lucetilogs | TERRACE Draft

[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.]

[Silently, Jack turned his head and twisted a little, watching Eugene work. Any promises that Eugene would hit him were forgotten as he listened to the sound of the wind, the faint glug-glug-glug of the petrol leaving the can, the sound of his own breath moving roughly in his throat.

He had the dim impression that he was hurt, beyond the sharp stinging at the side of his forearm, beyond the way his chest ached and screamed with the terrible insult of simply breathing. His mouth tasted wrong, he was exhausted, he was stinging pins and needles over what felt like half of his skin.

But he had Eugene. And Eugene was the last thing to persist in his vision, when he relaxed and let himself rest.]

[Scanning the horizon after a quick peek at Jack, Eugene was straining to see if anything might be approaching through the nearby thicket of woods or if they'd come crashing through the trees above. At least they had the benefit of some cover, but that also meant he might not see their attackers, first. But finally, the petrol can was lighter than the plastic that it comprised of, and he quickly capped the tank.

Wasting no time, he tossed the can into the back seat and forcibly hauled himself up behind the wheel, slamming the door after him. It would all have been fine and good had it not just hit him hard when he realized Jack wasn't making a sound.

His blood turned icy when he looked over and saw his eyes shut, heart pounding too fast and the world feeling too light and bright.]

Jack?

[Catches himself speaking too softly before he leaned over and took hold of one shoulder, shaking him. Fate wouldn't be so cruel to have him alive and chattering only for a few minutes after that kind of shock, but a part of his mind was already preparing for the worst...]

Jack!

[Whatever part of Jack heard Eugene, it didn't reach deep enough to inspire him to open his eyes, even as the shake brought him heavily down against Eugene's shoulder. It wasn't anything terrible - just his name, just Eugene's voice, and then the warmth that he sighed and shifted into with a soft sound of relief.]

Jack Holden! [His voice cracked but he didn't care, not when everything in his world was condensing down into Jack and how his eyes weren't opening. Controlling his panic was hard when he'd already partly given in to the desire to do just that but he pressed his fingers to Jack's neck, feeling for a pulse there. It... may be his own mounting terror but it just wasn't like he remembered it being. Gripping Jack's face with both hands he spoke with his forehead pressed against him, a stern look covering up the fear threatening to boil over inside.]

Do not leave me here alone, do you hear me? I'm not letting you go...! Please don't--

[He felt too warm, but he brushed it off as his heart pounding faster than if he were terrified for his own life. Oddly, he felt an out of place calm settle over him, albeit briefly, before he turned back to the wheel and turned the engine. The best thing for Jack now was to get him to safety, to Adele or a medic or someone who knew more about this than he did.

One arm slung over Jack's shoulders he tugged him close, driving with one hand on the wheel. There was a tremble in his arm, but a very determined drive in him, despite that. To focus on getting to help before it was too late. And if Jack did... die before he got to help, at least he... he wouldn't be alone. At least he tried his best... But with Zevran already gone, Eugene felt incredibly numb at this prospect.]

If you ever listen to me please just listen to me this one time... Don't die, Jack...

Edited 2013-05-06 04:23 (UTC)

[Everything was moving too much.

That was the first impression Jack had, after he couldn't say how long of drifting on the far side of unconsciousness, swaddled in the dim softness of the world blurred into vague and basic shapes. When he woke, the world seemed louder, uncomfortably brighter - and unspeakably more painful, every part of his body singing a different discordant note as they bumped and juttered along. He added an audible component to that symphony without intending to, a long groan muffled into Eugene's shoulder as he stretched and almost immediately gasped with the answering stab right to his breastbone.

The gasp, predictably, did not help, and he whined out a soft keen that tangled at the edges with a drunken oh bloody hell, reaching up to grasp Eugene's shirt and bury his face harder against him.]

[Moving, Jack was moving and he was moving on his own and he was okay-- or at least functioning enough that he was making sounds, too. The lurch when he stopped was nearly full on-- strong arms managing to keep Jack from toppling into the footrest below. The hug he gave him was brief, tight, and entirely necessary, though perhaps a bit painful for Jack]

Thank god you listened, dammit just don't-- Don't fall asleep.

[Pulling back a ways, he tried to catch Jack's attention, looking him over and trying to get a proper look at his eyes. The belated realization that stopping here wouldn't do either of them any good had him putting their vehicle back into drive, however, resuming pace when that odd, calming sensation filtered through the panic.]

Wh-what's wrong?

[The hard jerk drew another strangled noise from Jack, albeit a much less garbled and more coherent one, a sharp ngh-! of pain. But it was matched by a weak but undeniably present tensing of shoulders, a quivery hand tightening in Eugene's shirt to help brace him against the threat of falling. Lingeringly confused, he blinked up, into the sky-brightness and the dismaying sight of Eugene looking as harried and shattered as he'd ever seen him. He tried to straighten, wincing but keeping his gaze on Eugene.]

Aah, just- hurts. [The supporting arm is still appreciated, and he hisses through his teeth as he settles, frowning up at Eugene in perturbed bewilderment.] . . . are you crying?

I'm allergic to you, you doofus.

[Relief did flood through him when Jack asked something that would require recognition-- paying attention instead of simply responding to stimuli. The hurting... it would keep Jack from sleeping, or falling into a slumber, or so he hoped. And hope right now was a painful, but very compelling motivator.

Averting his face to the road with a small amount of shame, he focused on driving, recognizing the landscape and estimating they'd be near Adele or some form of help very shortly.]

Where's it hurt? Be specific, don't give me this all over whining.

Ow, fine. Be that way.

[Still half-tense with pain, he went back to burying half of his face against Eugene's shoulder, turning to the unwelcome task of actually focusing on the pain in order to say where it was. He tried to make his words minimal, helpful, swallowing back the throbbing, burning sensation as it flared with a draft of wind against angry nerves.]

Right arm. Right foot, a bit. And . . . I don't know. Like someone knocked me down and started kicking.

[The world was settling into place bit by bit, and he found more and more recent memories filtering in with dim recognition of their surroundings. They were supposed to be . . . working on a machine? Right, a generator, but not one of the ones from Abel. They were in Luceti and on a draft, had been for several days. That was it, the vague shape of it, though he found himself reaching for and mysteriously failing to grasp anything more specific.]

Did- did we finish the job yet?

The job is over, Jack.

[He's not arguing this either, staunchly stubborn in his decision. Especially considering that he isn't sure the extent of the damage, and that's what was eating him the most inside. The guilt at having been so cocky to think Jack would always be fine, that he was invincible, even when he knew just how human he really is.]

S-sorry about the chest thing, but I wasn't kicking you. You weren't breathing, I was... well. They made sure we all knew CPR so.

[Now they were nearing the medical facilities, passing a few draftees on the way and leaving them in his dust. He wasn't too keen on stopping right now, priorities of his firmly in place. He was a journalist, not a soldier, there wasn't any room to doubt his motivations.

Putting it in park, he turned to Jack and dragged him in close for a brief but sound kiss before turning and opening his door]

That's the only mouth to mouth I want to be giving you from now on.

[The near-silence of driving through the base afforded just enough time for that implication to filter through Jack's mind, down past the trauma-slowed processes and into the part of his brain that put together things just from suggestions. Eugene had-

He had been . . . and Eugene had-

Something in him pushed past the fear of the idea and tried to make it fit - the two of them as the people in those faceless hypothetical scenarios the doctor painted, the people who she insisted had to move fast, had to know they were going to be tired and frightened and pushing a good palm's breadth into ribs. Had to know that they were probably not going to succeed.

The quip was the absolute last straw, the thing that snapped his mind out of heart-thudding, panicky denial to desperation. Eugene turned and he lunged after him, a fling of weight and limbs that ended in a desperate crush of mouths, hands knotted so tight in Eugene's hair it had to hurt. But he wanted that, even trembling with the effort of giving it. He wanted to prove those thoughts a little less true, no matter what it took.]

[For this long he'd managed to hold most of it together-- at least on the outside, inside he was near-enough to falling apart he'd feel ashamed later. The kiss was abrupt, however, slightly painful against his scalp but the rough scrape of Jack's jaw, slightly chapped lips, and an edge of desperation combined in the right way to have him give in. And he did, both arms wrapping around him with a soft sound sent into Jack's mouth. He tipped his head and kissed him like a drowning man might seek air, frantic and full-bodied, giddy in how he seemed so much better now than minutes before. Had it only been minutes?

A wet sound stuck in the back of his throat and he gave out a shuddering breath through his nose. Relief so tangible that Jack might feel the suppressed sob that threatened. But reason and fear snuck up on him and he tried to pull away, to speak to Jack about how they shouldn't-- couldn't waste time because he was injured and Eugene wasn't sure how badly. He didn't make move to unwrap his arms from him, though, door still ajar.

At first he really couldn't bring himself to do it but his desire to keep Jack with him won over the need to kiss him silly.]

Just-- let Adele have a look at you, okay? I saw it h-happen, it wasn't your most... stellar moment.

[The sound didn't escape Jack, and it dug icy talons into him that he stubbornly buried in more kissing, until his fingers trembled and ribcage screamed at him and Eugene away as easily as if he were a kitten. He felt wretched, but he didn't want to leave the vehicle - not when Eugene was here, practically breaking down, so warm and immediate and needing him.

Reluctantly, he cropped his hands to curl around the back of his neck, meeting that look despite the way it made him feel even more cold and ill and unsure. He hadn't seen that face from Eugene since the first weeks of the outbreak, and the fact that he'd caused it only made the thing worse. Immeasurably worse. He swallowed, then nodded slightly, squeezing lightly at the knob of his spine.]

. . . yeah. All right, love.

[Love, he had to say love and it made his heart hurt in a way both wonderful and terrible. No way could he let off with that without one last kiss, something incredibly more tender than he would show in front of others. But needs must, and if he was worried that this would be the last time he ever kissed Jack properly, he wanted it to be a fond one.]

You--

[He began speaking when he pulled away, sliding onto his leg and hauling the crutch out from behind their seats]

are going to be just fine do you understand?

[Because maybe if he used the right tone enough Jack really would be alright. But who was he trying to convince, really? Jack, or himself. Calling over his shoulder for some help, he finally managed to wrench open Jack's door, reaching for him with one arm]

TERRACE Draft - Remaining Days

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