2008-03-02: Ascend

Starring:

Jack_icon.gif Peter_icon.gif

Summary: I'll lift you and you lift me, and we'll both ascend together. John Greenleaf Whittie

Date It Happened: March 2nd, 2008

Ascend


Weichsel Carcass House

A pair. That's all Peter has. Good thing they're a pair of Queens. Higher than most. He looks down at his cards again, chewing idly on his lip before he puts another dollar in the cup that sits at the edge of the cage. The always smiling face is looking inward, into the sealed cage, watching. If only the man inside the cage new how familiar this kind of situation is…

This time, Cup isn't playing. Not yet.

Looking up from his cards, he suddenly asks, "Think you're ready to talk to Trina yet? Don't think you've used any of the minutes on the phone." He's going to lose this hand, unless the three cards he tries to throw away give him anything better. He trusted the other man to deal, though. The crisp set of cards that he purchased at a convience store in the meatpacking district has been seeing it's first shuffles.

Trusting Jack is one thing. As ragged as he's been lately, he always does his best to keep his word.

Trusting Jack to deal cards is a different matter entirely. I'm a magician, bitch. Remember?

The deck is carefully stacked. Still, there's nothing personal about it when he deals Peter a two of spades, a six of hearts, and a nine of hearts from the bottom of the stack. Then Jack takes three cards from the top and slides them into his own hand.

Wait. This isn't right. This isn't right at all. He should have picked up two queens and an ace, giving him two pair. Instead he's picked up a two a spades, a six of hearts, and a nine of hearts, leaving him with dick all. Which means that Peter must've gotten the…

"Ahem. Trina. Yeah… I been thinkin' about her day and night. I think I'm ready." Jack nods briskly, more to himself than his poker partner. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready. S'your bet again, kid."

There are times when it is really bad to take a drink. Someone who isn't good at bluffing can attest to that. While the cards are delt out, Peter opens up his water bottle, which is only chilled because of the cold air in the room, and takes a drink, and he's still drinking when he gathers up his five cards again and looks at them. All lined up. A fit of coughing follows, before he can manage to swollow it down.

If he'd known that the man has every idea what he's been handed, he might not be looking in shock half as long as he is. "It's… good that you think you're ready. I think she's ready to see you too." He clears his throat, reaching to his pile of money and picking out something decidedly larger than a one dollar bill. Just a ten, though. Even if he knows he has a good hand, he's not about to try and push a hundred or anything into the pile. But maybe he'll actually get some of the money he's lost back…

"I went to see her today. She wants to see you too."

Part of Jack is wrapped up in his boffed-up sleight of hand. The rest is immersed in something far simpler. Want. He wants to see Trina so badly that it actually hurts. His stomach clenches, his brow furrows, and he lets out a shuddering breath.

He's barely paying attention when he fishes a ten from his own stack and tosses it out into the pot. At this point, he really owes Peter one. Not only that, if he doesn't give up a hand every now and then, he'll end up taking all of Pete's money and get stuck playing solitaire again.

"Call. Show 'em. How— how was she? Was she doin' okay?"

And of course this is the point when Peter realizes… This could go two ways. Either he'll be called all girl, or… he smiles faintly as he lays the hand down. "Looks like I got the ladies this time." There's a smile, lopsided as most of his are, before he takes the money and puts it into his pocket again. "She's… gittery. Nathan stopped by. I think he was Logan for at least part of it. She wasn't hurt." He adds that last part as quickly as possible, before the man can really have a chance to worry about it.

"She didn't know where you were, and I think Nathan tried to make up for what happened by sending a contractor to do some of the work. I cooked her breakfast and made sure she ate, stayed with her for a while." Part of him hadn't wanted to leave her alone, and for good reason.

"He was looking for you, Jack."

The cards suddenly seem unimportant. Jack clenches his fist around his until they crinkle into an untidy mess of glazed paper. "Shit. Shitshit. You have to bring her here. Something. We have to do something."

Despite Peter's assurances, Jack is precariously close to panicking. This is exactly what he'd been afraid of. This is exactly why he stashed Trina away in a hotel room that nobody knew about. Irrationally, a part of him wants to be angry with her for leaving her safe haven. It's the part of him that's still ravaged by the desire to shoot up, to jam a spike in his veins and get high at all costs.

The rest of him understands all too well. He can't lock her away, but he can't keep her safe while he's stuck in here…

In comparison, the cards are unimportant. Though Cup's smile is unaffected by the shift in mood and the dire subject. That's the thing with a painted smile. Never goes away, until someone makes it go away. "She's okay, Jack," Peter reassures again, reaching through the bars to touch the man's arm and squeeze him through his sleeve. "I can bring her here. I could go get her right now— or bring her tomorrow." Suddenly he half wishes he would have brought this up earlier. But some things need their own time.

Whether she was hurt or not, she had been scared. Scared to the point of paranoia. He made her feel helpless, and unsafe in her own home. What was supposed to be her own home.

"Or I could take you to a hotel room, so you could stay the night together. But only if you feel you're ready to leave." The cage. There's always been anything he needed brought in. Anything that he couldn't just bring in himself. But being ready to leave…

"Oh Jesus. Oh man, I dunno." Jack lets his crumpled cards fall to the floor and leans toward Peter slightly. The simple comfort of sympathetic human contact is a welcome one.

His willpower has increased tenfold in the days that he's been here. He's no longer a slavering, mad beast. He can control his fits of rage. Submerge them. He can rein in his desires.

All of these are good things, but are they good enough? Can he be strong enough to keep his promises to her?

In the end, Jack nods slowly and looks up at Peter's face. Though his own injuries are healing well, he's short an eye and his nose will never look the same again. "A hotel room," he agrees. "She should have the chance to see me and hear the truth from my mouth."

"Okay," Peter says, keeping his hand on the man's arm so that he can keep feeling the human contact. He seems to be glad that the man has come as far as he has, and is unwilling to let him feel alone at this crutial moment. "I'll drop you off there a little early… let you get showered, cleaned up." It won't do much for the injuries… but maybe it'll make him feel nicer… "Anything you think you need to do before she arrives. I can even grab you a change of clothes in your size." It's better if she sees him in a good state, just like he'll give her a chance to clean up too. The two of them could have a good night together… he hopes.

There's a small pause, a hint of hesitation. "I'm proud of you," he says. That's not why he'd been hesitating. "There's something else I… that I need to tell you." That had been why he hesitated, and it seems to be obvious he's still hesitating on it. Needs to tell him… but…

He glances down at Cup, as if it could give him support. He's not even looking at him. No support for him… "It's… it can wait until you see Trina."

Hotel room. Clothes. Trina seeing his fucked up face. Peter is proud of him. All of these things create a lot of mixed emotions, but the first one that comes up is gratitude. Slightly embarrassed, Jack ducks his head and smiles crookedly. There's even a hint of blush to his cheeks. He's come a long way in trying to find and fix himself since he was locked in here, and he has Peter to thank for most of his recovery.

"Wait. Wait a sec. You need to tell me what?" Jack frowns and tips his head to the side. "Don't leave me hangin', Pete."

Is he blushing? Peter thinks he is. That has taken him by surprise, even in his hesitation. But there is something that he needs to tell him, even with the hesitation. It lets his mood become more serious, dropping back down to the Cup for a moment. Not the same Cup, just a stand-in. But it had been important. Important enough to carry an imprint of emotion strong enough to tell him more of what happened that night than anything else.

There's that hesitation again. Something very important.

When he looks back up at the damaged face, there's guilt in his eyes, dark hair falling onto his forehead, touching his eyebrows. "Heidi isn't dead. You didn't really kill her. I've been hiding her… so that Logan wouldn't send anyone else after her."

It's only a sudden grip on the cage bars that keeps Jack from falling to the floor. Even so, he sags against them and gasps audibly. Shocked. Confused. Amazed. It. But. Can't. What?

And now it's time for Jack to cry. He pinches his eyes closed and shakes with repressed sobs as tears track clean lines down his filthy, stubbled cheeks. "Oh God," he whispers breathlessly. "Thank God."

No anger. No 'why didn't you tell me?' No indignation. Just relief. "Fuck," he mutters, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. "I can't believe it. She's really okay?"

As the man physically reacts to an emotional admission, Peter reaches through the bars again, moving on closer so that he can put his hands on the man's shoulders. Both of them. All thoughts of Cup and the poker game and the money he lost and won back are gone. "Yeah… she was hurt, but— I guess faked it. And you were too strung out to check." He keeps his hands on the man. "She climbed out the window after leaving me an emergency text message… I managed to find her a few blocks away. I healed her enough."

His hands stay tight on the man, understanding the pain. Understanding the guilt. More now than he could have months ago. And the relief that must come from being told it had all been a mistake.

"I haven't been able to tell Nathan. Whatever he knows… Logan would know…" And that's difficult for him. "Until I know he's not in a position to hurt anyone again… I couldn't… tell him." Even if he wanted to. "But you needed to know now. It's one sin you didn't commit."

Thunk. Jack's head comes to rest on the bars. "Man. I feel a little overwhelmed, y'know? Relieved. And. I don't even know. Thanks, man." He extracts himself from Peter's grip, but only so that he can give the man a proper handshake. "I could never thank you enough. You saved me from myself, you looked after Trina. And Heidi…"

It's all Jack can do not to choke up again. Though he's killed and even murdered before, he's never taken the life of an innocent who was close to him. Thanks to Peter, he still hasn't.

When he catches his breath again, he looks up at his friend and smiles. It's small and tired, but it's genuine.

"I know," Peter says, an understanding smile tugging on his mouth. Lopsided as it may be. All his smiles are. The handshake is returned, his other hand coming down to rest there as well. There's even moisture alighting his own eyes, a redness around the eyelashes that hadn't been there before. If it weren't for the bars, he'd probably be trying to hug the man right now. That will wait.

"You would've done the same for me… You did in the future," he says softly, though there's gratitude in his eyes, for himself as well as the man. It's a shared gratitude. Something that's difficult to express. The thanks alone might have been thanks enough, honestly… "You don't have to do anything more to thank me for it, Jack."

Well. There's a pause. "Maybe there are some things you can do… like help me with Nathan. Help me get Nathan to this point." It's not quite the same, but there's similarities. So much has been corrupted. In all of them. It'll never be the same. But it doesn't have to stay the way it is, either.

"We can do it, man." Jack gives Peter's hand one more squeeze and releases him. "It's time. Let me out of this hellhole. I can keep it together, I promise."

His eye narrows and his tongue flicks out to wet his cracked lips. "We can do this," he repeats. "We'll get our boy back. Promise on that, too."

"I actually kind of like this place," Peter says, letting his hands pull back out of the cage as he rounds to where he melted the door shut. Every time he needed to get something inside, the door hadn't been opened. Electricity won't work. The whole thing's metal and he'll shock the man inside. It takes a few moments for him to think of what to do. He hadn't really been thinking when he used a radioactive ability to fast melt the metal to the point it stuck together. It's molded in such a way that…

Shaking his head, he opts to close his eyes instead, teleporting into the cage, touching the man, and teleporting back out. The cage is still intact. Difficult to open or close.

When his eyes open, he looks winded. "It might be a good place to use later." For certain things. One of them is why he didn't destroy the cage to get him out of it…

Jack has been teleported more than once before, but it never ceases to amaze him. First you're here, then you're over there. There's a physical disorientation that goes along with it, too. Despite the awestruck 'ooooh' that creeps out from between his lips, his stomach is doing cartwheels and there a throbbing pressure behind his eye(s).

"Whooo…" he says, smiling gamely. "Free at last."

His first steps are faltering ones. His knees bow and knock together like a newborn horse trying to walk for the first time. He's been too injured for too long without real medical attention or anything like proper excercise. Gripping Peter's shoulder for support, he makes a second, more successful attempt. "You're right," he agrees, gesturing to the rough interior of the packing plant. "Can you think of a single person who'd come here without a damn good reason? This place even creeps the shit outta me. It's the perfect spot to hide when we need it."

The grip on his shoulder makes Peter hold onto him again, putting his hands back on the man's arms to give him some steadyiness. "It is pretty creepy," he does add, looking around. He's a vegetarian for crying out loud. Because of things like this, places like this. And he saw the bloody after effects of a violent attack. It should be far more creepy for him than it actually is.

It might be the fact that it looks the way it does, that he doesn't need to carry around a radiation counter— It could become something different than it became in the future he saw. Just like everyone else. Without having to change what it really is. Or was. Or even will be.

"I might be able to heal some of what happened to you, you know," he says, looking over the man's face. "It won't heal all of it… But I could heal some. If you want me to."

"Nuh uh," Jack replies, shaking his head in a brisk negative. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer. I wanna see these marks when I look in the mirror, though. Every one of 'em is a reminder of something I did wrong that I never want to do again."

Things he'd rather forget, but will never be able to. He huffs a deep breath in and out. With his eye closed, he turns his face up toward the ceiling for several seconds. It looks for all the world like he's basking in sunshine that only he can see.

And then he's finished. His eye blinks open and he squeezes Peter's shoulder. "C'mon. I wanna get outta here."

There's a small nod. It's not something he can understand completely. There's no physical scars to go with his mental ones. Not yet. Peter keeps his hand on the man's arm even then, and adds, "Let's go find you a hotel room. We're in the meat packing district, so I don't think this is the best place for it…" Still he starts to move toward the exit, helping the man as much as he needs for his first steps of freedom. They can walk at least to the street, get to the exit. Let the man see the building he's been held in for the first time from the outside.

"Any preference?"

Jack leans on Peter and laughs. It's a rich, warm sound that comes from deep in his belly. Freedom. He's finally free. Not from the cage, but from himself. With a shake of his head and a grin he makes his reply.

"Anywhere but here."

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