I lose myself.
And throughout it all, one thought stays:this is what it’s like for him all the time.
I thought I knew. But as the world spins and spins and every nerve in my body screams in protest, I realise I had no idea.
Sometime later, I open my eyes and Jack is still there, holding me, watching me, guarding me. It feels as though other people are there too, but I only see him. And his eyes…they don’t leave me, not even as someone shifts behind him. When they step around him and do something that makes a machine beep. I have every ounce of his colossal Gallagher focus.
And he has mine, for what it’s worth as the pain fades a little and memories slide back in. Patchy, but clear enough that my stomach flips again, and this time it isn’t the bellyful of sea water rinsing through me. It’s hurt and guilt and the weight of a ten-ton truth I dropped on Jack before this happened.
“You’re angry.” It scrapes out of me from the pits of hell. “Aren’t you?”
A pause stretches thin as Jack stares me down.
Then he speaks and what’s left of my world splinters into a thousand pieces. “Yes.”
Yes.That’s it. All we have. And it isn’t him lacking, it’s me. I think I faint. And I know I get sick. Next thing I know I’m in a different place and I have Mal for company instead.
We’re in a room.
There’s no window which I know must be killing him, but he’s watching me with the same solid warmth his brother did, and even though I already miss Jack I’m so grateful he’s here I’d cry if I had the energy.
As it is, I can barely sit up, even with his help.
“Jack’s fine.” Mal holds a cup of water to my mouth for me to drink. “He’s getting some sleep.”
“Where?”
Somehow, I know he hasn’t gone home.
“Would you deck me if I told you I don’t fucking know? I left him with Folk.”
Something settles in me at that. Folk’s good people. My heart knows he’ll take as much care of Jack as Jack will allow.
He’s angry.
Jack, not Folk.
Deep, rolling sickness washes over me, but though it feels like drowning all over again, I force it down and try to focus on Mal.
“How’s Oscar?”
“Sleeping it off three rooms that way.” Mal jabs a finger in the air. It should probably mean something, but I don’t get it, and he softens as he sees that. “He’s had a rough time. Being diabetic made everything that happened to you a thousand times worse for him. But he got through it and he’s going to be okay. Matis and River are looking after him.”
“Jack—”
“He’s solid,” Mal interrupts with only a trace of impatience. “And if he’s not, he’s in the right place, eh?”
Can’t argue with that. Literally. Figuratively. Whatever. I drift for a while before I remember to ask about Skylar.
“Working downstairs.” Mal’s face tells me all I need to know about how he feels about that. “It’s only a half shift, but he’s been with Oscar since you came in, so I’m hoping he’ll go home after.”
“He’s not going to leave without you.”
“I know, and I’m not leaving without Jack, and he won’t leave without you, so…”
“Hmm.” I’m so tired my tongue feels too big for my mouth. My head is thick and heavy and I wonder if I’m going to be sick again, even though I barely remember the first time…times?Gods, I have no idea. “Are you okay?”
Mal gives me a dry look. “Aye, Sol. Everyone’s fucking fine except you.”