orifice | ☞ she wears me down to bones in bed.

Entry tags:

☞ she wears me down to bones in bed.

who jack + isaac
what 8) she's baaaaaa~aaack.
rating r
warnings isaac gets crazy, nicole is gross, jack is ~~a whale~~ jack

[ Jack tends to know when Isaac does not feel well. He knows when Nicole comes back. That is what he rides on, the idea that someone understands, that someone knows. Love me, love my dog. That song and dance. Except instead of a dog, he muses in the dark, I've got a dead girlfriend.

It's dark and cold and the stars are cruel tonight. Isaac doesn't have to turn his head to look out the window. It's as if they are a signal, a calling. She's coming, she's coming, and he closes his eyes to try and sleep again, his fingers winding through Jack's hair. He feels a puff of breath against his throat, a slight nuzzle. Good, yes, just focus on...

Isaac.

His eyes open.

He doesn't jump. The sight is normal. He can will her back away.

She bleeds over him with a smile and he can smell it. Wet and fetid and coppery. She wants him up.

Not tonight.

He is careful, he is always careful as he shifts Jack just slightly, tucks the blanket in close around his arms and kisses his jaw slowly. I'll be back, it's a quiet promise as he moves from the bed, feels the cold floor under his feet, hears his heartbeat and her voice like a prayer. His hands pass over walls, the cat's eyes glow in the dark, faint and green and he swallows. Don't look at me like that, Cat. Nothing's wrong.

Everything is wrong. Nicole hisses. I don't like to be ignored.

Isaac thinks that a shower will do. Sometimes it does. Sometimes she goes down the drain like dirt and blood from his lip. He strips easily, turns on the water. ]

I'm done.

[ This isn't the Ishimura. It's not the Titan Station. It's a goddamn house and he repeats this over and over with cold water sluicing over his face, down his shoulders and back. The temperature changes slowly and he breathes out. Warm. Warmer. Warmer... Until it's hot and it burns, but it's okay. It'll wake him up. The pain will wake him up and he can turn it off, but as he pushes himself, lets the water flow hotter and hotter, he feels it, the sting of her wrapped around his conscious like a hot coil and it's a sound out of his mouth that is most pitiful.

Pitiful, Clarke--get. A. Grip.

You can't get rid of me, Isaac. We have unfinished business. You still haven't done it. There's so much work. So much to do.

He shakes his head. Just a little more. Just a little hotter, but the water burns too much and he presses against cold tile and digs fingers into it uselessly. Go away, go away, get away from me, I don't want this--

And you think I did? You think I wanted this? ]

Don't do this to me.

[ No, Isaac. No, don't you do this to me. He steps out of the shower and tries to ignore her. Moves to grab a towel and wipe himself down with determination. His head pounds, but it's easy to slide on underwear and--and he lifts his hand. It's only sensible, wipe away the fog from the mirror, just to run fingers through his hair, to see that he is alone and that she is not here... except his fingers stretch out and it's slow and deliberate, no wiping, but drawing.

He remembers his cell, small and tight, housing before stasis. They hadn't bound his hands so he'd bitten his fingers, felt the flesh give and bleed as he wrote. The Marker wanted him to work. And work he did in writing.

A line now. A circle. A curved swath over the mirror. Another line. The wetness against his fingertips is close to what it used to be like. It could be like blood, dark and red and thick. He licks his lips slowly and--he lifts a finger to his mouth with care, bites down hard, slow, feels the slight snap of broken skin, the taste of hot blood. He repeats it on his middle finger. His ring finger. That'll do. That'll do just fine.

He reaches up and traces over each and every line and circle. Perfect. Color. The only color you need, sweetheart.

Isaac Clarke cries, at the spot of blood on his lips growing and the way his hand shakes as it bleeds and how the language drips over the mirror and how he is steadily losing it all. Losing his control. The only thing he's ever wanted. Give it back to me, he thinks. Give me back my head. It starts off with the little things, he gets sleepy-eyed, heavy-limbed, cold inside to his guts. He whispers: ]

I don't want to.

[ It always is, she says into his ear and that is when he knows. Her fingers are cold, they're so cold and he closes his eyes as they trail down his pulse. The barest scrape of nail. Sharp. Her scent is of a waking nightmare, dead and dry. ]

You're not Nicole. Nicole is dead.

[ All your fault, she says. Now... look at what a great job you did. It's too sweet. Like calling a dog stupid in the sickliest voice. He makes the mistake of looking up, eyes blue and wet: ]

[ Say it with me, Nicole murmurs and he shakes his head, feels a slowly winding bead of moisture make its way past the crown of his head, over the line of his brow bone. Her nails dig in deeper.

He wants to wipe it away (it's too red) but doesn't. No. Not this. Don't you remember? she asks him. I told you we weren't finished, Isaac. We'll never be finished. Not now, not ever. You can't run. Just because you think you can forget now that you have him. It's not that easy, Isaac.

Isaac shakes his head, but the words come out as she brings him down to the cold tile of the floor, holds his head so he isn't even staring at the mirror--only her eyes that glow white hot now, their kindness very much a distant memory. ]

The nightmare is over...

[ He says this, but soon after tells her in a soft voice that no. No, he doesn't want to. He's done. Fuck this. She urges him forwards, lips against his ear as he collapses inwards, feels small and tight and cold. For a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut tightly. Go away, go away, go away.

He needs to feel something, a twinge, a pain, so he takes his hand, sinks teeth into the meat of his thumb and forefinger, bites down hard and feels it break, blood flowing free. Good. Pain--she is still there, still holding his head in soft, cold hands and he cries freely, jaggedly.

You need so much more than just that... you've gone soft.

Please leave...

The nightmare is over... go on... ]

... But--but it will not end...

[ She smiles, he can see her, a soft curve of sweet lips with her hair falling into her eyes. There is a pain that winds its way through him, something soft and nostalgic as her laughter caresses him with the pleasure of needles and dark. He mutters something like "please" and "stop" and his hands are shaking and maybe she thinks that her job is over and done with and maybe... no more... she's gone and he's left laughing, and it's cold and quiet here and the lights in the bathroom are dim and the mirror is smeared with blood and he's laying there wondering if there's any way to pick himself up after something like that. The worst it's been in a long time. ]

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[He sleeps light.

Most of the time, anyway. There was a time when for a while he slept deeply, he and Isaac untroubled by nightmares. That was a good time.

But then Jack woke up with scars on his neck and everything went back to the beginning again, and there's rarely a night when Jack doesn't wake up once or twice from nightmares or tiny sounds around the house.

So when Isaac leaves the bed, Jack starts to wake up.

It takes longer than it should. Maybe it's because he's doing better, maybe not. Whatever it is, by the time he's awake and notices Isaac's absence, he can hear a soft voice coming from the other room.

He frowns. Either Isaac has the TV on or...

...Jack throws the sheets away and gets up, he walks softly, quietly, to the bathroom.

The nightmare is over...

...but it will not end...

Dammit.

Dammit.

He doesn't even bother knocking when he hears the laughter, he just opens the door, and he sees Isaac, bleeding, he sees the mirror, covered with those marks, and he doesn't hesitate, he walks in and crouches down and takes Isaac's hands in his.

Isaac, Isaac.

Isaac what have you done.]

[ Don't.

Touch.

No.

No touching.

It's the first thing that really goes through his mind when his hands are pulled forward, fingers curled inwards and eyes widening. But as he sees, they're warm hands, large and callused and he lets out a loud breath, looking up from the floor. He wants to say he's sorry. Really.

He's never made such a mess before. Not in the house.

But that... that was over... it was over and...

Isaac~

He startles, hands jerking away. ]

[No.

No.

Eyes on me, Clarke. Eyes on me.

Jack lets the hands go in favor of taking Isaac's jaw in his hand, tilting it towards him. Look at me, don't listen to her, she's not here.

I'm here.

I'm here.]

[ His nostrils flare just slightly, head balking back.

You could stay with me, she says into his ear and his eyes flick downwards. We could be whole, Isaac. Like we used to be. All you have to do... is...

That's Jack's face. Those are Jack's eyes. He shakes his head. ]

... Whole.

[ Make us whole, Isaac. ]

[No.

He knows what that means.

Jack's hands cup either side of Isaac's face.

Keep looking at me, Isaac.

Don't listen to her.

Don't listen.

There's no voices here.]

[ Oh those are...

Those are hands.

Those are Jack's hands, more importantly, and he lets out a noise. It's strangled and quiet. One hand slips up, presses to Jack's knuckles very softly.

It's really... it feels real and warm under his touch. Warm is real. Warm is very real. Not the cold hands around his throat. Those aren't real. Those aren't here.

He blinks slowly, heavily, and wets his lips. ]

Jack...

[...that's a start. Jack smiles faintly, hearing his name on Isaac's lips, and he leans his head forward slightly, touching his forehead to Isaac's.

Yes, that's right. It's Jack. Just Jack. No Nicole, no necromorphs, just Jack.]

[ A sharp breath. ]

She's...

[ He squeezes his eyes shut, a desperate sound from his lips. ]

Make it stop, make it stop...

[God he wishes he could talk. He wishes so hard, so fiercely, he'd give just about anything right now to be able to tell Isaac that it's all right, that he's here, that he doesn't have to worry.

But he can't. His mangled throat can't form words, all he can do is hold Isaac, hold his face, hold his head to Isaac's, breathe out, breathe in.

Isaac.

Isaac.]

[ It takes a bit of time.

Just... just a few minutes. The pain in his fingers a slow, long throb. He swallows, swallows dry and shifts just a bit on the ground.

His cheek turns a bit, presses further into Jack's hand. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. ]

It's you...

[He nods, biting his lip slightly before leaning in to kiss Isaac quickly, softly on the lips.

It's me, Isaac. It's okay. I'm here.]

[ She's here. She's here. She's in his head. She's not. Going. Away.

The kiss is startling and he jerks a bit, breath quickening when the contact is made, but pressing in just slightly. Just a bit more. When he pulls back, it's with warmer eyes, fingers reaching up, wrapping around Jack's upper arm slightly. It's Jack. He's with Jack--there's no ship, there's no Nicole... she's dead.

It isn't really her.

It's not really her.

The blood from his fingers, still slick and warm makes grabbing a bit difficult. ]

[He feels the blood on his skin, the warm slipperiness of his fingers, but Jack ignores that for now because it doesn't take priority. Isaac takes priority, and right now he's struggling, and all Jack can do is hold on and hope it helps.

And for the moment, it seems to be.

Stay here, Isaac. Stay with me. Stay here.]

[ His lips form a thin line. Don't. Don't say it. Don't let the words come out. They come out, you accept them. You accept them?

There's no point.

So he won't. Not now. Not... not yet.

I'm okay... he mouths it softly. I'm going to be okay. Just like he repeats over and over in his head, even as Nicole wants to take hold, wants to drag him underneath again and swallow him up in the dark. Breathing in. Breathing out. One. Step. At. A time. ]

[Jack nods, just slightly.

One step at a time.

Jack runs his thumbs across Isaac's temples, his fingers curling slightly in his hair, and he leans forward to kiss him again, gently, softly.

One step at a time, Isaac. He's here. He's here.]

[ The kiss calms him, briefly, a warmth and familiar touch. When he breathes it, it's Jack. When his eyes flicker open, it's Jack. For a moment, he thinks that he could calm down, and for certain Nicole is growling to a stop in the back of his brain for the time being.

Pulling from the kiss, he breathes out. Looks up. He swallows.

He did that... He wrote that all and he shakes his head. ]

Get me up.

[ A soft sound as he grips harder. ]

I want to be up.

[ His head, god his head. So much shit in his head. ]

[Jack pulls back slightly, nods, and easily slings Isaac's arm over his shoulder. He stands, taking his weight, bringing Isaac up with him, one hand holding his wrist the other supporting his torso.]

[ He struggles, legs feeling too much like liquid. He could sink into the floor if that were possible.

It's soft. ]

M'sorry.

[ I'm sorry, Nicole. I'm sorry. Jack. ]

[No, don't say that. Don't... it's okay.

Jack gently bumps his nose against Isaac's cheek, presses his lips to the skin briefly. It's okay. Nothing to be sorry for.

But we do have to do something about those hands. Jack reaches over to the sink and turns on the faucet, starting the process of shifting Isaac around to wash his fingers.]

[ He looks down at the faucet, leaning half on Jack, half on the sink as the water begins to slide over his fingertips. They shake just a bit, from the slight pain and the anxiety that wells in his gut...

Isaac looks up. Sees the blood, the steam long-faded.

He swears that she is there too, chin on his shoulder, eyes deep and sad and he looks down quickly. No.

Looks up. She's gone. ]

Go away, go away...!

[Jack frowns, puts a hand on Isaac's shoulder.

She is gone, Isaac. It's just us.

Just us.

It's okay.]

[ It's not just us.

It's not.

It's not.

His fingers clench into his palms under the water and it's a surge of rage that hits him. Why can't you control yourself? Why isn't your head your own?

It's faster that he realizes it, the way his hand comes up light lightening.

The nightmare is over--

His knuckles make contact with the glass sharply, the mirror's surface spidering out from beneath his fist. He heaves. ]

[Jack inhales sharply, exhaling a concerned hiss as he snatches Isaac's hands away from the glass, holding them by the wrists firmly.

Stop that.]

[ He shakes his head, tugs, looks at the mirror. It's only cracked. It needs to be broken and gone. The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the fury rise and it's an ache that starts at his spine and draws up like a thread as he turns to the mirror and jerks. ]

Get out of my head!

[Okay they need to get away from the mirror. Jack keeps his hold on Isaac, shifting up to hold his forearms and get a better, firmer grip.

He pulls, trying to get Isaac out of the bathroom, away from the mirror.]

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