Even with Isaac carrying most of his weight, Jack still has to drag his feet up the stairs, and it's taking a little more of his energy and concentration than he really has available at the moment. But they make it, and when Jack is sitting on the bed at last he slowly slumps over, lying down and quietly marveling at the feeling of a mattress beneath him, and blankets and sheets.

He lets out a hoarse sigh and turns his face into it, smelling it, feeling it, and he blinks slowly, breathes deeply, and is finding it much, much harder not to fall asleep.

His injuries are extensive. His captors knew their business well, but there are marks all over his body, stripes and dots and slashes, thick and thin, large and small. The worst of it has been bandaged, with enough care to keep him alive, but many wounds need serious attention. His hands are stiff, and several fingers are splinted. He's filthy, a layer of blood and dirt and sweat coating his skin and his clothes, matted into his hair.

It is impossible for him to move without jarring an injury. He is always in pain.