lucetilogs | TERRACE Draft

You do that, I need to keep this shirt clean as long as possible since we can't really wash them here. Can't have your man tears all over it.

[Briefly he indulged himself in the idea of washing clothing once they'd gotten back, wearing something that didn't have the reek of nearly a week's worth of work in it. Finding the switch, he turned to look at Jack just a split-second before forcing the lever down, waiting to appear to be marginally impressed with Jack's handiwork]

[Jack laughs. It's low at first, a har har very funny chuckle for Eugene's grousing, but quickly rises into a bright, ecstatic sound of triumph with the first purr and thrum of machinery coming back online.]

Ha! I think that-

[The sentence, the word, Jack's voice - they all stop in the lightning instant that too many things happen, the same instant when the world shuts off as neatly as a circuit being cut. It's a silent, reflex-fast thing, no flash of light or crackle or scream. Just one minute Jack crowing delight for the generator, and the next his crouched shape straightening so violently he tumbles backwards, landing with a dull thud against the stones in front of the once-more-rumbling generator.

He's frozen for a moment, quivering-tense, staring sightlessly at the wall. And then, like it's the simplest thing in the world, he sinks into perfect, pale stillness.]

[None of that was expected-- from the abrupt cut-off of Jack's voice to the sudden burst of him not where he was before, and Jack wasn't the only one left still and-- well dumbstruck. Though Eugene wasn't very much thinking about what happened or why, just moving, stumbling on his way forward but catching himself.

JACK!

Safety be damned, some things couldn't be helped in the heat of the moment and if it had to be him yelling Jack's name, so be it. there wasn't anything between that name and when he was suddenly kneeling by Jack-- eyes wide and hesitant to touch because if it was a shock, he could still be--]

No, no, nonono, Jack, don't do this, don't--

[Grabbing his wrist he pressed two fingers under his thumb, heart in his throat as he waited for a pulse, a breath, something!]

[That's the moment where he should let his breath out in a great grinning rush, where he should start chortling and roll onto his back and exclaim that Eugene is so completely gullible, who the hell gets shocked leaning on a casing? It's the moment where he should get pummelled and yelp and squirm and pull Eugene into kisses until he relents because he did it, they're done-

But he doesn't. There's no laughing or speaking when he's not even breathing, and if there's a pulse under Eugene's fingers, it's not nearly strong enough to feel past panic-jittery hands.]

[Admittedly he'd waited for that moment, hesitating a bit before he felt like something had caved in within him and he literally couldn't draw in a breath for several moments, mind flitting around in whatshouldIdowhatshouldI--

Abruptly he dropped his ear down near Jack's mouth, listening, watching for a rise of his chest, the hiss of air, but nothing. Fighting panic, he settled back on the training that everyone in Abel had been required to learn and thankfully Jack was already on his back]

I will not let you go, dammit, d'you hear me?

[Bravado aside, he wasn't even going to entertain the idea of Jack not coming home with him, temporary death aside, it wasn't something he would ever be ready or willing, to cope with. And if Jack was still joking, he'd regret it in short order because his head was being tilted to clear his airway, mouth descending down to blow air into him--

And if Jack was joking, this would be the last moment to do it.]

[The generator, at least, seemed to be running fine. It churned along at a dull roar, enough to obliterate the hiss of trapped air escaping, the sigh of new breath pushing in against the soft resistance of heavy ribs and unhelpfully still diaphragm.

Nothing. Conspicuous, uncanny nothing - not even the familiar jerks and twitches of the dying. Which might be some comfort, or might not.]

[The lack of response made him-- angry, though he couldn't really call it just that. It was a jumble of a bunch of mixed things that he couldn't write down, but that was the least of his concerns right now. Straightening, he clasped one hand over the other and began some chest compressions, keeping a mental count before bending down, breathing into him again]

Jack, c'mon, we have been through too much to have this do you in, and it'll be my fault and I can't-- I can't.

[Proceeds to repeat the process, reaching up to try and feel a flutter or a pulse or something along his neck. The thought of calling for help did cross his mind, but that would require moving to the car and he wasn't about to leave Jack's side. Not if this...

Not if this would be the last time he saw him.]

C'mon, Jack, we just lost Zevran, I can't lose you, too. Don't leave me here like this, dummy you know how I--

[The crack in his voice is audible and he could hear the wet that preceded grief, but he couldn't be bothered to worry about that right now, stooping in for another breath.]

[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.]

[A tightness had been building in his own chest at the lack of response-- Jack was lively, he was full of it, where had it all gone in the span of an instant-- a horrible instant that he wanted to take back and redo and never ever make the same mistake again. The back of his throat felt too open but he couldn't breathe down enough to make this work, and his world was unwravelling right under his hands and he couldn't grasp hold and make it stop--

Coming down to do another breath, however, caught him off guard when he noticed movement, hyperaware of the lack of, though the rumbling of the generator obscured the initial gag. The relief he feels is dizzying, and he bends down to wrap his arms tight around Jack and hold on. It did inadvertently cause him to lose his balance but he held fast, arms trembling with adrenaline and effort]

You stupid-- jerk-- asshole don't ever do th-- for god's sake I was-- oh god I am so fucking sorry, I didn't mean for--

[This might come back to tease him but right now he didn't care about that-- would gladly accept the shame if it meant that Jack would be there to dish it out.

[Movement is almost impossible, limbs clumsy and fingers impossible things, but Jack somehow manages a tight grasp that finds chest and shirt and Eugene, the thing enfolding him is Eugene and stability and home and please God stay please please please-

A hard sob wrenches and croaks out of him, and he trembles with the effort of pressing his face into Eugene's collarbone, half-aware and barely conscious but painfully certain that this, this is the cornerstone upon which the world rests, these arms and that voice and the shirt he's making hot-wet with tears.]

Oh God- [It hurts, speaking and breathing and all of it, and he gives an incoherent, cut-short noise of pain before stubbornly bulling forward.] Eugene-

Edited 2013-03-31 05:48 (UTC)

I really was kidding about the tears thing okay, just don't leave me... Just breathe, okay?

[Terrifying didn't even begin to cover what he'd just gone through-- and that was likely twicefold for Jack, who sounded like he was in pain. Careful in rubbing his back, Eugene worked his way up to sitting, petting the back of Jack's head with one hand]

Jack, hey... listen to me and answer honest. Promise me?

[The clumsiness had him worried, worried about a multitude of things he didn't understand and didn't know if they'd go back to right or... or whatever, so he brought his hands up to hold Jack's face in an effort to help him focus.]

Where are you hurt and can you make it to the car? I don't want a joke, I want the truth.

[Words only make half-sense, like hearing them through water, and Jack's best effort at focusing his eyes on Eugene's face still wavers in and out of exhausted, drunken focus. He's still breathing hard and slightly uneven, and he turns his mouth into Eugene's hand after several seconds, shaking his head in silent denial.]

Dunno.

[Hell, he's tired. He's tired and everything hurts and he just wants to lay down with Eugene and sleep.]

[Never once in his life had he been so glad to hear a viable response to something he'd said, the hope being Jack was cognizant, and Eugene was latching onto that hard. The abrupt heaviness of Jack's body however-- was he... trying to lie down? He genuinely looked to be in pain, which brought him back to the fact he'd probably just been shocked-- or as close to electrocuted as one could get.]

Hey! No--nope! Jack. [Old habits died hard and he wasn't even sure if keeping Jack awake now was essential but he wasn't going to risk finding out if it wasn't. Using his sternest tone, he shook him a little, working to snap him out of it.]

Eyes on me. Stay awake. I know it hurts, but it'll be okay so long as you don't fall asleep.

[What Jack really needed was to get to their car, driven back to the medics, because belatedly he'd noticed the burn on Jack's arm and he thought he felt his heart drop into his stomach. Shifting to press his weight on his good side, Eugene wrapped an arm around Jack and worked to haul him up. The position precarious, he was fairly certain some of this strength wasn't really his, he was taking it out on loan with interest on adrenaline.

He'd pay it back later, right now he needed to get Jack into the car at least]

C'mon, up!

[There's a noise from Jack that might be a groan of discomfort or might be a mutter of 'wanker,' and he winces with the shake, curling further into himself and the shallow pain that lances into his chest with every movement. It keeps him awake, though - as much as his current state can be called something like wakefulness - and he tries to cooperate with Eugene's orders. It's the tone that does it. Eugene never uses that sort of tone unless things are honestly serious, and he squints his eyes open to watch as Eugene manhandles him around and starts pulling him up.

It drags a stab of irritation out of him, because he doesn't want to be on his feet. He wants to be on the ground with Eugene, where everything is warm and still and safe. He wants to rest, anywhere, just lay down and sleep.

But Eugene's determined, and he pushes his way to his feet clumsily, leaning heavily on Eugene as the world spins and threatens to pitch into blackness again. He buries his face in his neck, shuddering as his stomach threatens to rebel and feeling the confused impulse escape as another excruciating cough.]

Gene. Can't run like this. [They have to run, don't they? From . . . from something that wants to hurt them, to kill them. That's the shape of the world, he's briefly sure, though the thought comes curiously detached from the usual attendant fear.]

[Cranky or not, Eugene was going to haul Jack over to the car, come hell or high water. The sudden deadweight as Jack wavered nearly toppled him over-- his balance with his crutch was already spotty just for himself, but Jack's movement was unpredictable which made compensating all the more torublesome. Still, with a grunt of effort, they were both standing and making their way to the car.

We're not running, we have a car.

[Keeping up conversation at this juncture is good, and he's already working open the passenger side door before flopping Jack unceremoniously on the seat]

In the car, hurry up. Can't run, so we'll drive.

[To the medics-- so that they can tell him for certain just how much he's damaged his boyfriend. Moving as quickly as his wings and crutch will carry him he climbs into the driver's side and helps to haul Jack in if he can't manage on his own yet. And very distantly keeping panic at bay, oddly detached and just focusing on the movements instead of what was actually happening. He could break down later, now wasn't the time.]

[They move in a clumsy tumble of limbs and crutch, Jack trying to remember what even walking under his own power involves, let alone walking with Eugene. It's by some minor miracle that he finds himself deposited on the seat in a jolt that draws a grimace of pain from him, and he curls against Eugene weakly as he joins him, trying again to just close his eyes and go to sleep. When he's sleeping he doesn't care that his limbs aren't obeying him, or that the world's spinning in disconnected pieces, or that it hurts even to breathe.

And Eugene's here. That means things will be all right, he's sure.]

Hey, oi, Jack--

[Hastily shutting his door and inserting the keys, turning the engine over, he hauled Jack to an upright sitting position. Even if he was leaning heavily on him, he could use this angle to pat hard at his face to keep his wits about him]

If you fall asleep our marriage is over, you hear me?

[Not that he was in any way serious-- unless it did result in Jack's death, but he wasn't ready for that. Turning to look around them he hurriedly shifted into drive, tugging on Jack's ear in a way he was sure to be painful]

Ended. You will be sleeping on the couch in your dumb boxers alone and no bed in breakfast.

[They would still have these things, together, if Jack made it. The pounding of Eugene's heart was kicked into high gear, but part of him... was beginning to think maybe Jack might just pull through. He was resilient in all the right ways, this... wouldn't...be the exception...]

[Jack almost, almost manages to get to sleep, he's sure of it. Then Eugene is badgering his face and mumbling more of those talking-through-water words that Jack finds himself being dragged back up towards, until he breaks the surface in a start and a shiver and a vaguely air-hungry gasp that triggers another round of ragged coughing. There are tears in his eyes when he finally finishes, panting again, still uneven but a little stronger.]

M'not hungry. [He mutters thickly and without conviction, glancing tiredly up at Eugene. This is hardly the time to be talking about food, he thinks.]

Edited 2013-04-08 04:21 (UTC)

You're never not hungry.

[Those coughs were enough to leave him cringing, causing his heart rate to jump as Jack worked through them. They were a good sign, though, right? The kind that indicated he was breathing when he hadn't been-- full stop on that train of thought, eyes on the road.]

You can't possibly turn down my cooking, it's against the rules.

[No, now was the best time to talk about things that could potentially annoy Jack-- keep him awake and talking to him.]

So-- what's the last thing you remember? Please tell me it's when Loki stowed away and caught us making out.

[Jack's absolutely certain he's not hungry - if anything, he feels vaguely ill, and the jostling of the vehicle is not helping. How absolutely like Eugene to talk about food at the least appealing times.

He keeps talking, though he closes his eyes again, retreating that little bit from the pain and tingling numbness that's overtaken his body.]

No, dolt, that was . . . what, days ago. [Where had today left off - he has to think a moment before questioning uncertainly, too far gone to even be worried about how hard it is to conjure that memory.] Clint and Natasha, I guess . . .

Clint and Natasha? [Picture Eugene trying to throw back his memory to recall even that and feeling brief panic when he wasn't entirely sure if that actually occurred. Taking a moment to peer over Jack he tried to locate what injuries, if any, that he could actually see.]

Days ago, huh? So you're not feeling so good right now, yeah? Tell me what's the worst of it?

[He'd have him focus on the pain if necessary, if it kept Jack from drifting off and away from him... he'd do anything. He swore a little as he had to swerve to avoid toppling into a crater left behind by some explosion, holding onto Jack as though his life depended on it]

And when did you see Natasha? I've only heard of her, is she cute?

[If Eugene's talking is vaguely disconnected, Jack doesn't really notice enough to care. The only problem, as far as he's concerned, is that Eugene keeps asking so many questions, and putting together answers is annoying and difficult and tiring to even think about. Everything is lit up in various shades of hurting, and he doesn't know how to describe any of it. Natasha is pretty, he supposes, but the question is so much like teasing that he just gives a low chuff of a noise and curls into Eugene again, dimly hoping that he'll be allowed to nap now that Eugene's gotten his pestering and teasing out of the way. He is in love with such an annoying guy.]

Jack, I'm not kidding, stop trying to sleep!

[Fear was prompting him to sound angry, tugging on Jack's ear sharply enough to cause discomfort, but he really wasn't looking to hurt him further.

The ride hadn't been smooth, but Eugene hadn't been going for comfort over speed. So the gradual slowing that came wasn't something that he'd been anticipating. In fact, the spluttering sound from the engine briefly drew his attention away from Jack and he felt something sinking in his stomach.]

No. No, no, nonono don't do this...

[This was something he couldn't wrap his head around right now, though his answer was quickly solved when he saw the fuel gauge teetering under the E. They'd planned on refueling just after they got to the generator-- and the fuel was in the back where Jack would be able to reach easily for it and--

And he didn't have time as a luxury right now.]

You've got to be fucking kidding me. Jack? Sit up, dammit! C'mon, I need you to... to keep an eye out while I refuel, okay?

Edited 2013-04-27 21:10 (UTC)

Ow-

[It was more of a hiss than a word, but Jack straightened, opening his eyes and blinking in the light. They were stopping. They were stopping and Eugene still looked sort of freaked-out, and Jack thought in a dim, giggly corner of his mind Behold, Eugene Woods, Death of Automobiles. It seemed silly, in a distant and tired way. Eugene always breaking cars. Eugene cursing so much.]

God, you're in a temper today.

[He muttered as he sat up vaguely, still favouring his arm, movements slow and clumsy as he leaned back in the seat and looked up at Eugene with an oddly cogent 'well, get on with it' lift of his eyebrows.]

[The relief he felt when Jack sat up and responded was completely counter-intuitive, or maybe it would be for Jack. Eugene felt a little dizzy with the relief, even if he knew this wasn't the end of it.]

Yeah, just-- stay up, stay sitting up and don't sleep or I'll hit you.

[He couldn't sound completely angry, and the improvement gave him some confidence to let Jack out of his sight while he opened the back door and rifled through the footspace to find their petrol container. Haulign that out, he spared Jack one last glance before heading to refill the tank.

This in itself wasn't without some risk-- still out of range of anyone nearby and without much in the way of protection, they were sitting ducks like this. It was that which prompted him to lean his hip against the car as he poured the gas into it.]

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