2008-03-06: Blood of a Friend, Tears of a Brother

Starring:

Peter_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif

Summary: Jack pays Peter a very important and very overdue visit.

Date It Happened: March 06, 2008

Blood of a Friend, Tears of a Brother


Elena's Apartment - NYC

There's a sound of running water and classical music. Neither of which quite mix, but don't seem entirely out of place. The only movement in the apartment, though, comes from the kitchen, where Peter wipes down the countertop. Freshly washed dishes sit in to drip dry. Everything has been washed down at least once, and he drops the towel into the sink. Even people who don't offically live with someone should do their part with the chores, right? He seems to think so. And they live together in about every way besides sharing a lease right now. Hopefully her father hasn't found that out yet, though…

A piano solo starts on the stereo system in the living area.

Just outside the door, Jack squares his shoulders and sucks in a slightly nervous breath. Withdrawal has made it harder than ever for him to sleep and it still shows. Though a few solid meals and some time with the love of his life have done him well, that time has been brief and his healing has just begun. Physically and emotionally.

He's found himself another suit. This one is a subdued grey with a dark tie and white shirt. Nothing flashy. The sort of suit one might wear to a family outing or a casual job interview. He's shaved, combed his hair, and he's just finished changing out for a spotless set of bandages for his eye and nose. There's a fresh brace on his injured arm as well. He's got a rectangular wooden box about the size of a loaf of bread tucked under it and a thick manila envelope clasped in his good hand. Both are given a quick squeeze, as if to steel or reassure himself. Then, gently, he taps the door with with the tip of one dress shoe to announce his arrival.

Chores more or less done, Peter's just about to leave the kitchen when he hears the noise at the door. The stereo system continues to fill the room with soothing music that almost serves to drown out the water running deeper in the apartment. Or at least it gives a distraction of sorts. It doesn't drown out the tap.

Taking a brief moment to look through the spyhole in the door, he doesn't hesitate long to undo the chain and unlock the door, pulling it open. "Jack." He sounds surprised, and marginally relieved at the same time. "You look a lot better." Some time out of the cage has done him wonders, even if he still looks tired.

"Do you want to come in?" He pulls the door open all the way, glancing at the folder, and the wooden box, as well as the man holding them. The bandages especially get a moment's glance.

"Thanks. I feel better," Jack replies with a slightly nervous smile. "And yeah. Please," He bobs a respectful nod as he steps inside, subconsciously keeping the box held tight against his side. It's a protective, almost childish gesture, like a little boy hugging a teddy bear.

It's not Peter's presence that's making him nervous, though. He shifts the envelope between the box and his brace to hold onto it as he extends his good hand for shaking. The anxiousness in his smile fades to a more familiar, lopsided grin. "Good to see you, mate. Trina sends her love and thanks."

Closing the door behind them, Peter doesn't bother to lock it all the way, just twisting the lock on the knob instead of the rest of it when he turns to face the taller man. "You can keep her love, but I can take the thanks, definitely," he says softly, reaching out to shake the offered hand. "The two of you mean a lot to me. I'm glad that you've got to get back together."

It's something he's tried to say many times before, sincerity in his eyes as he continues to hold onto the hand. His grip is firm, but he does glance away in the direction of the other bedroom. "Elena's in the shower. She'll probably be a while." Just got into it, and maybe she likes to take longer showers?

"What's that?" he asks, looking to the box, the folder.

Jack grips Peter's hand back strongly, more of a squeeze than a shake before he lets go. For what could be the first time ever, he looks relieved to hear that Elena won't be immediately present. "Good," he murmurs. "I wanted to talk to you alone."

Deep breath. Deep, deep breath. Trina and deep breaths are about all that's keeping Jack calm these days. He takes a few, holding each for the span of several heartbeats before releasing it. Slowly, he turns to face the window and look out over the city that's adopted him, sheltered him, given him love, given him pain and anger and grief.

There's no place like home.

This is obviously a difficult moment for Jack. He turns back to face Peter and starts with the envelope. "After everything that's happened lately… well, let's just say that I've been thinking about the future. This has all my plans for if something ever happens to me. You're the only one I can trust to hold onto it."

The contents are organized to the best of Jack's limited ability. He draws out a sheaf of papers that includes the deed, liquor license, and every other bit of important information relating to the Den's ownership. "This is for Trina," he explains. "If I'm ever not around, I want her to have something that's just hers that nobody can ever take away from her."

Patience is one thing that Peter's capable of showing. As the man breathes and approaches the window, he watches, staying close by so that when the man regards him again, he's right there. The future. "Of course," he says quietly in response to the bid of confidence, though he also sounds rather surprised by it. It takes a moment before he reaches to look over the deed to the bar. The reasoning behind it. "I hope nothing happens to you, but if anything does… I'll make sure that she gets it."

There's worry, but it's a legitimate thing to concentrate on. Nearly dying always makes someone think of their mortality. It's something he's thought about a lot on his own. There's no bar that he can offer Elena if something happens to him, though. "I know somewhere I can keep it that's safe. Don't worry."

This is actually part of the training a hospice nurse has to go through. Helping their clients get their lives in order in the last months. Never something to smile about, but it helps people live their last days knowing their loved ones will be taken care of.

He shifts the paper work so he can see what else he might be worrying about getting together.

The calm, quiet acceptance that Peter shows is doing a lot to soothe Jack's nervousness. As he doesn't officially exist, he can't exactly go to a lawyer and draft up a will. He takes another deep breath and smiles a second time, gaining confidence as he proceeds.

See, this isn't the part that makes him nervous. That's still coming.

The next item he hands Peter doesn't make him nervous, either. It's a single, tri-folded sheet of paper and a small key. "That's for Elena. It's the info on a trust account I set up for her a while back. It's not much, but she's the closest I've ever had to a daughter. I know we both want to see her taken care of. Don't tell her, okay? This—" He taps the key. "—goes to a deposit box. It has a few keepsakes innit for her. There's another one like it for Trina."

A trust account. Peter can't help but raise his eyebrows, looking up at the man with surprise. "I know you'd always take care of Elena," he says softly, even as he is surprised by exactly how much money someone like Jack had been able to get together. Probably more than he's ever been able to earn without relying on his parents money or his brother's. Nursing pays well, but not that well. And retail paid even less. And the names on the account aren't missed either. His own name stands out almost more than hers does…

"I always knew you were resourceful, Jack…" he comments out loud on his surprise, as he takes the key as well.

There's a hint of a smile beginning to show through, because of how much this man is thinking about the two women in his life. The two who meant so much to him in the future, and so much here as well. The key too are taken, a nod. Curious as he may be, he doesn't ask.

But there's something he's nervous about, and Peter's eyebrows raise. There's still that box… It earns his attention as he holds onto the rest.

Now the envelope is empty. Jack gathers up the paperwork and keys, sliding it all carefully back in and setting the lot down next to Peter. The curious glance doesn't go unnoticed, either. "I do have one more thing," he says quietly as he fingers the box he's been carrying around all day. It's made of dark-stained wood and banded with brass fittings at the corners. It's somewhat rough, having been built with his own hands while he was confined at the packing plant. The craftsmanship speaks more of care and patience than any real skill, but it's obvious that considerable time and effort has been put into it.

The Irishman takes a deep, steadying breath and lifts the case so Peter can see the contents when he opens it. The inside has been lined with red velvet molded loosely around an old, battered Webley revolver. The same gun Jack used when he tried to kill Peter. On the inside of the lid there's a carved inscription that's been filled with red paint. It reads: 'Cursed be the weapon that has tasted the blood of a friend.'

"For you," he murmurs, offering the box to Peter. "It was my father's. I want you to have it. It's my way of saying sorry and thanks at the same time. You helped me turn myself into a new person. I was so lost, man…" His voice catches in his throat huskily. No words can convey what it means when a man saves your life and your psyche, especially when you've called that man a friend and then tried to kill him.

The box. Peter had known the man brought tools and other things into the cage. Some of it got looked over, but after the welding torch had been taken away, he didn't bother to take away the rest. Even caged, he had been given a longer leash than some, every opportunity to attempt to escape again. It wasn't trust so much as necessity. Just holding him prisoner wouldn't do what needed to be done.

It's still a surprise to see it, and to realize that the man had to have made it. The gun earns a slow inhale, a glance upward, that ends when he sees the inscription. Only then does he look back down at it and realize… this weapon had been used to try to kill him. So had most of the man's kitchen knives, butcher knife. But this…

His father's.

"We all get lost, Jack," he says softly, taking the box, but not picking up the firearm. That can wait. Right now… "Thank you." Voice quiet, sincere. There are even hints of moisture in his eyes. "Being able to help you… it meant a lot to me." So many things had failed, so many attempts to help had blown up in his face. But this time…

"I think it helped me too," he whispers, voice a little hoarse. "Logan didn't lie when he said I killed someone, or when he said I hurt him. Even before I knew he was Logan… I lost control, and I hurt someone I care about. But helping you… it gives me hope. That maybe we can all be saved."

Though Jack is technically the younger of the two, he's always felt like older brother of the pair. Right now it shows. He grips Peter by the shoulders and squeezes warmly with his good hand. His uninjured eye fixes on his friend's face and he smiles. This time it's different from his nervous quirk or his lopsided grin. It's a small, genuine expression. His voice is still raspy when he makes his reply. "You're a good man, Peter. No matter what happens or what you do, it's what's in here that defines who you are." He taps two fingers over Peter's heart. "I've seen how much you care about people. Not just the ones you're close to, either. You care about everybody. For what it's worth, I'm proud of you."

It's a rare and lengthy exposure of Jack's emotional core. He's appropriately embarrassed, coloring slightly and glancing down at the floor. He releases Peter, but not before giving him another squeeze on the shoulder. "I believe in you, kid. I look up to you, I really do. You showed me that I don't need the drugs. I don't even need the power I thought they gave me. All I need is my family."

Jack looks back up and meets Peter's eyes again. His meaning is implicit, it doesn't need to be said aloud. All I need is my family, and that includes you.

"If you can do that then you can do anything," he finishes.

The genuine affection shared between them might take him by surprise. The water hasn't stopped running in the background, meaning they won't be interrupted, and the piano solo has changed tracks, turning into a full orchastra. Soft, but still there in the background, building toward a crescendo. "It's worth a lot, Jack," he says at first, the moisture in his eyes more visible, a reddish tone at his eyelids. Closing the box so he can press it against his chest, he moves closer and makes the shoulder squeeze a full hug.

Worth more than he may ever realize. The future changed him. The present pushed him toward what he is. And there's a whole future to try and look forward to. With his family and the people he cares most about.

"I can do anything as long as I have people… to support me. To believe in me. To help me." It's something everyone's always telling him, trying to hammer into his mind. While he still runs off and does things on his own, it helps to have someone believe in him. "I almost gave up. More than once." Helping someone helped him just as much.

"Just don't make me wear a dress to your wedding this time," he jokes as he pulls back, smiling. The smile and the joke don't make the moisture disappear.

"Bahaha! No, no dress," Jack laughs brashly to cover the film of tears that's sprung up in his eyes, too. Partly in response to Peter's and partly because he's been holding them in… well… forever, pretty much. It's been a raw, vulnerable time for them both and each has helped the other through it in their own way. He doesn't duck away from the hug, either. He gives his newest brother a tight squeeze, even cupping a hand against the back of the shorter man's head to ruffle his hair.

When Jack steps back he huffs out an emotion-laden breath as he collects himself. The backs of his knuckles brush absently against the rough box that holds the revolver. "Consider this my promise. Anytime, anywhere, anything, I'll always pick you up if you fall down. You can't give up, kid. In the end, you're the one who keeps holding us all together."

Good. No dress. Not that they'd known they were getting married when the nun's habit became necessary. Peter doesn't pull back all the way, he keeps a hold on the taller man's arm. His newest brother. Practically an uncle. The words that follow do nothing to stave off the hint of tears, even if the ruffled hair might help mask it. Makes him look younger than his nearly thirty years as it ends up in his face.

"I promise," he whispers, pulling his hand away to finally reach up and push his hair back out of his face. It's just long enough to start getting into his eyes. The motion also allows him to wipe at his eyes with his fingers. Just the once.

"When I need you, I'll go to you," he adds to the promise, even smiling faintly as he does. And it's a promise he's half sure he'll need to keep sooner rather than later. He has a tendancy to get himself into trouble.

"And I'll do the same," Jack says, cuffing Peter's shoulder in a manly show of affection. "You've proven that you're the one person my stubborn ass will listen to."

There it is again. That lopsided smile that makes ever word seem like a secret being shared. He has a lot to be grateful for right now. He's alive. He has a new perspective. He's clean and he's going to get married. All of these things and more can be owed to Peter.

Jack sniffles a bit. Since they're both misty eyed and neither of them is acknowledging it out loud, it's okay. Right? Right. He keeps smiling right on through it. "Thanks again for taking care of that envelope for me. It means a lot."

"Just had to break your nose and lock you in a cage to make you listen," Peter says with a laugh, realizing that the nose at the very least had been his own fault. He'd not even given the man a chance to defend himself, punching him while still invisible and everything. It doesn't include all the other things he did to make the man listen… the one he feels worse about being his venture into shape-shifting. At least he got to tell him the truth.

"No problem. Taking care of paper work is a lot easier than half the stuff I do," he assures, but he does understand exactly what it means. It's far more important than anything else. Sometimes he wonders if he should make plans for the possible outcome that could lead to him dying… and not coming back.

Not today. Not right now.

"I'll make sure it's put somewhere safe." Neither of them are acknowledging the salty tears, so no one's losing macho points. At least Peter wasn't wearing an apron when he answered the door.

The music continues to play, but the water finally shuts off.

Uh oh. Elena's done with her shower. That's Jack's cue. He jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom and lifts a finger to his lips. "Shh," he whispers, winking slyly. "Best I'm gone before she comes out so I don't have to lie about why I came." Then he gives Peter a final pat on the back as he gets ready to leave. "We'll take care of 'em," he promises. "Those are our girls. We're all family. No matter what happens, they'll be taken care of."

Though the passing of his informal will had not been something he anticipated eagerly, it was the apology and expression of gratitude to Peter that had Jack feeling anxious. Knowing that he was already able to provide some help in return has lifted a weight from his shoulders. He stands straighter, looking far less haggard on his way out than he did on his way in. With a final glance toward the bathroom door, he lets a comment slip. Just one, which is pretty good for him.

"Try to wait until I make it downstairs before you two start doin' it. My innocent ears can only take so much."

"They are," Peter says with a hint of a smile, looking toward the bathroom. There's going to be a little time, cause she won't just step out without drying off and putting some clothes on first … usually. This time it seems to be the case. There's enough of a delay as he picks up the paperwork and joins Jack toward the door, to walk him out. And likely to lock the door behind him. "And I know we will take care of them. If anything happens to me… I know you'd be there for her, too."

It's a quiet addition, a trust that he shares with the man. Those two women mean a great deal to them, though the Trina he first grew to like so much had been a slightly different woman than the one she is now. Time travel complicates things, and in some cases, makes bonds stronger. Shows him who they could be. What they're capable of. And who they are in the worst of situations.

The joke makes him laugh, not quite as insulted as he might have been in the past. "All right." It IS tame in comparison. "She'll want to see you someday, but I know she can wait until you're ready," he adds, understanding that there are times a man doesn't want the women in his life to see them. Not yet. "Be safe, Jack." Because he doesn't want to have to open the envelope too soon.

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