeandginger]

[He lets off a choice stream of swear words when he sees him up close. Jack must not have been off about this Rapture place being hell.]

Come on. Your flat's not far from here.

[wouldnotkindly]

[No, he really wasn't.

Jack nods, then carefully gets to his feet. There's no evident pain, no stiffness in the slowness of his movements; he's just so, so tired.]

I didn't think you'd show up so quickly.

[rudeandginger]

I don't exactly have anywhere else to be. Are you alright to walk?

[wouldnotkindly]

I'll be fine.

[When it comes to walking, at least. But that's all he needs to focus on at the moment.

Still, he looks over at Turlough with a tired smile.]

I don't think you'd be able to carry me all that well, anyway.

[rudeandginger]

If that's supposed to be a crack about my height, I've heard better.

[He can't but let the corner of his mouth twitch up all the same.]

[wouldnotkindly]

[Jack doesn't miss that, and he smiles a bit wider in return. The distraction is helping, at least for the moment.]

Like what?

[rudeandginger]

Nothing with enough witticism that it's worth repeating.

[He gives Jack another hard glare before he grabs for his arm and forces it to loop around his shoulder. Blood stains be damned, he's had worse.]

Come on.

[wouldnotkindly]

[He's more than surprised by the gesture, but not so much that he reacts physically. Well, except to nod and slightly lean into Turlough.]

Okay.

[rudeandginger]

You never argue much, do you?

[Not that he's complaining. It beats spending all day with Tegan. He takes a little more of his weight as he brings them closer to Jack's flat.]

[wouldnotkindly]

[That strikes him a bit, and whatever traces that still remained of his earlier smile are now gone.]

Never. [It's not like he's ever had a choice, really.]

[rudeandginger]

[He gets them through the door and hits the call button for the lift without letting go of Jack's arm. He really is a giant, heavy git, but he's also lost a lot of blood. And as much lugging him around is a pain, it'd be worse to have to scoop him up off the pavement.]

[wouldnotkindly]

[He hasn't lost too much blood at all, really. He's hurt, definitely, but most of what's on him once belonged to someone else.

He doesn't try to pull away from Turlough, but he does take some time to look around now that they're inside. The more he sees, the more he remembers — the more certain he's becoming that this isn't another phrase-triggered state of mind. But that certainty isn't quite at a hundred percent just yet.]

[rudeandginger]

[They don't speak until they're inside the flat, Turlough fishing the spare keys out of his trousers and shouldering open the door. Jack sweater really is soaked, and he tugs at the hem of it.]

I think this thing is a write-off.

[wouldnotkindly]

Huh?

[It takes Jack a moment to realize what he means, and when he does, he looks down at the sweater in question.

Back when he'd thought it was a gift from his mother, he never would have dreamed of parting with it. Now that he knows the truth, though, that his actual mother is now a rotted corpse in the back room of a Rapture strip club...]

I don't know. [He doesn't know what to think of most things anymore.]

[rudeandginger]

You don't know that blood doesn't come out of wool after this long? You really are useless, aren't you? Come on...

[He gives the jumper a sharp tug, pulling it over his head before he starts shoving him in the direction of the toilet.]

[wouldnotkindly]

[The tug is unexpected enough to jerk him right out of his thoughts, which also doesn't give him much time to react — or protest — except with a surprised noise.]

What are you doing?

[rudeandginger]

Making you take a shower. Since you seen to be a little behind at the moment.