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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[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.]

[ He jerks at bit at being pulled, looks at the mirror, looks back at Jack then once more to the mirror, lips moving, nothing coming out, but the words are there.

Twinkle, twinkle little star...
How I wonder what you are... ]

[No no no. Jack only pulls harder, get away from the mirror, away. He frowns, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw in an effort not to growl, afraid it will only startle Isaac in a bad way.]

[ No. He started it with the mirror. He has to end it.

That can't be there.

Those words.

He jerks harder--just let him finish. Let me finish the--

When the blazing sun is gone,
When the nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Oh yes it just has to go. One of his arms yanks out of Jack's grasp, goes to slam right into the words again. It's over. It's over. It's over whether the goddamned Marker will let it be or not, so help him.

He's done. ]

[Okay no. That's it. Jack's done with being gentle. It's not getting anywhere. He hisses through his teeth, pulling Isaac's arm and planting his now free hand on Isaac's shoulder, and with a pull and a shove, he is taking you down, Isaac Clarke.

This might hurt.]

[ Fuck--

He goes down hard, cheek into the floor and feeling the pressure of Jack's palm right on his shoulder. He yells, but the pain gets his attention, shocks him enough to get his eyes to widen and his voice to return with a shout. ]

[Jack firmly plants his knee in the middle of Isaac's back, pinning down his arms.

Right. You're not going anywhere. Not yet.]

[ No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no make it stop, make it stop, make it stop, make it ]

--stop, make it stop, make it stop--

[ And he jerks because he's pinned and he's frantic and his heart is hammering against the floor as he fumbles. Give it back. Make it stop. Turn it off. ]

[His jaw is grinding his teeth together, keeping Isaac down, wanting to be able to just fix him but knowing that's impossible and knowing there's nothing he can do right now but wishing there was a way he could just... shock him back to reality...

...for a moment he goes still, his jaw relaxing as the idea comes to him. His brow furrows with concern and disgust but he takes a deep, slow breath--

--and roars.

The sound is immense, echoing around the bathroom and rattling Jack's lungs, the enormous wail of a Big Daddy tearing its way out of him.

It hurts, it hurts his throat and it hurts his head because it's so inhuman, so monstrous, but if the shock of it can bring Isaac back, then maybe it's worth it.]

[ The roar.

Oh god it's bone rattling, makes the teeth in his mouth ache.

"I'm going to show you some images and I want you to tell me about them." / "N-no. Get it away from me!" / "The symbols..." / "What about the symbols, Clarke?" / "They--" He gags. "They were whispering..." / "What did they say?" / He shakes his head. "My head is just... so full of shit."

He jerks once more, but it all stops. It all draws itself inwards, presses in on one singular point insides of him and retreats. Almost afraid.

Isaac shakes a bit, but he's there, and he's quiet, and his eyes look focused, glancing around the bathroom slowly, breath fogging the tile beneath him. He's silent save his breath and he's okay with that.

Because she's gone.

She's silent.

The Marker is silent... ]

[Jack swallows, his mangled vocal chords hurting, but Isaac's gone quiet and he's not sure... not sure if it worked...

He keeps his knee and his arms where they are but leans down to look at Isaac.

Are you... are you back?]

[ Isaac's eyes shut for a moment, brow drawing tight for a brief moment before they open again. He shifts a bit in Jack's grip, but nothing like the fighting before. It's an adjustment, fingers, cut and stinging, flexing and curling.

He looks at him, steady now. ]

[Jack meets his gaze and searches it, looking for the steadiness, the signs that Isaac's returned from... wherever he goes when the Marker tries to claim him.

After a moment, he nods, taking his hands away and removing his knee from Isaac's back, releasing him.

God, his throat hurts.]

[ Isaac is slow to get up, half afraid the Marker will return, reared back and charging. But he sits up slowly without too much problem and he ignores the bruises against his back, along his shoulders to instead look at Jack.

Oh god...

His hand reaches out, presses gently against the side of Jack's neck, strokes with a slightly bloody thumb. ]

[He flinches away from the touch, he can't look at Isaac anymore. His gaze shifts down to his hands.

He did what he had to do. And it seemed to have worked. That's all that matters, right?]

[ Isaac looks, carefully (careful) moves to brush Jack's fingers with his own.

That touch is soft and familiar where it strokes, stays and lingers in his palm. ]

[Jack takes a deep, slightly shuddering breath, and turns his hand to gently take Isaac's hand. He looks over the cuts, turns the hand over to check for cuts from the mirror.

Isaac's hands are bloody. Jack turns slightly to grab a washcloth, sticks it under the still-running faucet, squeezes out the excess and brings it down to Isaac's hand.

Right. Trying this again, without the mirror to look at.]

[ Isaac watches, glances down when Jack's hand goes up for the sink, and holds out his hands for him.

They shake, but the rest of him is calm... or as calm as it's going to get for the time being. The warmth of it against his skin is soothing against the wounds, and bring tense shoulders to slowly drop just a bit. It is a stroke between the eyes and down the nose, a calming sensation over his brain that says shush.

You're safe here.

You're safe in this place. ]

[Jack slowly, carefully, gently cleans Isaac's hands. The washcloth isn't the best tool for the job but it's good enough, especially if Jack goes slowly. He's meticulous, partly because he wants to make sure he gets this right, and partly because he's not quite ready to look Isaac in the eyes again.]

[ Isaac doesn't quite look up either, watches as Jack gently passes the cloth along his cuts. The urge to panic is still there, finger on a small switch inside of him, but he bites the inside of his cheek. No. He has ways of dealing with this.

Normally.

They're never particularly good enough it seems and he winces slightly as the cloth passes over the ragged bite between his first finger and thumb. It's okay... it's only Jack. It's just Jack. He can do this, he can drag him out of it.

He leans forward a bit, feeling Jack's forehead against his own. A soft bump. Thank you. ]

[Meanwhile Jack is fighting off the insecurity, the familiar existential crisis that's the price of using his voice. He tries to ignore thoughts of genetically engineered monsters, created for a single purpose.

What is he other than a monster?

But he's got Isaac's hands in his, and he can be gentle with them. Isaac's pressing his forehead to his, and he wouldn't do that to a monster, right?

He's not a monster. He's Jack.

It's hard to remember that sometimes, especially with his throat in more pain than he expected, the memory of the sound he made still making him frown a little.

But Isaac's here. And Isaac... doesn't think he's a monster.

A smile flickers on Jack's face as Isaac's forehead touches his, and he glances at him, hesitates, then kisses him softly on the lips. It's brief, and when he pulls away he nods just slightly. You're welcome.

Now excuse him for a moment as he stands and roots around in one of the cabinets for the first aid kit.]

[ Isaac gets to his feet, a bit unsteadily. He's got it though, feet on the ground as he moves forward to just. Sit down here on the closed lid of the toilet. HIs hands are held out in front of him and his eyes look down at the broken skin, the bleeding slightly staunched after having been wiped off.

He'll wait patiently while Jack looks for the kit. Deep breaths. Deep, trembling breaths as he watches him, feeling his face warm a bit, his heart pound softly. ]

[He finds the kit and sets it on the counter, opening it. He pulls out antiseptic wipes and gauze.

...He's not an expert in this. In Rapture the health packs were... simple. Weirdly simple. There wasn't any bandaging involved. He generally got some good basic first aid back on the farm, though he's not entirely certain if that was because it was good to know or if his "parents" were just getting him ready for Rapture.

He's not going to think about that.

Anyway, Jack opens up the antiseptic wipes, crouching down by Isaac. He pauses before starting on Isaac's cuts, looking up at him.

This is going to sting, Isaac. Just. Be ready, okay?]

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