[ He told Charles he wasn't going anywhere...but fine. The doorway is fine. Jack sneaks up and out of the living room, snatching that necklace and shoving it in his pocket for...some reason? A pirate's addiction to shiny things and sleight of hand? Petty revenge? Who knows.
Slowly, quietly, he opens the door and steps outside, closing the door with the softest click he can muster. ]
It's handled already, Anne. He's asleep. Until Hickey gets back, at least.
I didn't come here to fucking handle it. Came here to talk to you.
[ Of course, now she's here she doesn't quite know what to say. Her arms folded tightly over her chest, she just watches him for a few seconds, jaw working as she filches through her mind for the right words. ]
[ He presses his ear to the door behind him, and motions a downward press with his hand – keep it down, please. ]
It means just that. No drugs, no outside force throwing me into his bed. We both wanted it.
[ Jack speaks softly, pursing his lips, shifting his jaw back and forth. He can admit it to Anne, even if, despite her insistence that there’s nothing wrong with him, this whole thing is making him feel like he’s completely lost his head. If he has, then at least he’s not taking the Vane route of getting himself beat up over it. If that is, indeed, what his problem is. ]
If that’s what’s disturbing him, that he’s bent to the will of this place all on his own...I can’t help him with that. Can't very well take it back, can I?
[ Anne gives him a Look. It's a little withering, her lips pursed, a kind of earned weariness in her eyes. She lowers her voice another notch or two, stepping closer to him. ]
[ She kind of wants to hit him. Not really, not enough to hurt, just to knock a little bit of sense into his head. There's too much else clogging up his brain, that must be it. He's finally reached critical mass in there and he can't take in any new information. That's why he's acting like such a fucking idiot. ]
Stop talking like you don't want any of this, first of fucking all. Maybe the first time you couldn't see straight, but it ain't like you didn't fucking like it. Ain't like you never would've wanted it if it wasn't for whatever they put in the air. And second, pretending it ain't gonna happen again and that you're just gonna leave it in the past is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever fucking heard, and you ain't stupid, so I know you know that, somewhere in here. [ And she pauses to lift a hand and rap Jack's temple firmly with her finger like she's trying to wake him up. ] This is your fucking life now, both of you. You've known him for years, you trust him, and I know for a fact you thought about him like that before we even got here, even if you never acted on it until now. Stop thinking about it like it's a mistake you both keep making. Let it fucking happen. Make something out of it. Ain't doing either of you any good talking around it like it's an unsaid thing. And I'm sick of you two acting like a pair of fucking cunts about it, so it ain't doing me any good either. What the fuck are you scared of, Jack?
[ It's rare, that he earns such a thorough tongue lashing from her. They both know she can get most grievances across with a squint and a fuck you, Jack, so to really tear into him like that means something. Since he knows that, he lets her finish without butting in, despite the heavy temptation.
He has to take a breath first, to keep his voice down, keep his hands twisting at his sleeves so he doesn't start banging them around. ]
Make something of it? You think it's so simple for me, to feel something and just run with it? To feel like that about anyone, other than you? Do you think I enjoy carving out space, in the half of me that is you, and giving it away to someone else? Now, I've made my peace with how easy it was for you, but it's not that fucking easy for me.
[ Jack bounces on his heels, putting on a good show of being angry and spiteful, but she's got him pegged right. It's fear, but not of Charles. ]
And you have the balls to snarl at me about it, as if it isn't plainly apparent. What am I scared of, Anne? It's not Charles. I'm scared of what happens to us, if you don't need me anymore, and I don't need you.
[ It's like a slap in the face; she practically recoils from the words, her face crumpling a little, but it's like her own words need a moment to catch up with her. ] The way you feel ain't my fucking fault. Don't talk to me like it is.
[ That's the first thing out of the way, the thing that can be said and then put aside. Now she has to look at the meat of it, which almost makes her sick to think about. It's a physical feeling, like she's going to throw up her lunch, and on top of it all she's struck suddenly by the urge to cry. She can feel it burning at the back of her throat.
It wasn't easy for her. With Max, it was never easy. Leaving Jack's side while he was sleeping felt like betraying him with every step, and when he'd come in after them she'd felt for a suspended moment like she was made of fine china, fragile and breakable and split seconds away from shattering. All he ever wanted was for her to be happy, that's what he'd said, but she still feels as if reparations are owed. She'll never have paid him back for that, but it's an ugly thing, to look at what they are to each other and see it only as a series of transactions, life paid back and forth.
But he has to know it wasn't easy for her. He's only saying otherwise now because he's upset, his rope's frayed near to breaking. He doesn't know what to think. He's worried that admitting to himself how he feels about this thing with Charles is going to break something between him and her, the two of them.
She's not angry with him any more. Never was, not really. She'd been angry for him, for his confusion and for the alienation she knows they're both feeling in their own ways. And the truth is that she can't be jealous of whatever's brewing between him and Charles, and she never will be, because its existence is just another reason the two of them are the same. ]
Nothing happens to us. D'you hear me? [ She steps close, reaching up to slide her hand to the back of his neck, into the familiar curl of his hair, and pushes up a little onto her toes so she can push her forehead right against his, so he has nowhere else to look. ] You ain't giving anything away. I decide how much of me is in you, same as you decide how much of you is in me. And as far as I'm concerned, that ain't something either of us can give away. Not now.
[ He leans down so she doesn't have to balance on her toes, so he can absorb every bit on gentleness on offer. For as long as he lives, he'll be grateful that she can see through him like this, get to the roots of him before he has time to spin out too far. If there's ever a time he wishes he had a wall she couldn't slip around, they're overriden by times like these, where she sees the things in him that even he can't, and so fucking clearly.
He sniffs once, and shakes it off. ]
I'll take it to heart, I will. But he needs some time to calm down, I'm not having my face busted open next in the interest of speeding this along.
[ Jack kisses her forehead, and leans back from her, just now wondering after three months living here and two of knowing what a camera is, if there are any watching these hallways. ]
How the fuck did you do it, without driving yourself mad?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Slowly, quietly, he opens the door and steps outside, closing the door with the softest click he can muster. ]
It's handled already, Anne. He's asleep. Until Hickey gets back, at least.
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[ Of course, now she's here she doesn't quite know what to say. Her arms folded tightly over her chest, she just watches him for a few seconds, jaw working as she filches through her mind for the right words. ]
Fuck d'you mean, there's no excuse for it?
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It means just that. No drugs, no outside force throwing me into his bed. We both wanted it.
[ Jack speaks softly, pursing his lips, shifting his jaw back and forth. He can admit it to Anne, even if, despite her insistence that there’s nothing wrong with him, this whole thing is making him feel like he’s completely lost his head. If he has, then at least he’s not taking the Vane route of getting himself beat up over it. If that is, indeed, what his problem is. ]
If that’s what’s disturbing him, that he’s bent to the will of this place all on his own...I can’t help him with that. Can't very well take it back, can I?
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Jesus. You two ain't talked about shit, have you?
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[ He leans back against the door with a frustrated sigh, crossing his arms with his brow creased. Anxious. ]
It happened again, two days ago. He's been avoiding me since, so don't look at me like that. It's him.
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[ She kind of wants to hit him. Not really, not enough to hurt, just to knock a little bit of sense into his head. There's too much else clogging up his brain, that must be it. He's finally reached critical mass in there and he can't take in any new information. That's why he's acting like such a fucking idiot. ]
Stop talking like you don't want any of this, first of fucking all. Maybe the first time you couldn't see straight, but it ain't like you didn't fucking like it. Ain't like you never would've wanted it if it wasn't for whatever they put in the air. And second, pretending it ain't gonna happen again and that you're just gonna leave it in the past is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever fucking heard, and you ain't stupid, so I know you know that, somewhere in here. [ And she pauses to lift a hand and rap Jack's temple firmly with her finger like she's trying to wake him up. ] This is your fucking life now, both of you. You've known him for years, you trust him, and I know for a fact you thought about him like that before we even got here, even if you never acted on it until now. Stop thinking about it like it's a mistake you both keep making. Let it fucking happen. Make something out of it. Ain't doing either of you any good talking around it like it's an unsaid thing. And I'm sick of you two acting like a pair of fucking cunts about it, so it ain't doing me any good either. What the fuck are you scared of, Jack?
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He has to take a breath first, to keep his voice down, keep his hands twisting at his sleeves so he doesn't start banging them around. ]
Make something of it? You think it's so simple for me, to feel something and just run with it? To feel like that about anyone, other than you? Do you think I enjoy carving out space, in the half of me that is you, and giving it away to someone else? Now, I've made my peace with how easy it was for you, but it's not that fucking easy for me.
[ Jack bounces on his heels, putting on a good show of being angry and spiteful, but she's got him pegged right. It's fear, but not of Charles. ]
And you have the balls to snarl at me about it, as if it isn't plainly apparent. What am I scared of, Anne? It's not Charles. I'm scared of what happens to us, if you don't need me anymore, and I don't need you.
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[ That's the first thing out of the way, the thing that can be said and then put aside. Now she has to look at the meat of it, which almost makes her sick to think about. It's a physical feeling, like she's going to throw up her lunch, and on top of it all she's struck suddenly by the urge to cry. She can feel it burning at the back of her throat.
It wasn't easy for her. With Max, it was never easy. Leaving Jack's side while he was sleeping felt like betraying him with every step, and when he'd come in after them she'd felt for a suspended moment like she was made of fine china, fragile and breakable and split seconds away from shattering. All he ever wanted was for her to be happy, that's what he'd said, but she still feels as if reparations are owed. She'll never have paid him back for that, but it's an ugly thing, to look at what they are to each other and see it only as a series of transactions, life paid back and forth.
But he has to know it wasn't easy for her. He's only saying otherwise now because he's upset, his rope's frayed near to breaking. He doesn't know what to think. He's worried that admitting to himself how he feels about this thing with Charles is going to break something between him and her, the two of them.
She's not angry with him any more. Never was, not really. She'd been angry for him, for his confusion and for the alienation she knows they're both feeling in their own ways. And the truth is that she can't be jealous of whatever's brewing between him and Charles, and she never will be, because its existence is just another reason the two of them are the same. ]
Nothing happens to us. D'you hear me? [ She steps close, reaching up to slide her hand to the back of his neck, into the familiar curl of his hair, and pushes up a little onto her toes so she can push her forehead right against his, so he has nowhere else to look. ] You ain't giving anything away. I decide how much of me is in you, same as you decide how much of you is in me. And as far as I'm concerned, that ain't something either of us can give away. Not now.
no subject
[ He leans down so she doesn't have to balance on her toes, so he can absorb every bit on gentleness on offer. For as long as he lives, he'll be grateful that she can see through him like this, get to the roots of him before he has time to spin out too far. If there's ever a time he wishes he had a wall she couldn't slip around, they're overriden by times like these, where she sees the things in him that even he can't, and so fucking clearly.
He sniffs once, and shakes it off. ]
I'll take it to heart, I will. But he needs some time to calm down, I'm not having my face busted open next in the interest of speeding this along.
[ Jack kisses her forehead, and leans back from her, just now wondering after three months living here and two of knowing what a camera is, if there are any watching these hallways. ]
How the fuck did you do it, without driving yourself mad?