[One cycle, two cycles, another, another - they pass without an appreciable change or any show of resistance, faintly blue lips parted in silent invitation, eyes a sliver of paleness under half-fallen eyelids. Minutes crawl along before the a ripple of intention rises up him and he rasps lowly after a breath, something that isn't even a gasp but crescendoes rapidly into a gag, then convulsive coughing that he curls into in hitching, hard jerks.
The world bursts like flavour on the tongue, like sound into silence and all Jack knows is that there's something there, something warm and close and bowed around him that he twists toward desperately. There's a blind, airless panic behind him, blackness grasping for him that only solidity can keep at bay.]
Day 6
The world bursts like flavour on the tongue, like sound into silence and all Jack knows is that there's something there, something warm and close and bowed around him that he twists toward desperately. There's a blind, airless panic behind him, blackness grasping for him that only solidity can keep at bay.]