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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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?]

[ Isaac just breathes in. Gives him a nod. Usually, healing is a health pack, nanobots rushing through his bloodstream, nudging cells together, knitting as best they can. It results in scars here or there, but it kept him alive, the things within his body--probably long dead.

A little sting wouldn't hurt anyone, so his hands just rest there, fingers twitching every so often. ]

[Jack nods back and starts the process of disinfecting the cuts. He's gentle but thorough, because while these cuts might not be terrible, he doesn't want anything going wrong with them. That would just be icing on a terrible cake.]

[ It's not so bad, and it's Jack, so he just watches, sees how his fingers work to clean the cuts thoroughly.

Isaac is slow to move, leaning his head forward a bit to press a kiss to Jack's forehead.

Thanks. For everything. ]

[Jack doesn't look up, but he smiles, just a little, and when he finishes with the antiseptic he looks up at Isaac and puts a hand on his cheek.

You're welcome.

It's only a moment that he holds his hand there before he turns and takes the gauze and presses it to the worst of Isaac's cuts, the one between his thumb and his pointer finger. The rest of them have almost stopped bleeding entirely but that one is still weeping, so he holds the gauze there for a moment before taking Isaac's other hand and guiding it to hold down the gauze himself. He's going to need the medical tape and he'll need both hands for that.]

[ He likes that smile, watches Jack's hands, holds where he needs him to hold and applies pressure to the tear as he listens to Jack move about.

His ears still ring a bit, but it's a good ringing. It's like someone murmuring You're here. You're home. "Home" is an odd word, but Isaac is beginning to think that home is where Jack is at the moment. ]

[Jack cuts off a couple lengths of medical tape and uses it to fasten the gauze in place. It's not meant to be terribly secure, just enough to hold the gauze so Isaac doesn't have to. Jack will change it later. Hopefully by then he can just use a bandaid.

Once that's done, he takes the box of bandaids and... stares at it for a moment. He's not entirely sure why a first aid kit would include bandaids that had bunnies on them, but it's what they've got so it's what he'll use. Jack just applies the bandaids to each cut, one at a time, carefully and securely, each finger getting its own bunny bandaid.]

[ When Isaac sees the box, he snorts immediately, but lets Jack apply the bandaids to his three injured fingers, bleeding well-staunched, and his knuckles (which are not as serious as they'd looked before).

When he's done, he admires Jack's handiwork. ]

The bunnies are a nice touch.

[Jack smiles slightly and shrugs. It's what was available, but he kind of likes them. If it happens again soon maybe the bunnies will help. He'll look at them and instead of thinking "oh, I need blood for the Marker" he'll think "oh look bunnies."

Not that he can say any of that aloud, of course. Instead he just presses the very tips of his fingertips to the tips of Isaac's, a slight touch as he looks over his work.

Not bad for a novice.]

[ Isaac gives a firm sort of nod, letting his fingers slide in between Jack's, lacing very lightly. His other hand goes up to thread through the hair at the nape of his neck, stroking softly. ]

[He looks back up at Isaac at the touch, just looks at him for a moment. Finally he stands, taking Isaac's hand more completely in his, tugging just a little.

Come on. Let's get out of the bathroom.]

[ Good idea, so he'll stand, feel the slight shake in his legs for a minute, the way they go stiff before he urges them forward. Good. This is progress, real progress with bunny bandaids and Jack's hand in his.

He's not looking back, he can't afford to look back, so he focuses on the door. Out, out, out. ]

[Jack leads Isaac out of the bathroom, step by step, taking it slowly. It's not far to go, but he doesn't want to rush it. He knows what this feels like.

When they make it out, Jack pauses.

Bedroom or couch?]

[ Isaac contemplates the choice, he knows it's being given to him by the beat in the air, so he looks at the couch and gives it a short thought before shaking his head. ]

This way.

[ He'll nod at the bedroom. That's a good idea to him, to be honest. ]

[He nods and leads the way, pausing once again once they're inside. The sun is filtering through the window onto the bed and it looks warm and inviting, but Jack doesn't want to do anything even close to forcing Isaac down onto the bed. So he waits patiently.

They could lie down, or they could do something else. They could even get dressed and go for a walk. It's up to Isaac.]

[ Isaac looks at it, the warmth spreading over the sheets, and thinks that it looks inviting enough.

Better than a drawer, part of him thinks, but he shakes his head, tugging Jack as he walks over and sits himself down on the edge of the bed. He doesn't want to let go of Jack, not for a second. ]

[He won't let go. When Isaac sits, Jack sits next to him, close enough so their shoulders overlap as Jack rests his forehead on the side of Isaac's head, their hands linked between them.

He's here. They're both here. Safe. Home.]

☞ she wears me down to bones in bed.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)