2008-01-27: Twenty Minutes


Trina_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif

Summary: After drugging Trina and sneaking out to get his fix, Jack returns and smooths everything over with a few lies.

Date It Happened: January 27th, 2008

Twenty Minutes

Jack and Trina's apartment, NYC.

It was a drag out fight when Trina announced that she was dumping Jack's newfound love down the toilet. It was something for which she was entirely unrepentant, and there was a righteous fury to her announcement. They had made an agreement. Jack had broken it. She was rectifying it. Once it was done, Mah braced herself for the long night ahead.

It was fitful sleeping, filled with numerous checks that her lover was still beside her.

By the time morning came and intruded on their tenuous sanctuary, she was exhausted. Thus, by mid-morning, a nap was in order. It was only supposed to be a short thing — a mere twenty minutes to get the fuzz shaved off of her brain. Twenty minutes, she had promised Jack. No more.

When Trina finally stirs, it's in a pitch black apartment. That isn't what strikes her first; she's still got her eyes squeezed shut. No, it's the pounding headache and the queasy, rolling feeling in her stomach that roughly shoves her into awareness, and there's a loud rush of breath that escapes her lips to mark her discomfort. "Ugh." And then blue eyes crack open to behold the strange darkness. Confusion reigns, and her forehead creases into a field of crisp furrows as she starts to pull herself up into a sit underneath the covers of the bed. "Jack?"

"Hey, baby."

Jack's deep, rumbling voice comes from somewhere very close by, though he isn't visible in the darkness. For his part, he's been home for quite a while. When he promised he'd return before Trina woke up, he meant it. He's wearing a long-sleeved shirt, a relative rarity for him. It has the benefit of concealing his bruises and scrapes as well as his track lines. His coat is draped across the back of the chair that he's pulled up next to the bed. He's still wearing his boots and jeans, a sign that he hasn't relaxed during the time he's been here.

"That was some nap," he continues. "Feel better?"

"N… No." It takes her a few moments to decide that, yes, that was the answer she was looking for. Trina's thin hand reaches out, fumbling in the murky, thick dark for the lamp. "I really don't." There's a sigh as she gives up her search, letting her arm fall towards the floor over the edge of the bed as she recollects her strength in preparation for another rally to find light. The confusion is not subsiding, but at least there's some relief as she hears her fiance's voice so nearby. He didn't leave. "Why's it so dark? H-how long have I been asleep? …And where are you?"

Jack reaches out and flicks on the bedside lamp, bathing them both in a gentle, yellow glow. "You must've been exhausted," he continues lightly. Quickly, covertly, he kicks his boots off and scoots them under the bed. "Don't worry, baby. I'm right here. Don't know how long you've been asleep, though. Lost track."

His casual tone and easy, cheerful demeanor are most decidedly not that of a man who was violently detoxing "just a few hours ago." That, or he's much tougher than even he gives himself credit for.

There's a grunt as Jack turns the light on, Trina shying away from even the lamp's delicate glow. She awkwardly draws her arm back up from where knuckles had been resting on the floor in order to shield burning eyes. From behind a tangled veil of mussed black bangs, she levels Jack with a look that isn't altogether trusting. Or perhaps its just the fact that she looks like death warmed over. "What time's it?"

He's easier to see now, but the dimness of the lap works to Jack's advantage, helping to conceal the frown lines across his forehead as he glances at the bedside clock. "It's two in the morning, sweetie. C'mere."

Like he has so many times before, he slips under the covers beside Trina and reaches out to her. There's a desperate, needful quality to his touch, though he only rests his fingertips on her forearm at first. "I'm sorry you aren't feeling well."

"Two? Wha— That…" But Jack is there, slipping between the sheets and summoning her. In his gentleness, Trina relinquishes her suspicion and instead rolls over so that she can snuggle against him and find her place against his side. It isn't until she's nestled in his arm with her one hand resting lightly upon his chest that she worries about talking again. She peers up at him from there, brow crinkling as she apologizes. "I'm sorry, sugar. I really didn't mean to sleep so long. Why didn't you wake me up? I woulda got up."

"Shhhhh." There's a thickness in Jack's voice as he gathers his lady love into his arms and cradles her against his chest. "S'okay. You needed to sleep for a while. I'm here, though." He turns his face to the side so he can rest his cheek against Trina's soft, tousled hair. He heaves in a deep, unsteady breath and inhales her muzzy, girly scent. "Love you, baby."

She too heaves a deep breath, though hers is a smooth passage of air as Trina settles in. He may not cure her ills with his presence, but he does at least make it seem less uncomfortable. "And I love you, Jack." There's a pause as the young woman traces through his shirt to outline muscle briefly, only to curl a little of the cotton into her grip. "You… You didn't go out while I was sleepin', right, baby? You stayed here?"

"Of course I did," Jack lies smoothly. He drags his fingers through Trina's hair and pulls it away from her face so he can lean down and brush a light, playful kiss against the tip of her nose. "I wouldn't do that to you. And I'm sorry I acted crazy yesterday. Thanks for taking such good care of me." Another nuzzling kiss, this time against her cheek.

Jack's saying all the right things; Trina doesn't even hesitate to let her lips curl up into an easy smile under his deceptive ministrations. How easily he lulls her into the quiet calm. How well he knows her. "I forgive you," she offers as her whispered reply to the first. "And of course. You know I'd do just 'bout anything for you. But… but in the mornin', we gotta talk. 'Bout what happened. 'Bout what we're gonna do. This was bad, baby, and we gotta figure it out. But we don't gotta do it right now. I reckon you're pretty wiped." She, after all, is the one getting up. He's been up all day.

"Of course," Jack agrees again. Strong arms pull her even closer into a familiar, protective embrace. The better part of a minute passes while he just holds Trina. No words that would only be lies. Just a desperate attempt at non-verbal communication.

Don't leave me.

"Stay in bed with me?" he asks her quietly. "If you're not feeling good, you don't have to get up either."

Jack clings, and Trina clings right back. Her grip on his shirt becomes something tighter, her hand becoming like a vice as it holds on as though he would disappear if she's let her grip slacken at all. She looks back up at Jack, eyes narrowed slightly into slits that betray her headache but smile never more fond. There is, however, that bit of dread that lingers in the corners, fed by the doubt that hangs over them, unspoken. "There ain't nowhere I'd rather be," she decides to say, stretching up to catch Jack's lips with her own. "'Less you need me to get you somethin'."

He just shakes his head. "Nuh-uh," he insists. "Just stay and cuddle with me."

It's not an uncommon occurance, but it's uncommon for Jack to request it so solemnly. He nuzzles his face into the crook of Trina's neck and shoulder as if he might be able to hide from the whole world. There one heavy, heaving sigh, and then another before his breathing settles into a calmer, more relaxed rhythm.

"Okay, baby." Besides, it's 2am, and there really isn't anything she can think of that she'd want to do more than lie here. When Jack nestles against her, her arm instinctively moves to wrap about him. Fingers find their way into his hair, lightly running through it and returning the soothing favor of an assuring stroke. This calm. Everything is easier in the wordless calm. Jack, after all, isn't the only one who is hiding in it. Her eyes, however, betray her. They look past Jack's head with a long-off stare that seems to see well-beyond the wall in front of it. His breath deepens. Hers becomes more shallow and hushed.

2am. She can't believe that she slept until 2am, knowing that Jack was in withdrawl. It was stupid. Careless. She should have set the alarm to be sure.

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