#Jack chambers fanfiction

[gumballavocadoharry]

I won't cry for yesterday (part 1); Jack Chambers:

*Mentions of death, grief, troubled relationships, dysfunctional family units, mental, emotional, physical abuse, PTSD, violence, abusive relationships, overprotective parenting, deep angst,  poor self image, attachment issues, marriage problems....etc..*

Jack would always remember that one winter in December. In fact, he knew he'd never forget it that one winter's day, when San Deigo weather held this polite chill in the air, but nothing more than just a thin jacket and maybe more bulky jeans than the summer and spring ones that were stored in the closet somewhere. A quiet early evening that smelled of a husky cigar smoke- not from Jack, but from when Dean was there only a few hours earlier, sitting on the couch, legs crossed talking about what their winter break plans where for the upcoming Christmas and the looming New Year's.

Jack could almost taste how that ham tasted that day. Rich, ripe and pure; fresh from the market, Alice took excellent pride in how she cooked it- simmering it just right for it to be tender- fall off the bone type like ribs, but stern enough for a squishy clean chew.

A letter had arrived around four that day. Jack only getting to it around six, once he returned home from the store. Alice placed it neatly on the table for when Jack would arrive and see that it still neat- unopened and crisp, like how a letter should be.

But something about this letter was different. It held a more mysterious linger than a bill or a empty advertisement for nothing. Opening it with shaky hands, Jack grasped the letter and read carefully through each line.

Dear Jack,

This is your mother, Lucy. I have to inform you that your father is very sick. He's been dignoised with stage four colon cancer and he doesn't have much time. Please come visit to say goodbye if you can. David really wants to see you one last time. 

Sincerely, 

Lucy.

Jack held the letter, carefully re-reading it, over and over, until he finally made contact with the address. The same New York hell shack he was forced to call home until age twenty. Licking his lips, Jack set the letter aside and thought for a moment. Should I? Rang through his mind like church bells. Sitting on the surface of his brain before mellowing into the depths of it, Jack felt lost. David, his father; father and son had a complicated history with each other and to pretend as if it still didn't exist or that the pain didn't live on inside of Jack- nesting its own little home inside of the corners of his mind- something he hated the most about his brain.

Jack swallowed hard, like he was forced to ingest a nasty liquid splashing over the back of his throat. Getting up, he met with the little liqour cabinet, pouring himself a scotch before taking it upstairs with him. Giving one last look to the card, Jack shook his head slightly before going upstairs. Somehow, he already made his decision. Besides....David was miles away in New York city and Jack was settled here in California. He would never make it in time....and he never thought to try.

*********************************************

"Alice," she stood at the stove flipping eggs and sasuages in the pan. "Yes?"

"The letter that came in the mail for me the other day.... it was... it was from my mother." Alice turned around. Dead in her tracks, spatula frozen mid air in her hand. "Lucy?"

"Yeah...."

"How did she find...... why did she send that letter?" Jack raised his brows a bit. "My father.... he's dying. He had colon cancer- last stages.... she wanted me to come to New York to say goodbye to him." Alice stared at Jack before he looked up at her, meeting her concerned eyes.

"I don't know if I can..." Alice swallowed. "I know.. it's.... well.... not something that was expected. At all." She set the spatula down, turned the knob of the stove- simmering down the flames- and sat across from Jack at the table. Placing a hand over his, she looked at him with her sweet cat eyes. "I know David was never the best father... at all. But... whatever you decide... I'll support you." Kissing his thumb, Alice turned and went back to the stove, finishing up breakfast. Jack stayed at the table, eyes locked on the placemat in front of him. Biting his lip, Jack finally let his mind wander in the direction he wouldn't let it go in last night.

He didn't want to say goodbye to David. He could never make up for everything he's done to Jack. Maybe he even deserved to die in the first place. Shallow. Jack felt shallow for thinking up such a thing. But nothing else could be truer than how he felt about that. Taking a sip of his freshly poured coffee, Jack let himself settle into contentment.

Until later the next morning. The newspaper was thrown on their front steps. Jack held it- like every morning- scanning for the latest news when he saw the obituary of David Chambers in the left corner. His stomach knotted. His palms begin to sweat and his breath sped up before laboring down into small shaky gasps. Jack expected this. He knew David was going to die. A jubilant feeling warmed around him, like a knot in a rope that's been pulled to the breaking point, had finally ripped and come undone all on its own. A weight slowly fell from Jack's shoulders and a small smile crept over his face. Jack kicked himself- he should've felt sad and angry. Sad because he lost his father, angry because he didn't say goodbye. But he didn't. Not in that moment, like how it's usually planned.

In fact, Jack felt anything but love for David- even in the ounces. The chickering echo: "He deserved to die," rang through his head like bullets. Jack couldn't muster up the words to speak them out loud to anyone or even himself; only inside his head where they were safe to say. They would be stapled with memories of David's angry words, his hard slaps and his riveting stares that steamed hatred -at least to Jack- from his eyes. Sitting back in his chair, Jack tossed the newspaper to Alice's side of the table. Coming to her chair with a coffee in her hand, she stopped, read what Jack had wanted her to read and she looked up at him with sorrowful eyes. "I'm so sorry, Jack." She pressed a kiss to his temple, rubbing her cheek against his head, before sitting back to the table. 

He took a deep breath in. "Knowing my parents, the funeral's going to be held in New York...." Alice looked into Jack's eyes. "I think we should go." Alice sucked in her bottom lip. "Are you sure.... I mean... can you... handle that?" Her voice lighter on the last words. Jack cleared his throat. "Yes... He was my father... and I should at least pay my respects to him and then go."

Alice soothed over Jack's hand with hers. "Susan and Roger...." Jack stiffened. "We have to tell them." Jack nodded. Alice looked at Jack- ushering Jack towards the phone. "Why don't you call Ro-"

"Susan will pick up.... she'll tell Roger." Alice sat back in her chair, watching Jack take rigid steps towards the phone. Dialing each number of Susan's San Francisco number, hoping she'll pick up. He didn't dread for Sean to pick up... only he needed Susan, his baby girl to wave her voice into him for comfort. "Hello?" Susan's voice. A sigh of relief fell over Jack for a quick moment. "Hello, Susan? It's Dad..."

"Dad? Hi. What's going on?"

"Well..... your grandfather, David... he passed away and... I needed to tell you in case you wanted to come to the funeral. It'll be in New York."

"Sure. Thanks for telling me... what about Roger does he know?"

Jack swallowed harshly. A piercing snap ran through his chest like a dagger. "No... I was wondering if you could call him- Seattle numbers are hard to reach sometimes...."

"Sure... of course. I'll tell him right now." 

"Thank you." It came out more broken than how Jack thought it would sound. A splash of shame soured his cheeks.

Hanging up, Jack hoped Roger would come. He might. He might not. Biting his tounge, Jack's breath became hollow and heavy like he was inhailing sand and water. Susan was his good girl though. After living in Pasadena for all of her twenties, she and Sean moved up to San Francisco. Jack knew it to be a cozy, yet entergetic place to nest a nurturing home for a family. The bright city scene with a mellowing linger of suburbia, all bottled into Susan and Sean's new townhome. Jack and Alice had visited the place- big spacy living room, four bedrooms, finished attic, big fluttery kitchen, finished basement and then another basement underneath that looked like any other basement, big backyard, back porch, garage... everything Susan and Sean wanted. "Perfect for a family!" Susan cheered, sharing a cup of tea in the kitchen with Alice. Jack and Sean sat in the couple's bedroom, talking about how he was going to fix up the finished basement. Jack listened. Letting the words enter into his mind, a sudden flash of their family hit him. He thought of himself, Alice, Susan and Roger, when they were younger. All together, living under the same roof. Jack missed those family game nights, the funny dinner chatters where all they talked about sometimes was how wacky their day could get. The bedtime stories he used to read to the children before their bedtimes.... all of it.

And Jack wanted that back again in someway.

At thirty two, Jack wondered when Susan and Sean would make that annoucement. A grandchild would enter the Chambers family- swooning Jack off the distraction of losing one child and gaining another in some way. But... he could never replace Roger. He didn't want to. He loved him- always has. It was just that things didn't turn out the way he'd hoped for the two of them. Although, prideful- holding himself unaccountable for the everything that happened, deep down... he knew it was a lie. A lie he told to himself.

Going back to the table, Jack poured himself a cup of coffee with a hint of vodka in it and then went upstairs to the bedroom for some alone time. Alice only watched as the last of her husband's foot disappeared up the staircase.

*********************************************

The plane ride seemed dreary. All Jack could think about was the last glance he gave to the house; dark and shabby like it drenched. Everything Jack seemed to see held this drab gloomyness to it. He looked over to Alice who sat next to him, head leaning against his arm as she slept peacefully. Jack found it reassuring in some way. Like Alice wasn't facing the same internal demons he was, and she was peaceful and worry free from the simmering piteous mind boggle he was swirling inside of. Jack looked outside the window, watching the sunny skies of home turn to drab gray tints with skyscrapers poking into them like needles.

Memories flooded his brain- some good, some bad, some really bad. Jack could remember the fuggy smell of the city. The alleys that were dark- dangerous. One thing Jack could appreciate was his father- Brooklyn's best detective- warning him to never travel down an alley way. "This ain't London, Jack. Don't you go walking down no alley way- they'll shank you, boy." He said, one evening during dinner. Jack recalled how his friend, Thomas, was explaining the different shortcuts in the city and how they weren't marked because then they wouldn't be secrets anymore. "Ya know how many bodies I would find in an alley, boy? I catch you down there, I'll lick ya!" Tough to swallow, but resonable as Jack knew how risky alleys were. 

The plane landed, jolting Alice awake and burning a fear ridden feeling through Jack's gut. He thought of the funeral and everyone that would be there. He thought of Susan, clinging her arm into Sean's, looking at the open casket of David. Then Roger, staring through the walls, only glancing at the casket while Jack would be glancing between him and his dead father. Alice would be silent, Lucy would crying and the whole place would stiff and chafed. Not that funerals were supposed to be joyfull. But then tension that sizzled through David's lifeline would no doubt mark his return to grave, one way or another.

Grabbing their suitcases, Jack and Alice made it out of the airport and to their cab. Their hotel was comfortable. Big cozy warm bed, nice heating- sheltering them from the icy Brooklyn rain and the picture window that stared out to the big wide city that surrounded them. Jack still loved the city. He still remembered the way his first Brooklyn apartment still lived in him somehow. The Caldar townhouses- cozy living room, little bedroom, the kitchen and nook that hung over to the side from the living room, tucked away in a small corner where it carried a small awning over the nook. His first apartment; the brick building still stood tall- updated and painted a white replacing the cream and yellow tinted walls.

Alice took in a deep breath. "I could stay here for the rest of the trip." She plopped on the bed, kicking her flats off. Alice sighed, staring up at the celling, counting the little spot decor overhead. She didn't want to, but she knew she had to say something to Jack. "Honey.... what about Lucy?"

"What about her?"

"We have to go see how she's doing and if she needs help with the funeral." Jack pursed his lips. "Yeah... yeah, you're right...." Alice sat up and rubbed Jack's back. "I'll be right there with you." Leaning her head against his back, a wave of comfort came over him. Jack always held in this pent up tight knitted feeling of guarding; needing to handle everything himself, while still keeping a tight grip over himself to not fall into the traps of his mother's woes, and his father's wrath. A young Jack could remember the biggest annoucment he made: moving out from his parents home, as his friends pulled his furniture from his room. Jack could remember the scowl across David's face- chanting how 'ungrateful' he was, while listening to his mother's sobs. Jack didn't feel too bad though. Still wheeling the relief he needed to feel from escaping the walls of his gray home. Jack could especially remember David and his yelling. The anger he felt from Jack finally breaking free from his uncontrolled circumstances- the deep hatred that festered inside of him from Jack standing up to him, like he did all his life even as a small child. The last to final time Jack would look David in the eyes and reject him from every part of himself and his life.

Jack ignored David's fury. He would glance at him, while David would stare angrily into his eyes. Jack focused himself on the movers and the new apartment he was aching to move into; how crisp the smell of a new home would smell, how safe the corners of his bedroom would feel, the closet would store clothes. Only clothes and no corners for teddy bears or brand new records that needed to be salvaged. Leaving the home, as he stepped off the front porch and walked through the little pathway from the porch to the driveway, Jack had felt like he set fire to the house. Striking a match, pouring gasoline over everything, and then throwing the lit match and watching the spark burn into blazing flames. 

Around the corner, the porcelain home of the Jenn's- corner neighbors of the Chambers- was set fire to. Jack knew the middle child of the Jenn's. Grover Jenn- the forgotten, yet tortured child of the family. He was always quiet and reserved, but Jack didn't expect the lad to be as hawkish as he was that one summer. Complaining over never having a say in his life- his siblings were always given le-way, where he was always condemed as a 'troublemaker' despite never having any known acts of being a nusiance. Rumors spread that the last straw was when Mr. Jenn, was going to boot Grover down to military school. Grover argued it was because he wasn't wanted, but it was quickly dismissed. Something snapped- Grover knew how much his father loved the home he payed for with his bare hands of hard work and patience. Counting down the days to when he was to ship off the school, around the same time, Mr. Jenn was finishing up the last check that he would send into the bank.

From all the pent up years of anger and desperation for a better chance; Mr. Jenn had sold Grover's toys and teddy bears after age twelve, because ' a boy shouldn't have baby toys if he was to become a man.' Grover knew it was just his father's personal preference, but was still forced to stifle down the pain he felt from his favorite childhood bunny being compacted or creamated somewhere in a trash yard. Then when Grover rebelled over the typical slicked back haircuts the boys were supposed to wear all the time. Growing his hair out down to his shoulder, Mr. Jenn shaved it into a buzzcut to teach him a lesson of 'obedience.' 

But it was that same year, when Grover had been secretly planning on moving down to Nebraska for factory job that would earn him twice the salary than a factory that Brooklyn could ever supply. Mr. Jenn was bothered from this- worried that Grover would never be able to handle himself alone without supervision from his 'superiors.' Moreso... his parents.... his father. Jack never understood why Mr. Jenn thought military school would help Grover, until he realized that it was only a city away and the parents could check up on Grover until he was officially eighteen, something Mr. Jenn dreaded. Everytime Grover mentioned his eighteenth coming up, Mr. Jenn would just brush it off and change the subject.

So, Grover finally did it. Grabbing a jug of gasoline, and dousing the family home- inside and out- before lighting a match and setting the whole house ablaze. The family escaped with first degree burns- as Grover hoped. But their home was gone. Everything that Mr. Jenn had worked so hard for, had burned down into a little ashes. Everyone expected Mr. Jenn to be furious and hellbent on finding Grover to lock him up and throw away the key. But he wasn't. Instead he just sobbed into his hands, confused to where Grover was, but understood why his home had bee burned down. Jack understood- he understood the flame that was slowly ticking and burning inside of Grover- like himself- had finally exploded. Jack set fire to his home, the day he left. Grover actually set fire to his home, and ran away- changing his name and everything about what his past was.

"I always hated my name anyway." He said to Jack one day in the school corridors. Jack felt this shiver up his spine. A sugary type spike of excitement- admiring Grover to some extent that he had the guts to do what his bagged up anger had made him do.

And despite the smoke filled air that morning, Jack would always think of it like a breath of fresh air. That him and Grover were finally free and their lives would be forever changed by their own liberation of igniting the flames and burning it down to the ashes of their pain.

*************************************************

"Jack!" Lucy greeted, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Jack felt uncomfortable, eyes glancing towards Alice, who stood awkwardly trying to make sense of exactly what Lucy's game was. Jack pressed a tight and stern smile together, before gently pulling out of his mother's arms. "Jack...." Lucy looked into his eyes. She stiffened herself- seeing everything she saw in them, the day he left. Jack's eyes were still bold; green and sharp like they were even as a young man. The strenth never left them.... and Lucy couldn't ignore it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there when.... you know.... Dad died." Jack bit his lip a bit, not knowing if he said the right thing. "It's okay, baby... he was in bad shape anyway." Lucy turned to Alice and pursed her lips before smiling tightly. "Would you like some tea, dear?" Alice smiled, glancing towards Jack, who gave a slight nod. "That would be nice, thank you." Lucy excused herself to the kitchen, waiting for Jack to follow her. Alice made herself comfy on the couch, fiddling with the edges of her blouse.

"David.... he really wanted you to be there." Lucy poured the water into the tea pot, placing a tea bag inside. Jack swallowed. "I know..... he probably did... maybe."

Lucy turned to Jack. "Of course he did.... you're his only son... he needed you, Jack. Oh... he was heartbroken while we waited and waited, hoping for at least a phone call to tell us that maybe you were-"

"It was so sudden," Jack interrupted. "Two days ago, I recieved your letter about Dad... and I was still taking time to reel from that too."

"I know Jack, but...." Lucy sighed, setting the spoon down and turning to him. "He was holding out for you, until... he just couldn't anymore."

"What do you mean?" 

"Well.... David... wanted to stay alive to see you.... but you didn't come.... and I guess he just died from that."

"Died from that? Me not being there? What about his cancer- the actutal reason he died?"

"Oh, Jack don't start." Jack sighed. "Fine. I won't." Going back into the living room, Jack sat next to Alice and squeezed her knee. Alice knew. He didn't need to say a word.... she knew.

"Tea's here!" Lucy set the tray down on the mantel. "So," sitting back on the couch, "what are the next steps?"

Jack cleared his throat. "Well.... we were going to help with the funeral.... in fact... I called the children and told them about what happened, and they're coming down later for the funeral."

"Oh, how nice of you to do that, Jack. It's nice to be around family, especially during times like these." Jack raised an eyebrow, flattening his smile. Lucy scanned Alice up and down, trying not to make eye contact with her. But she couldn't ignore how navy blue blouse hugged her curves or how her eyes held this ginger in them. It was always this way from the moment she met Alice.

Beyond the traces of her seemingly perfect body, there was her smile, her laugh, they sweet way Jack looked at her; admiring her with everything she did. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, while they stood together and Jack was explaining how much he loved this woman. Or like Jack's hand was still over Alice's knee as a this gentle reminder of how much he needed her and vise versa. Put together without all the fluff of fantasy, Alice held this light everywhere she went. And Lucy wanted it to be hers.

****************************************************

It was in the spring, shortly after Jack's engagement to Alice when Lucy and David had first met her. David gawked at her- like he did with every other woman- but neverminded her. Lucy just stared- not too noticeable- she couldn't stop herself from looking at the bombshell blonde. Full of life and lust- zest for the invitation of marriage towards her so, that truly loved from the start. Alice was valiant; grabbing Lucy's hand and shaking it while wearing this big smile underlined by her cherry red lips. That's when Lucy noticed her eyes. Rich and colorful- life lived through them- inside of them, holding this light inside of herself like she was something more than what Lucy had envisioned her to be.

A hard smack of reality spat back at Lucy a second time once she realized that Jack didn't fufill the unknown understanding that his mother wanted him to. A dainty woman with a shy, but humble etiquette about her. Lucy would have no hassle showing her the ropes of what being a wife- a woman would be about. She would be able to take the ropes and tug on them without a fight, and the woman would be grateful. She would let Lucy steer her into whichever corner she would need to be in, to be set and ready made for Jack.... for his family- all of the Chambers.

Lucy wanted her to be like a daughter to her. She wanted her love her like a mother and be a willing participant Lucy being exactly that, only she would still be different. Lucy was Jack's mother and the woman would be his wife. Lucy, her long complex history with her child would leave no doubts or competition for which role would be the best for Jack. And the wife would understand.... she was the second woman in his life. But strictly because he found her secondly.

Alice, was Jack's world. Fearless, polite, yet solid in her stances and dense in her womanhood. She needed no leader, she was her own guide. She was perfect for Jack. Lucy's history with Jack was already complicated- enough to where he didn't choose for Alice to meet his parents; showing them off like they were to be these trophies. Just by chance, they at the same department store and Alice stood by Jack like Barbie next a to a Ken. "Dear, try not to cross your ankles- it's highly inappropriate." Lucy commented during a lunch date. Staring at Alice with a sly exspression, Alice stared back, politely nodded, before crossing her leg over the other under the table. Lucy didn't notice until Jack had etched out from the table and the small gap in between revealed Alice's position.

Lucy looked at Alice's legs. Then to Alice, who returned the same sly smirk, only with more politeness- the same dainty manner that she became accustomed to.

It would go on like that with the rare occassions they would meet. Lucy would tell Alice something, and Alice- not following outdated customs- would politely ignore it or do something against it. But it was one particular Sunday. Easter had come and Passover had ended. A picnic was held in Palm Springs and Jack- hesitently- agreed to bring himself and a pregnant Alice there.

The buffet was crowded with tons of people, but Alice didn't let it bother her until Lucy rang up next to her, telling her what foods she should intake with a pregnant belly. "Healthy foods, serve for a healthy baby- but don't eat too much, or else it'll be harder to lose the baby fat. And besides, there's a baby bump, and then there's just excess fat."

Alice chalked the comment up to one in her own head over the reason of Jack being a premature baby. Spotting a delicious chocolate cake, Alice grabbed a slice and plopped it on her plate. "Oh no, dear," Lucy snatched the cake from off her plate and set it back down. "Your already too big for that."

"Excuse me?"

Lucy smiled, rather the same sly one she had at the lunch. "I'm only looking out for you." 

Alice smiled tensely. The times she used that smile was usually when Jack overreacted or Roger accidentally embarrassed the family in public with his own shenaigans and Alice had to save face. She stared right into Lucy's eyes- glossing past the innocent motherly act, as if she wasn't out for something else. Tilting her head up, she said: "Mind your own business, and you will be, okay?" Then she grabbed another slice of cake, shot Lucy one last look, before trolling over to Jack and explaining what happened at the counter.

Jack looked back to a red faced Lucy, who was storming over to the table. "Jack! Are you going to let your her talk to me like that? You really should get her home and let her have it!"

Jack squinted his eyes at Lucy. Standing up from the table and walking over to her. "Don't you ever call my wife 'a her' again. Her name is Alice. And further more, if you even think that I would 'let her have it', then maybe Dad 'let you have it' too many times to your head if you believe that's what a real man does." Grabbing Alice's hand, Jack stormed out of the picnic with Alice. 

They went back to their hotel where room service served them limitless food- including a deluxe chocolate cake. "Would you some ice cream to go with that, honey?" 

"Sure.... thanks Jack." Jack kissed Alice's forehead before scooping two scoops of vanilla ice cream into the bowl.

But Lucy would never forget those encounters and how Alice was so much different that what she expected her to be. The same boldness that Jack held in his eyes, was in Alice's. Jack was with his own type- quick to defend his wife from anyone, it became clear that she was his woman... no one else. Lucy sometimes resented that Alice held the family name in presence now. The hopeful glee of Lucy's type of woman, had wittled away like a steam in the tension of cold water. Now replaced with jaded memories of Alice, only signaled to Lucy once again, who Jack was. A strong man.... who wanted a strong woman. And Alice was nothing short of that.

Lucy would cringe at how Alice would stride causally in heels in a hip hugging pencil dress while holding her bags of groceries because she could. And she did. If the rules weren't candid, then she didn't follow them. Lucy would watch Alice get into her own car and drive off. She would watch Lucy wait until she was ready to marry- early thirties when she decided that she wanted to settle down with someone of her liking. She would see how Alice didn't need to be perfect- she just wanted to be happy. Jack was happy, her grandchildren were happy and their family worked. Lucy wasn't apart of it and neither was David.

 And it unsettled her. And it would always haunt her in someway, that she only she knew why.

***********************************************

"Jack...." Lucy asked quietly, careful not to shift Alice's ear from the upstairs bathroom. "Did she stop you from going?"

"What?" Lucy cleared her throat. "I know you have responsibilities, but... Alice can't take up all your time, can she?" 

Jack raised an eyebrow and let it turn into a furrow. "I didn't come, because I didn't want to see Dad. And you know why. I came to help you with the funeral because I know Dad would want to be buried here with all his police buddies and detective pals seeing him one last time- he was honored as a hero here, so... I know that's what he would want."

Lucy stayed quiet for a moment. "Why didn't you visit sooner- even if it was just me?" Jack took a deep breath. "Because I needed to take care of myself and do what was best for me. I just.... didn't want to come back. I left once.... and I'm happy."

The subject was dropped. Lucy continued cleaning the dishes, and Jack continued keeping his mother at arm's length. 

*************************************************

Three days in New York and by day number four, the funeral had arrived. Lucy wanted a fast and quick one; choices about the house, David's stuff and other decisions needed to made at the proper time as well. Not to mention visits with the laywer about David's pension also fell over Lucy's mind. 

Jack and Alice entered the funeral home- black dress, black suit and tie- as they made their way around the crowds of family, friends, and co-workers of David who respected him. 

"Dad!" Jack turned and found Susan walking towards him with her arms stretched out. Wrapping her in a hug, Jack held her like he hadn't in a long time. "Baby...." he whispered. Pulling back to see her face, Jack felt tears looming. "It's so good to see you. Where's Sean?"

"Parking the car. It's crazy how we even made it down here." Susan chuckled a bit to lighten the mood. Then she became more serious. "Have you seen Roger? I told him about Grandpa-"

"No.. no. I don't think he's here yet." Jack took a step back to examine Susan: Knee length black dress, sheer black pantyhose, black heels and a gray trench coat. Silver jewlery- earrings, a watch and brotch, styling her outfit in just the way Jack would think of what Susan would wear.

Then he saw Roger. Taken aback by how sharply, yet tastefully dressed he was: black trench coat opened to reveal his black suit and tie, black loafers and right when he went to scratch the back of his head, it revealed the shiny new watch- thick black belt with a huge clock in the center of it. Jack stiffened and suddenly his gut dropped. As Roger was making his way over, a buzz sounded. His pager buzzing in his pocket. Excusing himself, he stood aside. He walked toward the phone booth, desperate with whatever he received on his pager. Too busy to notice his father trailing him.

Roger dialed each button carefully. "Hey Paul. Yeah, it's Roger. Listen- I can't make the meeting Monday.... yeah I know it's inconvient, but my Grandfather died and I have to stay for a few days in New York..... no I'm not going to use this as a way to advertise my book- let it sell out in Seattle first.....okay... okay, thanks for understanding....alright, bye."

Jack met face to face with Roger, jolting him a bit in surprise. "You scared me," he smiled. "Nice to see you though, Dad." Jack felt frozen; kicking himself awake to respond. "Nice to see you too, Roger." He smiled. Bringing Roger into a hug, it didn't vapor the distance inside of it. Like a stranger's arms were wrapped around Roger. But Jack still felt the same familiar air of love he felt when he always hugged a child Roger.

"What was that phone call about?"

"Oh, it's nothing.... my publicist wants to.... you know... do business at inapproprate times, that's all." 

He had a publicist, Jack thought. Roger was famous, Jack thought. The realization soured him- sending this wobbly feeling over his body. Jack felt like he had been in a coma for years; Roger changed so much since the last he ever saw in person. Mature, hair styled differently- a short shaggy cut with a bang above his eyebrows and a bit of his forehead, swept the side- exspensive looking clothes.... a proper self made life he built for himself, that Jack was shunned out of. His little boy had grown several years in front of him and he was too stupid to even see it. He could see how handsome he was. How much greener his eyes became and how he stood a two feet taller than his father. Like a punch in the stomach- Jack couldn't allow the bellowing pride he had for his son, to glitter brighter than the clanking angst he felt inside. 

A feeling that could bring Jack to his knees begging for redemption. But instead standing as tall as he could in his own misery of what he didn't have.

Before Jack could speak, the sound of heels approached. "Roger!" Alice ran to him and hugged him so hard, he nearly fell back. Smothering his face in kisses, she kept her arms wrapped around his neck as she looked into his eyes. "Where have you been?" She whispered audiablly.

"Seattle. I write books now." He smiled. "Oh," Alice pressed her head more into him. 

"I miss you so much.... why can't you come home, sweetie?" 

"Seattle's been so good to me- all the wonderful city people have just been so kind... plus.... the city sells books faster." He chuckled. 

"I know... it's just...." Alice turned to Jack before pulling away and looking down. 

"It's just what?" Alice shook her head. "Well..... the Chambers belong in California... and the long distance sometimes gets the best of us, right Jack?"

Jack nodded, standing aside watching mother and son reunite.

"Ladies and gentlemen, can we all take our seats? The service will now begin."

****************************************************

Jack felt hollow. His father- asleep in the cold murky mahoghany casket, seemed to just bleed him dry of any outstanding emotion. He was supposed to feel sad, but he wasn't. Lucy seemed to be only one shedding tears- pressing tissues up to her eyes consistantly during the ceremony. Susan was watching David's coffin- stiff and still in her seat, sitting in between her husband and brother. She caught Jack's eye- gave a slight smile, before joining her focus back to the priest. Roger sometimes shuffled around his seat, trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone- especially Jack- whose eyes seemed to bore into him. Jack felt more snags tugging at him for Roger, than he did for David.

The service- tense and prolonged more than it needed to be it seemed for Jack. Listening to the eulogy filled with lies and tales about the man David was, cut through Jack- a spike of slight anger banging through him. So, he let his mind drift. And it thought about all the fear and pain he suffered from David- justifying the obvious, even though David wasn't here anymore- the memories would still and always live inside of Jack. He knew he didn't have to go down the usual path of self pity and fury- David was who he was, and his death would never change that. But Jack needed to feel obliged; reasons for making him turn out the way he did today. And it was the same bottled down itchy gnawling feeling that led him to where he was with his family- with Roger. Not fitting into any part of his own son's life, and being made to see how much clearer Roger looked- how bright his eyes were. The tension he felt when speaking with his father was no longer there and this rested confidence sank into him more than it did for Jack when he was that age.

Jack wanted to chalk it up to just plain luck- not having to fight the way he did. But he knew Roger. Roger went his own way and did his own things in life. He forged his own path, making a career of something he didn't even realized he loved so much. Jack would never tell him that he bought one of Roger's first novels. He would never let him see it across his face of how much he wanted for Roger to achieve and how proud he was of him to have gotten where he was today. Jack just missed him. He missed his son.... he missed who he used to be and would never know the person he became. His hair was styled so differently and it was symbolic in some way to Jack. How much he distanced himself from being his father's son, to just Roger. And that's what people knew him as. That's what he wanted to be known as.

Glancing back to Roger again, the young man peered once to Jack before quickly looking back to the front. Jack turned around and kept his head straight, but his eyes dazed with his full mind for the rest of the service.

*******************************************************

Everyone cleared the home, brisking past David's black and white picture. A younger version of himself that favored Jack in some way from the right angles. Same eyes, same smile, same dimples. Jack took a longer look at it, before moving along with the crowd out to their cars and down the community center for the wake.

"That was a tasteful service," Alice said, walking to her side of the car. Jack hummed a response. Before getting into the car, he noticed from the small gaps in between the crowd of Susan and Roger talking. Barely able to make out what they were saying, he went to the trunk- closer enough to hear what they were saying, but appearences would look like he was getting something.

"I am coming to the wake- but I said that I was also saving my energy for dinner tonight."

"I know, Roger..... look- I know you and Dad had.... whatever differences you had, but at least show up a little."

"Of course! Susan... I do appericate you letting me know... and I am going to be there... I just have to make an important phone call and then I'll come join the family, okay?"

Susan smiled a little. "Alright. I love you, Roger.... I always have."

"I love you more." He smiled the same cheeky one he did as a child. Susan giggled before pecking his cheek and getting into the car with Sean. Roger walked to his, making eye contact with Jack. He gave a polite smile before getting into his car and driving off.

**************************************************

The wake ended at around five that evening. The snow was twinkling a bit and cars were being piled into and driven away. Lucy asked Jack and Alice to help clean. Jack carefully accepted and stationed himself with helping his mother with the sweeping while Alice cleared away the tables. 

"I really am thankful for this, honey. Thanks for sticking around." Jack smiled. "No problem."

The room was quiet for a moment. Sounds of the broom sweeping up the dirt and crusty snow from shoes were all to be heard, along with some clattering dishes from the kitchen that Alice was tending to.

Lucy looked at Jack- studying him for a moment. "How are you and the kids?" Jack had raised his eyebrows for a moment before answering. "We're fine. Me and Alice are just enjoying retirement."

"I know how lonley it can get without the children around. I still think about when you were little and you would always want one more story, or one more cookie. It just made me so happy to see you be happy...."

Jack kept quiet. Lucy cleared her throat. "I'm gonna miss your father.... he was such good company...." Jack geared himself up for what else was about to be said. "You're good company, sweetie..... it would be nice to be able to have room to be with you.... and Alice." 

Jack looked to the side for a moment and then back to Lucy. "It wouldn't be much of an invitation if it was made up from persuasion rather than a gesture.... I don't think so." Lucy sighed. "Jack, it would be nice to spend time with you.... I want to be your mom again-"

"Mom... me and Alice came here to help you with Dad's funeral. Now, with all that said and done, you can't possibly pretend that those years didn't happen, that Dad wasn't abusive to me or to you, or that everything suddenly went away like magic because he's not here. Me and my family are going home the day after tomorrow- we won't even be here. I would have did what my son obligations were and then.... I would have the peace of knowing that I did help, and that I was..... that I was a good son- even if Dad didn't realize it."

Lucy dropped the broom. Tears flooded her face as she stared into Jack's eyes sobbing. "Oh, Jack.... I know I haven't been what you wanted me to be, but I can still make it up to you with the years I have left..... please don't leave me."

"What about how you left me? Abandoning me when I needed you to defend me from Dad? Those cookies and bedtime stories and hugs or whatever didn't protect me. They didn't help me.... you sat back and let him touch me the way he did- slap me, beat me, punch me.... I look at my children and I could never do that to them- no one would ever do that to them, even now as adults."

"But you still can't leave me here to wallow- you did it the first time. When I was struggling and you just wanted to move out of the house because you couldn't let go of the little snags you ran into with David!"

"Those weren't little snags- they were serious problems!"

"I needed you!"

"I had to leave!"

"I'M YOUR MOTHER!"

"YOU'RE A GROWN WOMAN! ACT LIKE IT!"

Lucy stared back in stunned silence like she had just been slapped hard in the face. Jack simmered down enough to bore back into his mother's eyes, anger still bubbling inside of them.

"I was a child. A little boy. You were still a grown woman. If you didn't want Dad, then you should've picked up your things and left- and took me with you. I left because that's what I wanted to do. I made the choice to carry myself the way no one else would do it for me.... I took responsiblity for my life. I didn't abandon you..... I just moved on. And if you even half the guts you think you do.... you would've done the same."

Dropping the broom, Jack grabbed Alice and walked out of the building, leaving Lucy behind in the dim lights from the night snow.

*************************************************

"Jack... what happened? What did your mother say to you?" The car ride to the resturant was silent. The sound windshield wipers waving against the window-wiping away the twinkling snow that pecked at the windows like rain- were the only sounds to be heard.

"She said that 'she loved me'...... I said 'it wasn't enough'." Alice kept quiet and just stared out the window. Shortcutting down the country side of the city, they made it to the resturant. Jack's headlights spotlighted Roger's car that was parked neatly towards the back of the place. Jack parked a few spaces over. Maybe for small talk or for just the feeling of needing to feel close to his presence in some way. Alice noticed his car. Stroking the back of her hand and biting the side of her lip, she stopped herself before she nearly wiped off his lipstick. Narrowing her eyes at Jack a little, she stepped out of the car and waited for Jack's door to close before she started walking towards the front door.

Susan, Roger and Sean were sat at the table- a big round one towards the right of the resturant, sat in the back. Susan waved her hand to usher her parents towards the table. 

"Roger you didn't tell me you were in New York before." Sean said. Roger chuckled. "Yeah, it was when my first novel came out and I had to do a press tour to promote it," Roger scooted his chair over to make room for his parents, "my publicist, Paul, thought it would be a good idea because a lot of young fiction writers were up and coming around the same time. He wanted me to stand out."

Roger took a sip of his ruma cola. Jack eyed it. "Roger, careful with the drinks," 

Sean chuckled. "Well, Roger's a big boy- I'm sure he can keep count." The two laughed. Jack sat back in his chair, cheeks becoming slightly red. The table ordered their food and chatted while they waited. Jack could only listen to some of the single man adventures Roger had back in Seattle; how shunned he felt from even knowing half of what went on with his son. From the conversation, Jack knew that Roger had the hots for a woman named, Kelly, he had written a book in a little cabin somewhere in Iceland, he had went skydiving, explored one of New York's lavish dance clubs, and had moved into a bigger apartment after he graduated university, upon getting a pet iguana named, Stone.

Jack smiled rigidly. A festering whirlwind of bitterness swirled inside of Jack. Omitted from his Roger's life, gave him this sick feeling of how much he wanted to- he should've been there, maybe to talk him out of some of those bad choices. But they weren't bad choices... they were just Roger's choices and Jack just didn't feel comfortable with them. Glancing between Susan and Sean, he hoped they show him some pity. And Susan did a bit. Nudging Roger towards inviting Jack into the conversation- he would and then make a way for Sean to need to interfere because of his amazement with something else Roger did, shutting Jack out again. And it was comfirmed- how much Jack didn't fit in.

Alice couldn't keep the smile off her face. Proud, amazed, joyful, like every mother would be to see her child do so well. Like she was meeting a superstar, Alice was comepletly absored in everything Roger had done. It was: "Roger, when did you do this?" or "I never knew that!" A smile was all that was plastered over her face the entire dinner. Roger could see Alice's motherly smile to Jack's pitited broken smile.

Even after dinner, the parents smiles never faltered. Sean scanned everyone and turned to Susan. "I'm going to go get the car." A subtle wink to his wife and she understood. Once Sean was out of sight, all eyes seemed to turn to Roger. "You're doing really good, Dad.... I know this is not easy at all with Grandpa David and... the issues surrounding it all... but you're doing so good and that's very commendable."

"Thank you, Roger.... I really appreciate that." Jack leaned in for a hug, taking Roger aback, but wrapped his arms around him anyway. Jack kissed his cheek, leaving Roger to feel somewhat uneasy. Old habits never change, he thought. Stepping back, Roger ushered Susan to hug Jack. As Jack was in a hug from Susan, he stared out at Roger, who's eyes were focused on the floor. Pursing his lips, he pulled away and gave Susan a sweet look before joining Alice like he need to cling to her for energy. And he did.

The four departed to their cars. Roger glanced over to Jack's car- parked a few spaces from his. Looking down and unlocking his car door, Roger shuffled into his car and waited until Jack and Alice left the parking lot before he did.

*******************************************************

In their hotel, Alice had already gotten ready for bed. Hair tied up in rollers and makeup wiped off her face, Alice was in bed snoozing away the day she had- David's funeral sparked several emotions in Jack that she could see, even if he bottled them up. But what she noticed the most was his responses to Roger and how much they've grown apart. It saddened her, but satisfied her to some extenet. She adored the relationship they used to have from when Roger was a child. But Alice couldn't forget everything that caused the drift in the first place- Jack being responsible for nearly everything of the reasons.

The lights were off and only the lamp of Jack's bedside was glowing. Sipping the last drops of gin from his glass, Jack's mind wandered over to Roger. 

Jack was particularly agitated by the thought of Roger. Sure, he was at the funeral and even the pity dinner thrown for Jack in his honor, but it still wasn’t enough to shake what had been lingering outside and inside for so long. Jack knew the reasons behind his calculated approach, but to Roger- it was a nuisance. It stood in the way of every goal and mountain he chose to climb. Roger- much like the rest of the family- assumed it was because of Jack’s deep rooted addiction to seeing him as this helpless little infant, but it only appeared that way. Jack was very much well aware of Roger’s adult status. He was aware of all of Roger’s milestones. The first car, the first date, the first apartment.... Jack remembered them all too well. Like mementos or framed polaroids, they lived in the depths of Jack's brain like trees deeply rooted to the ground. And sometimes... it hurt to think of them.

But the intentions and the comprehension behind them, were entangled like mangled hair or branches upon bark and leaves. Carefully constructed, yet sloppily thrown in this basket of mushy emotions- it all lived in Jack. And only he would know why.

************************************************

It had happened one particular winter; November when the California air had mellowed from the steaming mist of summer. Alice- suspecting from her experience of  her first pregnancy- knew she was pregnant with another. Jack burst in excitement upon hearing this news. Surprising as it would be, Jack seemingly was prepared. He always wanted another child. The couple had planned on it, but the exciting static shock of Alice's pregnancy still sparked through Jack. 

Having already rejoiced in his firstborn, Jack grew anxious to be a father again. Jack had secretly hoped for a son- someone to relate to on a gender level. A round head little boy, sweet little eyes, deep dimples, a stubborn ambition, and a gentle sensitivity. Jack would love this little boy- nurture his every little daydream or wish.

He would dream of this child the more Alice’s belly grew more and more. He would think about a little boy this time; brown hair and darker green eyes than the ones his wife and daughter possessed. A playful laughter, and a smile full of innocent childlike wonder, while he ran through the backyard in the field of dandelions and grass blades.

It was in a movie that Jack was watching. A young boy- sweet dimples, a chunky mop of red hair and freckles scattered all over his cheeks with a peachy blush to them. Roger was the boy’s name. And it soon became one Jack’s favorites. Raymond. Richard. All overdone and used way too much. But Roger just glided off the tongue like butter. Like a child begging for a toy, Jack eagerly persuaded Alice to like the name. Not much effort needed as Alice saw this name as the perfect catch for a golden little boy.

“Maybe he’ll have red hair...” Alice said one night. Jack smiled wide.

“Who knows... black hair, red hair... golden blonde? It all runs on my end too,” Jack looked up again. “I always envisioned the baby with brown hair and green eyes; Susan favors you so much... I just hope this baby favors me.”

Alice kissed the temple of Jack’s head. “I think so. They’ll be perfect.” And he would be. Jack held onto the thought.

Even when he gritted his fingers into his palms from Alice’s morning sickness or when he held his breaths from Alice’s sharp labor pains that rang in that evening and lasted until early in the morning- 2:28 A.M. A soft fuss croaked out, and then a pink flesh colored baby appeared from the white sheets over Alice's legs.

And it was that summer- July- where Roger had come into the world, donning the same dark chocolate hair, emerald green eyes and the dark cherry pink heart shaped lips, like his father. Just like Jack. Even as a baby, Roger held that same fiery flame of passion inside him. Hollering loudly for something, or cooing softly for another thing. Even though Roger couldn’t speak, Jack understood him. He could sense when Roger was upset. Those scary rainy nights when thunder would boom through the house, Jack was already up from the bed before a wail could be heard from his baby son.

When Jack would try his hardest to put a diaper over Roger’s squirming legs, he would giggle and stare into his father’s eyes with a deep twinkle in them, pestering one in Jack’s.

Roger could sense his father’s emotions. His anger, his sadness... his fear. To Jack, whenever a bad night would appear; nightmares or night sweats from bad dreams of David, Roger was right there with a cry to wake Jack up from those thoughts and rush into his bedroom. And when Jack would carry Roger in his arms, he felt this warm fuzzy feeling like a warm blanket was being wrapped around him. A light in the dark or a hole at the end of the tunnel. Jack found a kindred spirit in Roger. He was more than just a baby to Jack, he was a friend. A little version of himself that he could hug and sing to on dreary nights. Roger clung to Jack- his protector from everything scary in the world.

Jack tickled Roger's belly to see him gurgle and smile. He gave rasberries to his neck to hear his giggles. Jack let every soothing touch gently swish on Roger's skin- wanting him to savor the soft warm gentle touches of his father. 

Looking into Roger’s soft little eyes, he could see himself. Scared, alone, fragile, yet put up this tough strut and held a passion of ambition. Independence was something that Roger grew into even as a six month year old. He learned to to crawl, then walk, then run. All on his own, he would hold himself up and take himself where he wanted to go. Roger learned to babble, and then to speak. He spoke from his heart and conversed whatever was on his mind. Dominance in such a tiny package Jack thought. Jack couldn’t help but notice how Roger's furrowed eyebrows favored his own or how his puppy dog pout was practically a ‘copy and ‘paste’ from Jack as well. And Jack nurtured it. He held this dome over Roger- letting him be himself, never having to fight to defend himself from broken pain.

Jack decided he would give Roger everything that was never given to him. Teddy bears, kisses, hugs, bedtime stories, lullabies. It was how they bonded from the first touch to the first words Jack spoke to Roger. Linked together like chains, Jack promised he would never let go.

But Roger wanted to. And he did.

Roger loved Jack’s homemade cookies, his piggy back rides, his bedtime stories and warm hugs. His and Jack's one on one time- true and father and son bonding. Even the scent of him made Roger feel safe. It still did. Roger always knew he was loved. He never questioned it. It was the price he realized he had to pay for such affection that grabbed him in a chokehold.

The more Roger grew, the more expensive the cost became. So Roger would refuse to pay. When Jack dove for his nine year old son’s hand, Roger would tug it away. Jack would grab it back with a firmer grasp. Roger would snatch it away- quickly before darting off into the school, leaving Jack behind in the distance.

Eleven year old Roger, refused his scarf and hat for shallow fall weather. It wasn't cold enough to need it. Even more so, teddy bear prints and patterns were stiched all over them- Jack knitted them himself. Roger sliently balked at them; babyish and unappealing to him, Roger shoved them under his bed, and peddled his bike to school. Jack had found them later that evening. Picking them up and keeping them with him, it was when Roger was in the middle of English when he stormed into the classroom and gently donned Roger in the garments. "You'll get sick, baby- I can't let you freeze." Pressing a kiss to his cheek, Roger felt his face blush and warm. Roger blamed Jack for not being able to keep his head up through the whole in school. He shoved the hat and scarf into the depths of his closet- told his parents they must've gotten lost in the wash.

It went on like this for a while. Roger's teenage years were sometimes filled with Jack's constant smothering of affection. Always needing to hold Roger's hand, give him that extra push on the swing set or cut up his steak for him. Jack always had to be there, somewhere along the lines, it had to start with Jack. And Roger felt like he was drowing. Gasping for air- choking on his own resentment. And the more he drowned, the more the resentment grew. It liked to swallow him up like a wave. So, Roger would try to come up for air. 

Sometimes he lied and snuck out. He learned to drive earlier than his parents had known; Susan would sometimes take rides from a fifthteen year old Roger, without Jack and Alice even suspecting that Roger knew how. Jack held Roger back from letting Roger have his license until he was eighteen. Susan was treated the same, but she had an easier time to obtain this privilage. Jack, didn't even bother to teach Roger. "I wanna make sure he's ready." 

But he was never ready. At least not to Jack. So, Roger asked a favor from one of Dean and Bunny's boys; took him down to an empty parking lot, where Roger practiced his driving. He would watch Jack, Alice and Susan, along with anyone else he took a ride with, carefully scanning how they followed the rules of the road. Roger- saved some of summer job money for driving classes and then took the test. It was on a special anniversary dinner, when Roger annouced to his new driver's license. A month later, Roger got his first car. Jack stood by watching all of this, with an empty smile. 

The same smile he wore with gritted teeth on the inside. A pique biting inside him, through his gut and core. Angry at Roger- angry at his intentions. Why was he pushing this so hard? Why was he trying so hard to pull away from him? A part of him was proud of Roger, the other held this fear- the same fear he had seeing his infant Susan lay in the hospital with meningitis. He pleaded with God, not to lose her. And somehow, that same fear manifested itself into one of Roger. Not for death, but from the loss. He couldn't lose Roger.

Jack began to ride along with Roger when he took his car out. He had to sit in the passenger seat and direct Roger where to turn, when to put your blinker on, when to use a turn signal... Roger began to just leave notes on the fridge and leave for errands early in the morning or when Jack wasn't home. Jack didn't give up- he made Roger hang his car and house keys towards the door like everyone else. But they would never be there- as Roger suspected. "Sometimes, I take them in my room because it's late sometimes when I get home, and I'm so tired.... I don't even realize I did it." Roger ignored Jack's rule after that, and would stash his keys on the inside of his closet. "Roger... we hang the keys up here." Jack pointed to the key rack.

"I like to keep my keys with me at all times. So they don't get taken.... I figured since, I would be responsible if anything happened to them, so I keep them with me." Roger swung his keys around his finger and brushed past Jack a bit, on his way out the door. Roger never mentioned to anyone how one day he took his car to a locksmith and had an extra set of car keys made just in case.

The pique bit into Jack harder, biting off the flesh and then becoming source of itself on its own. Roger's gasps for air became an oxygen tank, Jack's bites became infected with a rabid dieasese. It made him mad, it made Roger add on more tanks. If Roger went out, Jack wanted to go too. If Roger went on a date, Jack would go too. If Roger got a job, Jack would scruntinze what type of job it was, and if it should suit Roger- despite Roger having the skills.

And to Roger, Jack would posess the same babyish position. Always 'helping' him out. Giving gentle nudges to his 'baby.' Until, Roger moved out. Then the waves calmed a bit, and he could swim along to its sweet breeze rhythm. But the pique- still alive- clung to Jack, not wanting to let go. And it followed Jack everywhere taunting him in his sleep. Flooding him with those sweet memories of Roger clinging to him, like a baby koala to its mother. They soon became his nightmares. Fear mixed inside the pique began to haunt those memories. Why couldn't he be there with Roger? Why didn't Roger want him around? It was an obssesion. Jack couldn't think of anything else, but Roger's leave to Seattle. A personal slap in the face- a deep rejection of his love. The love he never had as a child, but gracefully gave to Roger, only for it to be rubbed in his face.

But, it was just college? Then Roger would be home because of how much he missed his family. Him and Jack together. He cooled off by then. Then they could have milk and cookies while Roger told him all about his times at college. The innocent times... Jack would like to think of those times in the same way Roger's school days were back then. Just teacher troubles or a playground bully.

It was him who suggested that he and Alice visit Roger. Hoping for some sense of regret in Roger. He would wrap him into his arms and Roger would feel the fresh scent of his familiar hug. And then he would finish his semester, go home and they could be a family again. No more plane rides back and fourth, just one bedroom knock away and Jack would have Roger back. But semester was over. The fall had sprung in, and three years after Roger even entered the college, Jack and Alice were on the next plane down to Seattle.

But it was something about that visit. The way Jack babied Roger- embarrassing him in front of his friends, shunning him back down to little third grader he once was having to face his schoolmates after being kissed in front of them by Jack, tickled under his chin like a baby, cooed to a lulling whisper. It made Roger understand. It made him look at Jack- the fluffy feeling of love from his father's affection disappearing- and now the same pique had now bit into Roger's tanks. It became a life of its own from the oxygen. Swirling into a hole inside of Roger, he met Jack's eyes- forging the same empty smile Jack wore when Roger had climbed those mountains of independence. As his parents left his apartment, Roger felt confident this time. No more resentment, no more struggling to breathe. It was clear how much he understood.... Jack would never see him as the man he was now. He would never let go.

Staring at a family picture, Roger met Jack's eyes again. An irk pecked into his gut, before he took the picture off the shelf and stored it away behind the other pictures in his apartment. Seattle was always meant to be his home. Roger never thought about returning to California to live there, until today. But, he liked the feeling of December cold on his skin anyway. Roger took one last look at Jack's face through the picture, before walking away. But it was later that night, he saw 'The courtship of Eddie's father.' 

Something stuck in Roger, that maybe second chances could exist again. Roger finished his latest piece with his company, then his first draft for his first novel. A year had gone by, and hinging on twenty six and half, Roger worked his nerve to give his father the phone call that he hoped would change everything.

A phone call later that month, exspressing how Roger felt to Jack ended with yelling and angst.

"Dad..... I'm not a little boy anymore!"

"Roger, all I wanna do is protect you! I'm still going to do that no matter what, because I'm still your father! College doesn't change that!" Roger breathed heavily. "Dad... you can't do those things anymore- you know what I mean."

"Roger... is something going on up there? I need to know! What is it even about Seattle that amazes you? It's not all that to me... you shouldn't have moved away from your family.... you need me, Roger. You always will, why are you denying that?"

"Dad-"

"Roger.... you're my son- my little boy. You can't make it on your own- now just be a good boy and come home!" Roger blinked. "A good boy?"

"Yeah... you are a boy."  

"Dad- I'm a grown man-"

"You're in your early twenties, you're not that old, Roger."

"So, even when I'm in my thirties- you'll still see me as just 'a boy?'"

"Roger....come on. We both know that this move was just a spur of the moment thing-"

"You can believe that for whatever reason you need to- I'm not coming home. I am not a little boy, I'm not a baby, or a some stupid kid that can't take control of his own life..... maybe you'll never understand that, Dad, but it's not going to change."

"Roger- watch your tone! No, you are not fully capable of making mature choices because you don't know much yet. You'll always need someone to be there! You'll always need someone to help you! You can't do this on your own. Maybe you want to try, but, Roger..... you are still just a kid. You know you are... you know you need me."

The other line sat quiet for a while. "Roger?"

"You need me.... more than I could ever need you!"

Click!

The line went dead. All that was left was the buzzing of the line. The last conversation, unknown to Jack- Roger would change his number and never call the Chamber's residence again. 

It was past Roger's thirtieth birthday. That last phone call was when Roger was twenty seven.

Since then, Roger had never moved the family picture to full view again. Between the bookshelf of where his own books lived, instead, it sat in the back of one of Roger's desk drawers- folded and tucked away, neatly and safely, but forgotten. Or, that's how Roger wanted to see it at least. Roger had spent those years, traveling, dating, going to therapy and releasing his first novel- a drama fiction that involves a tangled romance and a broken dream of family life. Jack's heard of Roger's novel. He had read a few chapters, trying hard not to think of Roger. He couldn't finish it. He stored it away safely in his closet, and tried not to let the thought of the book, bustle him. Jack imagined it with eyes, watching his every move in the bedroom. But he just ignored it.

It broke Jack's heart more than he wanted. The pique that had been laboring in Jack for all those years- like the tank in Roger's body- had finally exploded. And the pieces fell over him. Scattered over the ground like broken potato chips, Jack couldn't let it sink in just how.... how Roger had let go of him. Those last words, rang through his mind everyday like church bells. It hit his heart and would it sting like an open wound with drips of lemon juice. Jack had to shove it into the back of his brain- those last words of his son, would never be held against him, but would try not to be remembered on any occassion.

And that's where it would stay. Locked up in Jack's brain, and etched out of his heart. Fanned down with water poured around it, but still hidden little flames brimming inside the wood, ready to ignite once again.

*********************************************

The day after tomorrow was here, and so was Jack and Alice's plane. As the family was packing up to return home, Jack ran into another snag. Lucy found their hotel. She took her time marching to the elevators, down the hall and right to the door of the couple's room. A gentle knock sounded at the door- breaking Jack's concentration with pack his bags. Like he already knew who was at the door, an irritation spiked him. He yanked the door open and was met with Lucy.

"Hi Jack..." He didn't respond. "Can I come in?" 

"We'll talk somewhere else." Grabbing his jacket and room key, Jack escorted Lucy down the hall.

Finally making their way into one of the hotel's resturants, Jack and Lucy took a table in the middle. Before Jack could speak, the waiter came.

"Hello, my name's, Steve, can I get you guys anything to get started with?"

"I'll just have a coffee." Jack said. "A tea with lemom would be nice." 

Lucy stared back to Jack as the waiter walked away. "Jack.... I know this is hard for you."

Jack looked up at Lucy. "Mmm,"

Lucy licked her lips. "I... know that growing up in the house wasn't easy and... I can understand that." She looked down, afraid to make eye contact all of a sudden. "When I was younger, David was different. I don't know what changed him, but when we were first dating, he was kind and gentle. Playful actually, like you. And then, when we had you- I guess..... some parents see themselves in their children- I'm sure you do in your own son, right?"

Jack tensed up. Taking a deep breath in and rubbing his fingers together, he looked around the resturant, hoping for his coffee to come soon.

"Well... David.... your personalities were very similar and sometimes when that happens, parents tend to be harder on that child because they see their own mistakes in them; wanting them to be a better person then they are. But David loved you very much-"

"Seems like a blurred line." Jack tightened his lips. "You know.... Roger is like me in some ways. And yes, sometimes I do see myself in him-"

"You see, Jack-"

"Hold on, I'm not finished. While me and Roger are alike, I still have a choice. I treat Roger they way he deserves to be treated and there is no personality that will or should move the way I feel about him, or interfere in how I treat him with that love. No disrespect Mom, but you can make those excuses for Dad, but it'll never make him into a good person or a good father. He had a choice and my personality is nothing like his- I don't get violent or petty, I don't hurt my wife and I certainly don't lay a finger to my children. Whatever fantasy about Dad and who he was before or who he became after doesn't change anything. He was violent, he attacked and abused me, he was abusive to you and there is nothing on this planet that will ever be a good enough excuse for a parent to be a failure to their children. If you can't see that- even after all these years....... even with Dad being dead and you being free from that marrige.... if you can't understand that everything that's happened, then there's no reason for me to be in New York for any longer than I have been."

"Jack... I worked hard to make our family unit work. No, it wasn't perfect the way it was supposed to be- but I just wanted you to have a father and I needed a husband. I'm so sorry you feel this way and if I could change that, I would. Being a mother is hard, being a wife is hard, being a woman is hard, Jack. You don't understand because you're still a child in some way. All we ever wanted was to have your best interests at heart and.... so we went on with life, continuing doing what we had to do to be a family. So... maybe David did lose control sometimes and maybe you did get hurt in the mist of it... but can you not think about how much we sacrificed to give you this life because we love you? The past is the past Jack, and.... the only thing we can do now is cherish and honor your father's life. So, forget about that nonsense of David doing this or David doing that- independence isn't what it's all cracked up to be. Don't fan the flames, Jack.... follow the rules... and you'll be safe. 

A silence fell over the table. Jack stared hard into his mother's eyes. Anger didn't even fuel him at this point- utter complete disgust had taken over, forcing Jack to see the other ugly side of the wicked table he was forced to sit at.

"Mom.... you settled for nothing because 'as a woman' that's what you believed yourself to be. That's why Alice intimidates you, that's why you're okay with being mistreated, and that's why even after all these years, you defend your abuser. You don't take me seriously because you play into this social code of being so satuated in 'a woman's place' that earth has spun a million times around you and you still can't move. Instead of working hard and forging a path of life in the way you wanted to live it... you just... beat yourself down until anyone could come and court you and you would still take it because that's all your good for- just a housewife. Tell me, what is it that you gave up? A man? A career? A goal? What is it about you that you can't let go of and instead needs to dangle onto the pieces of my self made future, and be a passive aggressive crone to the very woman who embodies everything you could never be, because you never tried to be her. You never tried for yourself and you expect me to hold your hand as you fall down into your own hole of worthless satisfaction because of a lie you choose to live because it's easier than a being a real woman. You don't have the guts to pick yourself back up and take a good, hard, stern look in the mirror and ask yourself: 'What am I going to do about it?' What I'm going to do, is grab my wife, my kids, and my bags and get the hell out of this city before I lose my mind too."

Sitting up from the table, Jack took one last hard look at Lucy. "Enjoy your tea." And with that, he left. Lucy sat at the table, still in this thick trance of mortification. Every word whizzed around her head like flies over a corpse. Even after the tea arrived, Lucy couldn't make herself drink it. Sitting there feeling smaller than a grain of rice, she didn't even try to fight it. She understood. Lucy was back in Jack's old bedroom, hugging the cold floor, after he had moved out from the home- not looking back for a second to what he left behind. And she was one of those things. David was gone, Jack was gone.... and now Lucy would have to live in the shattered shadow of herself- dying a slow bitter death from her own hands. 

There was nothing else that could be said. Lucy had written her life exactly how she imagined it. Trapped and bubbled in this promise of what would make her happy, brought nothing but misery for everyone invovled. But even through the thick wall of the unknown, Lucy still had dreams. And her dreams would live unfinished in the deepest depths of her brain where she had kept them from the first time they even appeared.

************************************************************

Lucy couldn't shake the idea of a family. Mothers strolling down the aisles of the market with one child holding her hand, the other close to her chest in a sling. Then there were the three or four kids packed into the backseat of the family volkswagon for a family day trip. Families were everywhere to Lucy. Her friend, Diane and her husband, Ethan, had welcomed boy and girl twins that spring. 

"They're beautiful! Irene looks just like you!" Lucy looked over to Diane's son. "Denver's Ethan's twin!" Lucy found herself lost in the cherubical cooing eyes of the new infants. Their gentle little yawns, their chubby little legs and baby doll faces felt perfect to Lucy. She observed the way Diane and Ethan interacted with their new children. How gentle Ethan was towards his children- especially Denver. Unafraid to lift him in his arms and smooch his little chubby cheek. Or seeing how Diane dressed Irene up in little dresses like a doll and how she would sing her in a gentle song like voice to sleep while holding her protectively in her arms- swaying back and forth like a delicate wind in the middle of a calm April.

Lucy could only observe the couple enjoying their new additions. Complete with their family- complete with their lives. Lucy had always felt Diane to be one step below what she should've been. But it was now Lucy who felt like she was three steps behind. Diane had did it all- courted, married, became pregnant and now was a mother. Diane was a wife and a mother- everything she should've been. She had done it all. Her home had improved- rich and lush backyard, wide living room with velvet pillows on the matching couch. Wall lights on every side of each door in the hallway, kitchen with big ovens, bright lights over the stove and a little crystal chandelier hanging over the sink.

Different from the simple little home they lived in for the first few months of their marriage- Ethan gaining up his own business, decided his family needed to begin on a different side of the city. Big white home, balcony overhead of the front door, picture windows on each side- big house sitting on a lush thick hill of grass with roses planted towards the front door.

Diane had everything. Everything that Lucy was sure she was destined to have. Groups of families were everywhere Lucy turned. Little boys and girls, babies, teenagers, preteens- all skating along with their parents down the road of family life. Something Lucy needed. It was planned; a promise that was decided for her once she entered into the pubescent callow ambition of preparing for future purpose. Lucy began to wonder when it would happen. When her belly grow with a child, when would she be able to nurture a child. Lucy had it all set. Her and David would go for a nice dinner by the lake. Then... they would continue their night in a whirlwind of lust all the way into the bedroom. Then a few weeks later, Lucy would be pregnant- expecting her first child, like she always wanted.... like she needed. Diane had a husband, she had riches... and now she had children. Lucy couldn't think about her friend's perfect little home on her serene little hill with her wealthy husband, her perfect set of twins- of each gender.

It was all Lucy could think about some days- despite her intentions to not to. Babies, Diane, her twins, her home- they all circled Lucy's mind like a spinner. And the more it spinned, the more her desires grew... and so did her fears. Lucy needed a baby- being the housewife she was expected to be- the woman she should be- she needed a baby.... she had to be a mother.

*******************************************************

It was late winter- Febuary, Valentine's day, when Lucy realized she was pregnant. She knew she was. She was never full anymore, her periods had gone and every morning, a pounding sickness would befall her. Sometimes she would just feel nauseated and tired, other times she would being rushing towards the bathroom with lightning speed before any vile could come up.

The first few months, Lucy assumed it was just a stomach bug. "You'll be fine," David would say, "what's for dinner?"

Some nights, Lucy was humped over the toilet, gagging and throwing up into the toilet. David would turn the radio up or leave to walk down to the local bar. Then her stomach started to grow. Caught between excitment over the little fetus growing; expanding her belly large- belly button poking out a bit of her maternity dress. "Cover it! You don't want people thinking you're a whale!" David sneered. Lucy could see the looks on David's face whenever they went out in public together. Lucy felt proud to show off her little bump; a medal, she felt like. An award for how fertile her body was. How easy it was to carry a baby. No one seemed to stare, as far as Lucy could see. Men opening doors and grabbing the items on the highest shelfs for Lucy- David standing behind, chatting with the slender checkout girl who was several years younger than him.

Woman smiling and congratulating Lucy on her pending new bundle of joy. It was also around the time Lucy would find pin-up girls; bare woman pictures stashed by David's desk. Lucy just stared at the pictures- the woman- slender, nude, with bright smiles or seductive smirks. Something broke in Lucy. But she obediently placed the pictures back into David's hiding spot, rarely going by the desk ever again.

Days and nights went by. Lucy felt the sting of feeling bloated; a fat unattractive whale, like David would point out at every turn. Lucy- broken hearted and empty- reassured herself of it all being worth it. The baby would be here and their family would be complete. David would scoop their child in his arms and kiss their little face all over- proud of them for being his little baby. "They're alright," David said of children, while smoking a cigarette one evening. "Their likes cars: people have them to show em off, then stuff them in the back when they don't wanna be bothered." Lucy sighed. David... did make a point. Most parents did love their children- Diane and Ethan being head over heels with theirs. But the style of society was children were to be 'seen and not heard.' David didn't exactly dislike children himself- he felt nothing for them. No hate, no love. "Better not be no little shit or something.... I'll kick its ass if they screw with me... fucking up my time or something...."

"Oh, David, they'll be perfect-"

"It needs to be a boy. A son is a good value to pass down the Chamber name."

It made something else snap inside Lucy. As the months passed, her stress grew. Lucy pared her eating habits- slim with a slight belly was good enough. At least, to David it was. "You're too big for sex now, Lucy. I don't need you crushing me in my sleep or something."

Tiredness became faintness. Lucy would fall over on the bed, or nearly slip in the kitchen. Sudden panic attacks would plauge whenever the thought of David with another woman would enter into her brain. Never proved, Lucy suspected it. It swallowed her focus over the last trimester- so much so, that the braxton hicks simply slipped past her. And it was that October when Jack was born. Sudden contractions hit her one evening, rushing David out of the bed and to the hospital. "It wasn't supposed to be like this!" She said, aloud. "It's too early!"

"Just calm down, Lucy... it's just a month, it ain't like the baby's coming six months early- then you would've failed." David laughed. 

A few screams and pushes later, Jack's cries could be heard from all the way down the hall. Rushed to the incubator, Jack lived in there for the next month. As Lucy would pace the halls and look into the little glass box that held her baby, fear overtook her. "He was supposed to be healthy," She said to herself. "He was supposed to come in November."

David never visited the hospital even once. At home, drinking down a usual six pack, Lucy would take the car to the hospital up until Jack came home on his planned due date. But Lucy would remember that month Jack spent in the hospital. A fierce passion for power. Kicking and screaming whenever the nurse would come to change his diapers. Grabbing at his feeding tube, moving his arms and legs in every direction. Eyes opened, scanning around the room for what he could see. Lucy wouls swaddle his little hand in her fingers. Eyes staring so deeply into him- seeing how green his eyes were, how deep his dimples were. Taking him home one night, Lucy let this deep sigh of relief out inside her. Healthy and free, Jack had made it out to the other side. 

But the fight was far from over.

***********************************************

Jack, only a few months old, could sense something about his surroundings. Quiet most days, but usettling- a heavy mog of precarious lingered through every door, around every corner and inside every wall. Even through the bars of his crib, Jack felt cold. Unprotected- even in the arms of Lucy, Jack carried this sense of helpless exposure. Looking into Lucy's eyes, Jack saw through them. The smile she wanted so badly to carry through every inch of her. Jack could only stare at Lucy. Look into her eyes- the way she wanted- but saw nothing. A hollow facade sat still in her eyes, her smile, her laugh, the way she catered to David... the way she loved Jack. And in some way, he knew that. A deep lie sat in back of the catalog magazine picture face, she held. Bright smile, fresh skin, perfect body- everything carefully caculated down to the last detail. But Jack was a baby- a small helpless little one who needed a fresh love from their caregiver. Lucy's body carried the weight of her desires- it was the effort behind the little word she created that carried nothing. To Jack, her perfect skin was cold. Her milk was sour. Her arms were wobbly and frail. Jack couldn't depend on anything Lucy could offer- even from her own body. 

It took almost a month for Jack to latch to his mother's nipples. Lucy pulled him close, only for Jack to pull away. Then when Jack was four months, Lucy tried to hold him in a baby sling while going for a stroll in the park. Jack cried the whole time- using his little arms to pull himself away from Lucy's chest. A red faced Lucy took Jack home and set him down for a nap for the rest of the afternoon. After several attempts of this, Lucy eventually gave up until Jack was nearly a year old and they would go to the park- a playdate with Diane's twins- while Jack was preoccupied with a toy.

This frustrated Lucy. Jack wouldn't want his mother's touches- her hugs or kisses she tried to pepper onto his cheeks. Not cooing the way baby Denver did when his Dad would make funny faces, or how Irene would giggle over her Mommy tickling and kissing her little feet. Jack wouldn't smile, even when Lucy would smile at him. When Jack began to crawl, he would crawl over towards his stuffed bear- scooting around his parents to reach the stuffie. Jack took his bottle- holding it in his hands himself once he learned what a grip was. Jack learned to stand on his own and took his time walking into the kitchen to reach the little block that was under the table. Jack learned to do what most babies did on his own. Lucy was there. She would wait for Jack to crawl to her; beg for her warm soothing gestures of love or fed off her motherly tenderness. But she was just forced to watch. Looking at Jack grow up for himself- all on his own.

He rejected her hand in anything- wanting to do it himself. And that's what Jack did- everything he wanted to do.... he did. All by himself.

Lucy would watch from the couch- staring at Jack, waiting for him to mess up, so she could come in and mother him. Take control of her destiny. What kind of mother, doesn't teach their baby? She thought. What baby.... doesn't want their own mother? This would sit Lucy until Jack was a year and a half. And then again when the day came for Jack to leave the family home.

The more Jack grew, the more he learned to do. And while Lucy could celebrate these things... resentment start to set in as well.

************************************************************

Lucy thought she couldn't put her finger on it; reasons piled to why Jack wouldn't want to latch close to his mother- the woman who gave him life. Nursing him inside of her body for all those months, only to be rejected- it spat back in her face. Lucy would look at Diane and Ethan and how their family was so different. Love was flooded in every corner of their home. They had the family fun daytime trips, the beach days on hot summer days, the big vans that shuttled the family of four around, wherever they wanted to go. Whenever it suited them.

Maybe Jack was just different. Maybe something was wrong with him, Lucy thought. After all, she did everything right. She let David have what he wanted; sizing herself down during her pregnancy days for his idea of what her body should look like, powdering the little stretch marks she had that looked like cracks on the edges of where her belly grew, being very strict with her calories and how much milk she pumped into Jack's bottles-David liked bigger breats and Lucy needed to please him- but it still wasn't enough. Lucy held Jack close to her and he would push her away... she'd push him harder towards her and he would cry.

It was always liked that when Lucy would steer him harder towards her. And Jack would cry. He would crawl away, walk away, run away. And Lucy would have to watch him from behind as he sheltered himself from her.

Those days, Lucy questioned why she even had Jack in the first place. But... she knew why. Lucy needed a perfect family. Jack completed that family. Except.... he didn't want to be a part of it. Desperation kicked in. The harder Lucy tried to bond with him, the more Jack wouldn't want her around. So then resentment settled in. Money- all of hers would be spent on baby clothes that Jack would either throw up on or soil. Then her time would be spent, making bottles and filling them faster than her body could handle. It exhausted her, leaving her with barely any energy to care for a baby. Lucy had comepletly forgotten about what signs of developmental issues the doctor advised her to look for. She was too tried- to angry to care. David got to sit back and jug down his usual beers and smoke his musky cigars, while Lucy- barely hanging on, had to tend to a baby that she couldn't seem to get to love her, no matter what she did.

Lucy begin to understand the deep meaning of bitter disappointment. "I tried." She would always say to herself some days, when Jack was extra fussy. Slamming bottles into the sink, practically yanking at the snips of Jack's diaper when he needed changing, Lucy felt beyond angry. She felt cheated. Like life cheated her- fooled her into the believing how perfect life would be if she just simply did as she was expected to. Jack would cry- scream through the night sometimes. Lucy would lie awake, eyes wide open from her own bitter thoughts- not the boring cries from Jack's bedroom. "Shut that damn kid up!" David rolled over and glared at Lucy. Lucy glanced over. "Dave, I'm tired, can't you do it?"

"You wanted him, right?"

"Yea-"

"Then you go change his diaper or whatever the hell he's crying over!"

Lucy huffed and stormed into Jack's room. She just looked down in his crib; didn't touch him, didn't say a word to him.... just stared. A glare forming over her face. Jack's cries made her think of when he was born....too early. He could've died. Then what would a dead baby be good for? He couldn't come home on time, ruining her chance to show him off to Diane and Ethan- rubbing it in their face of the detectives new son. But instead, she was left the pace the hospital floors, worrying the hair out of her head, whether or not Jack would even survive the night. 

Her body was gone. The one David loved so much. Now was replaced with a nudie magizine and for Lucy- a slouchy stomach and stretch marks that looked like webbed little cracks. The lotion softened them and underestimated their apperance, but no matter how good they looked, David would know they were there and so would Lucy. But then Lucy started to notice the twins. They're hair had grown in- Denver's dark brown and Irene's blonde. She noticed how when Diane would walk through the front door, the children would run into her arms, each one clawing for her attention. The resentment grew from there- Lucy thinking Diane was undeserving of such a bond. She didn't marry well- Ethan barely making ends meet when they first met. Diane wasn't a typical housewife- working for the news station at the public radio center downtown. "How can she even make time for her family? For her children?"

"Mhmm," David responded. "I mean- she should be home catering to house. That's what a wife does.... and to be a mother and run around like that.... that's not what women were created for."

"Damn right." David puffed in another puff from his cigar. "Probably hoe hopping or some shit, knowing her..." And Lucy wanted to believe that. But she knew Diane: crisp, clean, sturdy in her ambitions and devoted to the only man she ever layed eyes on in such a tender way all through her life.

One night, Jack was crying for something- Lucy didn't even care what it was for. But his wailing seemed to grind inside her ears. "Oh I can't stand to hear the children cry, especially when they're in pain," Diane took a sip of her tea, "I just feel so helpless in those situations. Last week, Denver needed a small booster and when he wailed I just couldn't take it. I wanted to just step out for a minute, but Ethan left before me. He can't bare to hear the children cry either."

Lucy could relate half heartdly to Diane's woes. She hated hearing Jack cry, but more for the annoying blares of it, rather than the anxious worry of might be happening. She tried rocking him in her arms- he still cried. She tried singing to him, but he still cried. Lucy paced the living room floor with Jack tucked into her arms, but he still cried. And nothing was about to make it stop. "God dammit! Stop crying!" She snapped. Her hands clutching him a bit harder than she should, her grip tightning with every second she held him. So, she set hims down on the couch and walked into the kitchen. Whatever happens, happens she thought. But the crying echoed even into the kitchen. Scrambling to every corner of the house, she just couldn't escape Jack... haunted by her mistake. Lucy didn't want Jack... she never did. But... she wanted the perfection. So, Jack had to be born if she was to complete it.

But it still didn't eschew the crying. Lucy thought for barely a second. Her nerves and anger reaching its limit. Storming back into the living room, she grabs Jack into her arms and swaddles him into one of his warm fuzzy blankets. She grabbed the old box from where Jack's crib had been delivered in and cut it into a smaller one with the boxcutter. David was at work, the house was empty and only the glow of the streetlamps could be seen. Stepping out of the house carefully, Lucy walked down a few blocks, turned a corner here, another one there, until she hit the fire department. She carefully placed Jack into the box and slid him towards the front door of the station. His crying had stopped and Lucy turned around to walk away. But something stopped her. It made her spin around and yank Jack back up into her arms and rushed back home.

Lucy never mentioned a word of what happened that night- to David, nor to Jack. 

Lucy knew the reasons why she took Jack back into her arms that night. It was because she saw a glimmer of hope in her future. She held hope that she did the right thing- she followed the rules and someday she would be rewarded. Lucy was a woman, who became a housewife and then a mother. She married well, she stayed at home and cared for the house, she tended to every need and want of her husband and made sure she obeyed and respected David when it was necessary. Everything she was supposed to be. A smile came over Lucy's face. She did do right. She may have had to sacrifice her desires, but it was worth it. The perfect family was the perfect goal in every woman's life and she slowly begin to accept that again. It was her duty to be this way and it would never change. 

And as Jack grew, the more she steeped into that role. Submissive when David 'punished' Jack, or understanding when a bruise or two fell over face or her son's because of a bad work day. "He's just a little upset, sweetie." She would tell a five year old Jack. Heels neatly side by side as she stood over the sink, scrubbing out the pots and pans from dinner last night, Lucy wore this cheesy smile over her face that couldn't be broken, no matter you told her otherwise.

Jack remembered looking her up and down. A sick feeling eroded itself over him like vile in the stomach wanting to be expelled. But it was just his mother. Her obsessive dedication to the man who would continue to haunt Jack- even into his adulthood- and stand by like nothing was happening. Jack hated the grin his mother would give him after every 'fall' or 'clumsy move' and she was bandaging him up in the bathroom. Her eyes held the most intense and unsteady cynicism that he would ever see in a person. And he would see those eyes looking down into his crib, or while he would be nursing from his bottle and she would just stare at him. The same woman that he felt such a irk from the moment he met her, wouldn't even come to his defense, but asked the nerve to join her in her dizzy little daydream of what the Chambers household really was. Squinting his eyes at her, he hopped off the stool and went into his bedroom. Lucy heard the door slam; a flinch sprung through her before she took a deep breath, remembered the reward and continued scrubbing those dishes.

Jack would sit in his room and think about Lucy. He would think about how her smile, her little laugh and her jolly good nature was all crafted to fit what she need it to be. He felt it. He knew it. Jack knew the way she looked at him wasn't a motherly smile or even just naive positivity. All of it- masked into this little dance of what she wanted to be so badly, that she could even kill for it.

And for that Jack was alone. Comepletly alone. And years later... Lucy would begin to understand just how much it costs to be perfect.

*************************************************

Alice was packing her things into her suitcase carefully. Placing each item very carefully- taking her time almost stalling to leave New York. And in some way, she was. Alice wanted to be with her children. She wanted Roger and Jack to talk. She wanted Susan and Jack to talk about Roger and David.....maybe. Alice just wanted to be a whole family again. 

Knock!

Alice shot up, walking towards the door and looking through the peep hole, she was met with Roger's hourglass presence. She opened the door instantly- her face lighting up at seeing her tall lanky son. His broad shoulder's seemed more dense in the lighting, his hair more browner and eyes more grassy colored. "Hi," he said. Short with words, Alice didn't even reply- only invited him in without a moment's thought.

"Where's Dad?"

"Downstairs in the lobby I think with your Grandmother, Lucy." Roger took a deep breath. "Good." Alice looked up. "Good?"

Roger shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you...... I just wanted to give a proper goodbye- we didn't have much time to chat at the funeral."

Alice looked down. "I know..." she came closer. "I'm going to miss you.... so much..." her voice cracked. Roger pulled Alice in for a hug.

She cried softly into his body, letting out the shattered pieces of their tense filled reunion. "Oh, Roger.... please just come home...." she sobbed. Pulling away and looking into his eyes, Alice faced her son and studied his more mature features than when she last saw him a person in the same lighting only a few years back. So young and ambitious with pride and such good faith. A thirty year old now stood in front of her- a chiseled jawline, piercing yet steady and gentle eyes, a few more forehead creases and a subtle little lines hidden around the corners of his mouth when he smiled and the corners of his eyes when they squinted from a deep smile.

A shockwave of pride and ire shot through her like a vodka shot. Angry that Jack made her miss out on those few years in between where she could slowly see how his face- his body... himself and how much he was shaping into through them. But they were stolen from her the minute Roger cut the off from Jack, leaving her to suffer in the middle of the downfall of it all.

"We missed your thirtieth..." she started. Roger looked down. "Yeah.... I celebrated myself with a few drinks and a fancy dinner.... I had a book release a week before and I celebrated that much harder-"

"It would've been a nice party.... you're always releasing books, honey. But what about.... making time for the other things... yourself and.... the people around you...."

"You mean like Dad?" Alice gave him a look. "Well... I mean.... you know..." Suddenly Roger's confident little smirk simmered down into a frown.

"You don't have to be coy.... I did what I wanted to do with him, and.... that's all there is..."

"He's heartbroken! I understand you want some independence, but- he's your father.... all he wanted was the best for you, Roger...."

"So... you're defending him?"

"Roger.... I'm not justifying your father's way of handling it, but you have to understand... people aren't perfect."

Roger was quiet for a moment. Alice continued to stare into him, hoping to break his concentration from whatever was forming in his mind. "What are you expecting me to do?"

Alice raised her hands before slapping them against her thighs. "Maybe... make amends?" 

"No. Not this time."

"Why not?"

"Mom.... Dad.... he has problems.... for whatever they are, whatever it will be, they're there... and they're very real. I made a choice to not make those my problems... and unfortunatly, if I carried on with brushing it off like -at least how people expect me to- then Dad would've became one those problems for me too.... So.... I let it go. And in the process.... I've had to let him go too."

Alice stared for a second.

"Amends is not something that just comes out of thin air because of interchangeable expectations... or maybe.. just disappointments. Frankly, I'm just not ready to have that type of conversation with someone who I feel hasn't changed. And then that would just leave us with all those years of the same thing. I guess.... it's just inappropriate at this time for me to fully commit myself to something that.... just doesn't exist for me right now."

Alice blinked. "Roger.... how could you say something like that about your father?"

"Because you were decent." Alice's eyes grew wide with a glossy shine over them. Roger came closer to his mother, meeting her face. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, Roger stared back, as Alice had trouble rejoining her attention to her son's face.

"And I thank you for that..." Roger gave Alice one last look, before opening the door and walking out of the room.

************************************************

Everything felt hazy for Jack that evening. Jack and Alice said their goodbyes to everyone: Susan, Sean and Roger. They watched their daughter get onto her plane with Sean closely behind her, they watched Roger settle into his flight, looking down at his pager for something important, and then their plane arrived and took them back to their warm weathered cozy home in San Deigo.

As the world shifted into the next year, Jack still was somehow stuck back in that hotel room- the funeral reliving every moment of that hurt. Pain from everything around him: his mother, his son, his wife.... not able to focus his mind on his dead father buried in that casket. Jack took another swig from his Jack Daniels. No glass with him, just straight from the bottle. He wondered if Alice would know that he was gone by now- the bed empty and cold on his side and Alice would feel this light air pressing against her back.

Jack sipped down the last drop of his liquor, but still unnumbed. Wide open- his mind racing in a thousand different places, and they all led to David. His screams, his insults and belittling, his punches, his kicks, his slaps... all haunted Jack like this mirror on the wall, reflecting ghosts behind him to shatter him comepletly pale and striken with hoplessness. Then Jack thought about the casket. How it was probably heading back down to Virginia right now, where David originated from. As the circles around his eyes sunk in deeper, Jack- in a faint but grounded sense- decided he would finally end this.

His son hated him, his wife was beginning to hate him and his daughter was forced to look at the once perfect family turn broken into a million different pieces scattered all over the floor. And Jack had enough. He would find a way to fix this- to make his family whole again.

And he would begin with his own roots. Jack would finally set himself free. 

And somehow... set everyone free as well.

[fkinavocado]

a very indulgent exploration of what could've, should've been...

Don't Worry Darling (SPIN-OFF) - Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings / alternatively, read on wattpad

Part One (word count: 6.2k)

“... Jack? Excuse me, Jack? Is that really you?”

The man reluctantly stopped in his tracks and turned around, recognizing the woman but having forgotten her name. “Oh… hi there, uhm…?”

“Emma. It’s Emma. You remember me, right?”

“Yeah, you’re, uhm… you used to work at the hospital…”

Emma approached him, noting he wasn’t keen on breaching the gap himself. Poor fellow, she thought. He looked a mess. She was surprised she’d even recognized him. “Oh, I’m still at the hospital! How are you, Jack? You know, we’re all worried about you. Why didn’t you take us up on our offer, hm? We’d have loved to help you any way we could… It can’t have been easy. Gloria told us she came over once with a home cooked casserole but no one answered the door. She assumed you’d moved. Which is good, we thought. But we couldn’t get a hold of you, you must’ve also changed your number…”

Jack wasn’t really making eye contact. His gaze downcast, a hoodie atop of a beanie on his head and an oversized, worn out puffer jacket that almost swallowed him up. He looked very poorly even hidden behind all that. His facial hair unkempt, as was his hair tucked underneath his beanie, seemingly longer strands of it all messy and straw-like peeking out. His glasses loose at his temples. His face was hollow cheeked and she really feared he wasn’t looking after himself properly at all. But what really stood out to her was the bouquet of flowers he was carrying.

“Yeah… I moved out of there. Too many memories.”

“Those were her favourite… pink roses,” she mused. “You miss her so, don’t you, Jack? You can’t even bear talking to me about her, you poor man, even after all this time… What must you be going through… do you– agh. This is so insensible of me to even ask. Forgive me. But if it’s any consolation, us at the hospital haven’t given up hope. We still think she’s out there, somewhere, our Alice…”

Jack cleared his throat and took a step back. “I should get going…”

“Of course. Do take care of yourself, Jack. And if you ever want to reach out, you know where to find us. Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,...” he stammered a bit, not knowing what else to say. He walked for a while in the wrong direction, just in case the nosy woman decided to follow him. 

He hadn’t moved. That would’ve been near impossible, and since he managed to dodge the bullet while the police were sniffing around for the longest time, he figured there wasn’t any reason to do so anymore. But he couldn’t have her know that, which is why he never answered the door to the other woman with the casserole either. 

After making sure she wasn’t following him, he resumed his walk home. He wished he could find some type of work from home. He’d be saving so much time and money on the commute, plus he’d always be there, which was quite imperative, all things considered.

What if there was a power outage? The one time that’d happened, there’d been dire consequences. Consequences he hadn’t had to endure. And he simply couldn’t allow that to happen again.

There were so many things that could go wrong while he wasn’t home.

Plus, if he worked remote he could take on a full shift. As it was, he had to work part-time, which wasn’t nearly enough to make ends meet. But the commute and all the prep he had to do were taking up too much time, time he didn’t want to waste here.

Finally arriving home, he made sure to secure the front door- the lock and all 3 of the bolts. 

Checking the computer screen, he only had 40 minutes left. The woman had made him late, what with all the detours he had to make to be sure she wasn’t following him.

Canned tuna it was, then. Again. No time for cooking. Not that he had much in the fridge anyway. 

He always felt antsy between the time he got back home and logging in. He wanted to get everything done and out of the way as soon as possible- cooking, laundry, cleaning (more like tidying up, the apartment was far from clean even by his standards), everything on autopilot, peeking at the computer screen every now and then to make sure he didn’t miss his log-in window.

With 20 minutes to spare, that was his que. 

“Oh!” He rushed back to the kitchen to retrieve the flowers, then using the keys that he wore on a chain around his neck for safekeeping, he unbolted yet another set of locks on the bedroom door. 

There she was. 

His heart always swelled in his chest seeing her there, safe and sound. Everyday day, without fail, a sigh of relief escaped his lips once he entered the bedroom. He’d probably never stop worrying while he was away for work.

“Darling, I… miss you all the time…” he hummed the lyrics to a song he used to sing to her often, placing the flowers in a vase by the bed. “Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” He sat on the edge of the bed and reached to caress her supple cheek. “But I love you the most.”

Jack knew he did. Who else would do all this for her? Nobody! He tended after her, emptied out her waste bags as well as checked the respective connecting catheters were secure in place, cleaned her up, all without so much as wrinkling his nose. He replaced the IV, taking note that there was some bruising on that arm so he made sure to switch, he removed her compressive socks and massaged her limbs thoroughly before putting them back on, even made sure to hydrate her lips though she was getting all her nutrients through her IV, hell- he thought of everything. He did it all for her happily, and would do much more if needed. 

She’d done so much for them, too. 

She still did!

But long gone were the days where he’d see her come home from back to back shifts at the hospital, with barely any time to get some sleep in before she had to head back, all because she had to support the both of them all while paying off her student loans. 

Medschool was so expensive. Had he met her before he’d have talked her out of that career path. He’d have talked her out of any career! No. That was his job. He was the caretaker. He was the breadwinner. It’d been like that since the beginning of time. It was only natural for the man to provide. The fact that she’d had to for all that time had been killing him, every day that he had to sit at home and wait for her to get back from the hospital only to see her defeated, exhausted, drained beyond belief. 

Resident doctors were paid shit but strung out to the max. Especially surgeons. 

Meanwhile, Jack had struggled to find a job for the longest time. Unlike her, he hadn’t gone to college, let alone university. His parents couldn’t afford it at the time and he knew better than to tie himself up in student loans. He’d had odd jobs but nothing really ever stuck. He had no real skills, and every entry job demanded some form of higher education nowadays.

Plus, someone had to do house chores, cook and clean. And they couldn’t afford help. 

It’d been eating him up inside. It was all backwards! 

All up until he’d met someone online and got to talking over a game of World of Warcraft. This guy swore up and down about this dark web programme he’d found, but it was all very hush-hush, and Jack had to put in some serious gameplay time until he managed to extricate the info out of him.

The guy was very paranoid about telling him and even used a code system for what to look up. Jack took the lead and before long, he fell down the rabbit hole of what he now knew to be the Victory Project.

He got so immersed trying to digest all this new info being thrown his way all of a sudden that he nearly got caught listening to one of the podcasts when she’d gotten home from the hospital one day. He’d even forgotten to call the plumber. Boy- had that pissed her off.

She was already on edge all the time. Never had any time for him anyway- but if she got upset over silly little things she shut him out completely. 

He felt emasculated. Rejected. Reduced to a housewife.

Jack smirked to himself, as he tended to her whilst pondering all that. Securing the straps back around her wrists he mused at how things had changed. “I fixed it for us, I told you I would. Now you’re the one who’s waiting for me just as we speak. And I don’t even come home to you in scrubs, do I? No, I come home to you all handsome, suit and tie and ready to get my fill of you. Never too tired for you, am I darling? You’re such a great cook, god knows my mouth waters just thinking of all you’ve slaved over for us to feast on, but all I wanna do is feast on you instead. Aren’t you lucky?”

Jack watched her expressionless eyes for a moment as if waiting for her to answer him back, and promptly remembered to apply her eye drops, noticing they looked extra blood-shot than normal. He then finally got comfy in bed next to her. He couldn’t wait a moment longer. He was hard already just in anticipation of the way she’d excitedly open the door for him. The door to their lavish home, and their extravagant life together that he’d earned for the two of them. Him. 

He fixed the device around his own eyes and turned it on, taking her hand in his. 

“Welcome to the Victory Project. There are currently 72 active users.”

Nothing beat this. The pleasant, warm afternoon air sweeping through his perfectly coiffed hair as he rushed to get home to her from the Victory Headquarters. Here, the weather was always perfect… whereas, in the apartment, he had to keep the heating on a lower setting, the bill was ridiculous during the colder months. He always had to wear layers and layers, but not in the bedroom- no, he kept a radiator in there. All for her. He had to switch it off for safety reasons while he was away at work but it wasn’t like she was aware of her surroundings anyway! All the more reasons why he had to find something remote so he could work from home and clear up all these little things that bugged him about the whole arrangement. 

But he didn’t want to think about all that, not while he was here. No, here, those problems didn’t exist. This was his preferred reality, this was what he chose to believe was real. All the rest was just a means to an end.

He could feel all his exhaustment leave his body the closer he got to the house. He seldom wondered why she couldn’t have done the same for him coming back from the hospital. Why she couldn’t just leave all that baggage at the door and be glad to be home, back to him, where he waited for her like a lovesick puppy with separation anxiety.

He knew the answer to that now, of course, and that was all Frank’s merit- the brain behind this whole thing. He’d listened to his podcasts for a long while before he enrolled into the program. There was no way she could ever respect him within their given dynamic at the time. The roles were reversed and she couldn’t allow herself to be a woman to her man.

He’d fixed it, though, and boy, had Frank been right.

Every day, without fail, he knocked on the door coming home from work and there she was- all smiles and carefree and so eager to please him, in any way he saw fit. All because she respected him now. He was the man of the house, he was the breadwinner, he put a roof over her head, he got her all her little heart desired and kept her satisfied and happy. 

Which is why when nobody answered the door he was a bit taken aback.

Using his key that he’d rarely ever had to use himself to unlock the door, he let himself in and carefully inspected the silent house.

He knew, realistically, that there was no way something could’ve gone wrong- there was no crime in Victory. No one had broken into their home. But still, he searched the house tentatively. “Alice?”

Everything was spotless, and most striking of all, he couldn’t smell a trace of the homecooked meal he’d so been looking forward to. That tuna was enough to sustain his physical body, but not his large appetite.

Reaching the bedroom, he furrowed his brows with worry upon finding her… sleeping. Passed out on the bed, clad in her street clothes. She’d seemingly come back home from town exhausted and must’ve stretched her bones a bit by the looks of it. 

He contemplated waking her up. Maybe crawling between her thighs and having her gasp awake at the feel of him lapping languidly at her folds. He loved waking her up like that, and she did too. She loved being loved on, and Jack absolutely loved pleasuring her. She was so much more responsive, so much more sensitive to his touch, he could pleasure her over and over for hours on end. Probably ‘cause of all the practice he was having on a regular basis. And maybe he adjusted some settings regarding his stamina while creating his profile too, but at the end of the day, why not? He did it for her. All of this was for her!

Jack grunted to himself before closing the door to the bedroom so he wouldn’t perturb her sleep, deciding last minute to forgo his initial plans. Funny he’d been reminiscing about how things used to be just in time for this to happen all of a sudden.

It must’ve been a glitch in the system or something. This wasn’t in line with what he’d designed for themselves. Here, they were never tired, ill or imperfect in any way. Jack made a mental note to look into this after he logged out.

In the meanwhile- he’d never tried his hand at cooking here, where presumably he’d be a lot better at it than he was in reality. 

Just like with everything else.

*

Alice blinked her eyes awake. She took in her surroundings and hesitantly stood up on the bed in the dark room, letting her sight adjust. 

How did she get back here? Not here, here. She had an inkling of how she’d managed that- but back to the house, from the Headquarters. She couldn’t remember making the trek back.

Maybe she didn’t have to.

Maybe this was the default setting she woke up to everytime after entering… the simulation. Because, what else was this if not that?!

How long was she out of it? Judging by the darkness surrounding her, a good few hours. Perking her ears up, she could hear music- so Jack was home too.

She cradled her knees to her chest, trying to let it all sink in. She hadn’t had time to properly digest what had happened, in her unconscious state.

Hell, she was surprised she could even remember.

But this explained it… explained all the fuzzy deja vu-like flashbacks she kept having. Explained her brain fog and all the things she just couldn’t follow through in her train of thought. Explained why she sometimes couldn’t account for most of her day until Jack came home from work, almost as if she’d been on auto-pilot. 

Explained all the vivid “dreams”. 

They weren’t fanciful dreams, idealistic wishes of a progressive feminist world for which she’d gotten shock therapy at the Victory’s doctor’s orders.

They were her memories.

Waking up tied down to that bed… her own bed, from another life, had been traumatic, but she clearly was still in shock to be so calm about it. 

She hadn’t been calm initially of course- not when she couldn’t move her arms or blink her eyes shut. 

She’d managed to slip out of the confines, her wrists weak and frail and barely recognizable, yanking her IV out of her vein by accident- she hadn’t even known it was there!, all in an effort to get those things that forced her eyes open off of her face.

She’d been hysteric. Tried to muffle her own screams, because she didn’t know who was around to hear them. Tried to calm herself down, but the more she noticed, the more she hyperventilated. Like the fact that had both urinary and rectal catheters sticking out of her. Then she noticed how emaciated she looked, almost like she couldn’t even recognize her own body. She couldn’t feel her limbs, she felt numb and achy all over, bruises all across her skin from sitting still for so long. Her throat was hoarse, she couldn’t really scream that loud even if she wanted to.

She’d fumbled out of bed and immediately collapsed to the floor. She was too weak to stand, and she prayed she hadn’t broken any bones in her fall. She sat there crying in a fetal position for god knows how long, thinking of all the fractures she’d fixed in the OR, and all her knowledge that had gone to waste. 

All her life that had gone to waste!

This room, this bedroom- her old life came back to her in a flash, flooding all her senses. It felt like everything was finally clicking into place, and despite how miserable and utterly devastated she felt, it was a relief to finally figure it out. 

With the way nobody came rushing into the bedroom, she knew she was alone. Unless Jack was at this computer, headphones on– oh god. She felt her mind split into two trying to reconcile the fact that these two very different men were one and the same!

She was alone strapped to the bed- which could only mean one thing. He wasn’t constrained like she was. He hadn’t been forced into this. Unless they were being kept separate… both victims of this sick mindfuck. 

Because… surely– surely Jack couldn’t be behind this.

… Could he?

Scrambling for the door, determined to get some answers, she reached for the doorknob.

When she couldn’t get it to open, she mustered up all her strength to stand up- but still- it was no use. It was locked. And with the way it felt it looked like the door had been tampered with, bolted shut from the outside, not just locked. 

She was trapped. A prisoner in her own home. She eyed the windows next and even if by some miracle they weren’t bolted shut too- she knew she was too weak to try and use the fire escape. She’d surely succumb to her death trying to evade. She needed a plan- a better plan.

Her brain was scurrying to come up with something-anything, all the while dry heaving at the sight of her waste bags still attached to her by those catheters and the overall stale smell of the room, but she knew that with how dehydrated she was, vomiting would take her out completely at that point. She head to keep it together, had to–

She’d heard what she recognized to be the front door. Her blood froze in her veins. She didn’t know who it was, she had no idea who was behind all this. She had no clue where Jack was, if he even was part of this– her heart told her no, he couldn’t have, but at this point she had no way of knowing what was real or not, let alone what this all meant.

She couldn’t risk being found conscious. She was clearly being kept in a comatose state, treated as one such patient at least, and the fact that she’d woken up from that induced state was definitely not intended to happen.

She remembered what had happened before she woke up like this- she’d reached the infamous, off limits Victory Headquarters. Because a plane had crashed in that direction, and the trolley driver didn’t believe her nor wanted to take her there!

She’d made the trek all the way there… it’d taken her ages, in the scorching sun- and finally, finally, she’d reached the imposing building, in hopes of finding some help or at least some answers at that point!

Next thing she knew, she’d woken up strapped to this bed. Her bed, in her old bedroom, from her old life that had been stolen away from her!

She needed to gather as much information as possible, and the only way she could do that was to get back into that bed and pretend she never came to.

There was no other way.

She hurried as best she could, barely making it back to the bed, made sure she was laid out in the same outstretched position. By some miracle, the catheters were still in place, their respective bags on the floor by the foot of the bed. The hardest part was fixing whatever that contraption was over her face and around her eyes. It dug deep into her flesh and she remembered to wipe any traces of tears from her face when new ones began rolling down her face. She was surprised her body could even produce them with how parched she felt. She then inserted the needle back into her bruised vein– which was sure to get infected at this rate, whoever was doing this to her was amateur at best, or they didn’t much care to keep her alive. She didn’t know which prospect was worse. She slipped her wrists back through the strap loops, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious she’d gotten them a bit loose when she struggled her way out of them. 

And then she’d waited. And waited. And waited. All the while a bright red light scanned her eyeballs systematically, no doubt whatever was used to induce her into that trance or whatever it was that created the optimal parameters for the alternate reality to take place. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around it. She couldn’t even begin to understand how it worked- all she knew was that it was all too real to be just a dream. No. That was a controlled environment. The world simulation came to her again.

Her whole body froze as she’d heard the lock, then what she counted to be 3 other bolts on the bedroom door. She could only see directly above her, and that barely- but she could hear him when he came in. 

Smell him, even. 

And it wasn’t the smell of expensive cologne she’d grown used to, but a more familiar smell. A smell that felt more real, more ingrained in her subconscious- that of clothes he’d dug out of the laundry hamper to wear a few more times when everything else was too dirty even for his own standards, mixed with canned tuna and the faintest amount of deodorant that did nothing to mask the fact that he’d skipped showering for a day or two.

Her heart sank when she heard him hum to himself the song that had been stuck in her mind for ages- the one she’d been humming herself but couldn’t remember where she knew it from. This is where she knew it from. It’d been their song, in a way, a song he’d made up just for her.

“Darling, I… miss you all the time… Got you flowers, your favourite! Even that pesky Emma from the hospital remembers they’re your favourite. You’re so loved, hm? My precious girl.” She felt him sit on the edge of the bed and tried her best not to flinch when he leaned in to caress her cheek. “But I love you the most.”

She could feel her eyes well up with tears. Tears she couldn’t even blink away. 

He then started tending to her and she mustered up all of her willpower not to lurch at him when he’d gotten her out of her restraints- she knew she was no match for him, not in her weakened state by any means.

He was doing this to her. It was him! All while declaring his love for her. She felt her heart break into a million pieces, all the while forcing herself not to make any movements and break her cover. Not even when he cleaned her with wet wipes up and checked the catheters, emptying the waste bags. God- she wished she was dead. For a while she zoned out completely, much like rape victims. She just let it happen to her, dissociating from her body completely, mentally checking out.

He’d eventually poured what must’ve been eyedrops into her sockets and that brought her back to reality. Whatever reality was anymore…

And then… to her utter shock, she felt him get in bed next to her. The familiar clank of the device she’d placed back onto herself could be heard and she realized he was putting on the same headgear. 

He was… joining her? He was willingly putting himself through this? Sure, he wasn’t forced into it against his will, there was nobody strapping himself to the bed, nobody feeding him through an IV and treating him like a comatose patient.

But he was entering the simulation the same way she was. Through that headgear.

Is this what he did everyday while he was “at work”? Was this the infamously secret Victory Project that she couldn’t even ask him about- exiting that alternate reality and coming back here?

She heard him switch it on and then the whole room went dark before a projector of sorts played a familiar black and white scene on the ceiling, above the bed. She felt him interlace his fingers with hers and she was done for- she couldn’t fight it. Whatever this was, it was working fast, making her slip into unconsciousness almost immediately.

Followed directly after by her waking up in her other bedroom. Unrestrained. Nothing to force her eyes open. Clean. Rejuvenated even.

But scared shitless.

Traumatised.

Heartbroken.

She didn’t know how long she stood there, trying to make sense of it all in the darkness. Thankful to be able to move freely, thankful to feel like her old self, but well aware that it was all an illusion, that her real self was held hostage somewhere god knows where. Helpless, frail and alone.

She felt conflicted. Why was he doing this?! Why had he done this to her? She’d heard him say he loved her most. Heard he’d brought her flowers, even though she couldn’t even see them. Felt him tend to her, he was doing a lousy job at it but was keeping her alive and she could tell he was trying his best, being gentle, careful, thoughtful even when the reality was he didn’t have to. Not when, for all he knew, she was unconscious. 

This was insanity. 

There was no other explanation. No other justification. She understood the nuances- could see why this was- on paper- a better life. But it was fake! And most of all, it wasn’t her choice!

She’d been forced into it, against her will, without her even being aware of it! Her life had been robbed away from her. Her family, her friends, her hard work. The only common denominator… was Jack.

She didn’t know how to go about it, but if there was any chance of her escaping, she had to play dumb and pretend she knew nothing.

She wasn’t sure how she could face him knowing what she did, but she had to. She had to buy time, enough time until she could put her plan into motion. 

She didn’t know if she’d succeed, but she had to try. She had to. She had to escape, claim her life back, good or bad.

She got off the bed, marvelling at how strong and healthy she felt, as opposed to how she’d collapsed on the floor in her real body. That alone emboldened her, she had to go face the music.

And face the music she did. Jack had put a record on, blasting it at high volume with little consideration to her being asleep. No surprises there.

But as she approached the kitchen, she took in the sight of him… cooking. Or, trying to cook. 

Apparently, you couldn’t tweak everything in this alternate reality. Or maybe he didn’t care to fumble with his cooking skills. Because he’d definitely perfected some of his other skills–

“You’re awake!... I didn’t have time to set the table.”

“What’s going on?” She watched him scurry around the kitchen, trying to do a dozen things at once and failing. 

“Well, I’m making you dinner. Now, we were supposed to have five courses. Unfortunately, I think we’re down to about three.” 

She took note of the mess, especially the way something was about to catch on fire on the stove.

“That– don’t look at that. That course is officially off the menu.”

That’s when it clicked in her brain– the fucker had switched up his accent! He had a British accent here! Oh, she could laugh if she didn’t feel like murdering him. She reminded herself it wouldn’t be the real him she’d be murdering, though. No, for all she knew if she harmed him in any way here, she might end up trapped inside this simulation forever if her plan failed. Or until her real body died, with no one to tend for it, even as poorly as he was, in the real world.

She had to thread carefully. “What happened?”

“I got a little aggressive with the seasoning.”

“How long have you been home?”

“Uh, a few hours.” He proceeded to make even more of a mess in his attempt to jump from one dish to the next. “Okaaay. Nope. Don’t look at that. That’s– Okay, so I’m making that roast, you know the one you made for my birthday? Only with a few changes…”

“I was here when you got here?” 

“Yeah. Asleep in the bedroom. Do you put carrots in a roast?”

“How did I get home?” That was a reasonable question. Last thing she knew of this reality was she’d reached the Headquarters. She needed to know if anyone knew about it.

“Trolley, I think.”

“Wait, so he came out and got me?!”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Jack, I got off the trolley. I saw a plane crash.”

“Alice, I think I would’ve heard if there was a plane crash.”

“No, Jack, I saw it…”

“They tend to be rather loud…”

“... and I started walking–”

“–and hard to miss.”

It was dawning on her that she wasn’t going to milk any info on this out of him. He was going to pretend the plane never crashed, of course, whatever that even meant for this simulation. Or maybe the plane crashing was only visible to her version of this altered reality. She couldn’t know for sure. But he seemed unconcerned otherwise. She didn’t think he knew she’d gone there. She really must’ve re-entered right back into the bedroom, after all, she, along with all the other women, were never meant to go up there, the Headquarters were off-limits.

Meaning that was probably from where the men entered. Since they were the only ones who came and left. The women were probably all bound to their own respective beds back in the real world, they were never meant to leave the simulation. It made sense why she’d found herself back in the house- where she belonged. And it made sense if that was where the man entered and exited since that’s where they all allegedly went everyday for “work”.

Her heart sank at the realization that it was highly probable that all the other women were victims, just like her. Unless everything and everyone else was a simulation around them.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

She tried not to flinch when Jack finally noticed she’d zoned out whilst trying to process all of this, and touched her shoulder, taking a better look at her.

“No…I don’t know–I’m not…”

Before she could react, he pulled her into his arms. That smell of expensive cologne hit her again, overriding the smell of stale clothes and canned tuna from her recent memory. And his embrace felt so familiar, so comforting, that for a moment she allowed herself to pretend like this was the person she knew to love her. The person she couldn’t wait to come back home from work everyday. The person that made her smile and laugh and moan and cry tears of happiness. She knew him well, she loved him with all her heart. And she was reluctant to accept that this man was the same that was keeping her strapped against the bed. Because that was the reality of it. 

But this version of Jack that was holding her felt so real as well…

“I had a really weird dream. A really weird dream…”

“I’m sorry.”

Her heart sank. Was he, sorry? She buried her face deeper into his chest and held her breath, stifling a sob as tears flooded her eyes immediately. She wanted to break down in his arms and ask him why he’d done this. She wanted to give him a chance to explain himself. Wanted for him to somehow, magically, make it all better.

But she knew there was no way for him to do it. There was nothing he could say or do to justify what he’d done to her, even if his intentions didn’t seem as evil as they truly were to him.

Because she knew Jack. She knew he’d probably convinced himself somehow that this was the only way out of the miserable life they were living- and be it as it were, it was her life! He’d had no right to steal it from her like that. 

“Do you know what weird dreams make me? Hungry.” He fed her a carrot he was holding jokingly then turned her around as she chewed absentmindedly, her mind racing, still taking in the reality of what her life was. Or the alternate reality, more like it.

Jack cupped her face, searching her eyes and declared solemnly, “Alice, I want to be honest with you about something.”

She almost choked on the carrot she was chewing on. Was he–

“I don’t think these mashed potatoes are gonna work.”

She swallowed, a bitter taste in her mouth at her naivete. “That’s because you need to boil them first, baby…”

“I knew it… I knew there was a step missing. Such an idiot,” he smiled bashfully.

She laughed at that. A manic laugh, but he didn’t seem to notice. Not at how incompetent he was at such a basic life skill- who the hell tries to mash raw potatoes?!- but at how hopeful she’d been for a moment there, believing he was about to confess everything just like that, out of the blue.

“Let me put a pot on…”

“No, no, no–”

“Come on, let me–”

“Make us some drinks. Relax.” He pulled her out of the kitchen and into the lounge, declaring “I am your chef tonight!”

Lord knew she desperately needed a drink at this point, so she sighed heavily, getting to it, when he stopped her in her tracks, “hey!”

“Hm?”

“You love me?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She replied like she used to, back in the real world. Something she didn’t remember ever doing here, but it just came to her by reflex now that her memory of her past life had come back to her fully. And for some reason that she couldn’t explain, she meant it, still. “The most.”

Jack seemed pleased with her answer, and resumed his ‘cooking’. Alice turned to the whiskey bottle and downed two doubles, one after the other. 

How was she ever going to get free when her stupid heart had meant what she said?

She couldn’t allow herself to be fooled by this false reality any longer. Couldn’t allow to slip into his arms again and pretend he loved her when this was anything but love. 

So she waited. Waited until he fell asleep that night (thankfully all the “cooking” had seemingly tired him out and he didn’t try anything)- praying this meant he was truly asleep.

Got dressed, tiptoed out of the house and geared up for a long journey to the Headquarters. She couldn’t risk taking the car and waking him or the neighbours up, alerting them with this unusual behaviour. There weren't any trolleys late at night by any means- everyone was sound asleep.

Everyone but her.

She was no longer asleep.

A/N: i've been meaning to get to this for the longest while! hopefully it scratches some itches we've been left with. i had fun writing this first part. more to come 👀

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

🦋follow me on wattpad to get notified whenever i post something new/update!🦋

[storiesforallfandoms]

a perfect world ~ jack chambers;don't worry darling

word count: 2122

request?: no

description: in which she finds out that their picture perfect world is not as perfect as it seems

pairing: jack chambers x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n, kind of an au where jack isn't an incel but he still does the bad thing of taking the reader into the simulation, jack tries to gaslight the reader, kind of a dark fic if you think about it but not super dark

masterlist (one, two, three)

Jack knew something was wrong the moment he walked into the house. It was the quiet that tipped him off. It was never quiet. Usually the place was filled with music. Either the soft lull of the radio, or his wife's humming, or both.

This time, though, the house was eerily quiet.

Jack came around the corner to find his wife stood at the kitchen counter. She had a glass of wine in her hand, with the bottle next to her on the counter. She was staring off into space as she took a sip of her wine, her movements almost robotic.

"(Y/N)?" Jack said, cautiously. "Love, are you alright?"

(Y/N) didn't respond at first. She took a long sip before slowly placing the glass down. Jack's worry was growing further. Not only worry for his wife, but worry for himself. If something was seriously wrong with her, then it would result in demotion, or worse, from Frank.

Finally, (Y/N) turned to face him. Her face was so calm that it scared Jack. When she spoke, her voice was also eerily calm.

"I know about Victory."

Jack tried to laugh off the comment. "My job? Of course you know about it, love."

"No," (Y/N) said, shaking her head. "I know what Victory is. I know why we're here, Jack. And what you did to me."

Jack's blood ran cold.

In his fear and anxiety, Jack started laughing again. (Y/N)'s face was still blank as she looked at him.

"I don't know what you're on about," Jack said. "I didn't do anything to you, besides put a ring on your finger."

(Y/N) chuckled, but there was no true humor behind it. "Well, yes, you did actually do that. But you didn't do it the way we've been telling the story, did you?"

Jack started to walk away. He was trying to seem nonchalant, but the panic was starting to overwhelm him. He didn't want (Y/N) to see his panic, otherwise he wouldn't be able to convince her that she was wrong.

He stopped when (Y/N) called after him, "How long do you intend to keep me in this simulation?"

Jack spun around before he could stop himself. "You are crazy! Do you hear yourself? You're talking crazy!"

Emotion was finally showing on (Y/N)'s face. It quickly went from shock to anger. "You're going to call me crazy? When you're the one who has me hooked up to a machine and making me play happy little housewife?!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

Jack couldn't help but quickly look around in panic. There was no way Frank was listening in on their private conversations, right? This wouldn't get back to him, would it? He needed to stop (Y/N) before things got too loud or somehow their neighbors noticed the arguing.

He tried a more calm approach, saying, "Love, I don't know where you got this idea. We are not in a simulation, you are not hooked up to machines. I'm sorry I called you crazy, but you have to understand that is how everyone will react when they hear you saying this."

(Y/N) pulled away as Jack tried to reach for her. "I got this idea when I went to the Victory headquarters."

Jack backed away from her. No, she couldn't have been to the Headquarters. None of the wives even knew where the Headquarters was, and they wouldn't be able to even go out that far.

Except for Margaret, but Ted wore he had her under control.

They locked eyes, silently daring the other to make a move. Jack had lost any sense of confidence he had mustered seconds ago. He felt like everything was about to slip from his fingers. Everything he worked so hard to build for him and (Y/N), all gone in the seconds it took for her to utter that sentence. Meanwhile, (Y/N) had gone back to looking emotionless. She didn't even realize how much she was about to lose.

When Jack didn't break the silence, (Y/N) took it as her opportunity to explain, "I was on the trolley and it broke down. The driver told me it would take some time for it to be fixed, so I offered to just walk back to town. But, oddly, the driver started trying to convince me not to get off. He was very adamant about staying on the trolley. I was a little put off by how insistent he was on it, but I thought he was just worried for my safety."

Jack felt himself unconsciously clenching his fists. The damn trolley driver. Couldn't he have been a little more subtle?

"I did stay on for a while," she continued. "But it was just the two of us, and I knew I'd get home quicker if I just walked. So I did. When the driver wasn't paying much attention, I got off and started walking. But we were in the desert, and none of us wives have ever been out that far, so I was a bit lost. I found his building I've never seen or heard of before. I knew I shouldn't go to it, but...my curiosity got the better of me."

Jack felt as though he was going to start crying. Even though he already knew the answer, he asked, "What did you see?"

"Nothing," (Y/N) responded. "Not at first. Not until I touched the building. Then I saw the truth. All of it."

Jack winced.

That's it. There's no denying her when she saw the building.

The truth was that (Y/N) was right: she was hooked up to a machine that was putting her in a simulated perfect 50s town.

In the real world, Jack and (Y/N) were really married. They fell in love young and married right after they graduated university. Everything was great, until Jack lost his job. His company was on a fast downwards spiral that resulted in a number of employees getting terminated, and Jack was one of the unfortunate ones. (Y/N) was still trying to get a job within her field of study, so she was working a minimum wage retail job. While Jack was unemployed, (Y/N) had to carry the financial burdens, and that made Jack feel awful and useless.

Then he discovered Frank and Victory.

Frank promised a perfect world and a perfect life. All Jack needed to do was work for eight hours a day, as well as all the other men within their town, for Frank; for Victory. It was a small price to pay for him and (Y/N) to live their dream life.

And now all of that work was ruined. Frank would take care of (Y/N) for finding out, whatever that meant, and Jack would be exiled from Victory.

He had to sit down.

He lowered himself into a chair at their dining table. (Y/N) was still watching him. He wished she would just do whatever she planned to do; scream, break things, go right to Frank and tell him she knew about everything. Whatever the plan, he just wanted her to get it over with. The unknown silence was killing him.

"Why?" she finally asked. "Why did you do this?"

"For us," Jack said. "So we could live a better life."

"What was wrong with our life before?"

Jack scoffed. "Seriously? (Y/N), we were struggling. I was unemployed, you were working a shitty job. You were pulling all the financial weight, and I hate that all of that was on your shoulders."

"So instead of talking to me about your feelings, you hooked me up to a machine and put me into a simulation without my consent?"

Jack hung his head. There was no way to paint that part in a good light. He hadn't brought up Victory because he was afraid (Y/N) would reject the idea, and he couldn't take their real life for much longer.

"I just wanted to take care of you," Jack said, his voice small. "You were doing it for so long, and you never complained even though I know it was tough. I didn't want you to do it anymore, and Frank offered the perfect life for us."

He heard (Y/N)'s heels clicking against the tiled kitchen floor as she approached the table. He couldn't look up at her as she leaned on the table, basically towering over him.

"What happens if Frank finds out that I know?" she asked.

Jack shook his head. "I don't completely know. He just says he takes care of it."

"Did he take care of Margaret?"

He didn't ask her how she knew that Margaret had known the truth as well. It was probably pretty obvious now that she knew. Instead, he just nodded. "And he told Ted that if he didn't get Margaret under control, then he'd be fired from Victory."

"So, if Frank finds out, this is all over for both of us?"

He nodded again. He had a feeling he knew where she was going with this. She'd go tell Frank that she knew the truth about Victory, even though it would be a risk for her to do so. But the risk would be worth it if it meant Jack was fired from Victory, sent back to the reality that he was trying to desperately to save them from. Once they were back in their own reality, (Y/N) would no doubt divorce him as well. He'd deserve it, of course.

"Then I'll just have to get really good at keeping a secret."

Jack's head shot up quickly to look at (Y/N). There was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and there was something in her eyes as she looked at Jack.

"What do you mean?" he asked, dumbly.

"I mean, what you did was very fucked up. Like, extremely fucked up. Next time you're making big decisions like, I don't know, putting us in a fucking simulation, maybe talk to me about it first. But, with that being said...I'd be lying if I said I preferred our real life over this one."

Jack was stunned. This was not what he was expecting at all.

(Y/N) gestured for Jack to push his chair back. When given enough room, she sat herself on his lap and put her arms around his neck.

"We can't stay here forever," she told him. "We have real bodies that need to be taken care of, and families and people that will worry if we just disappear. But, it's hard to give up on this life. It's so...perfect."

"So what are you saying?" Jack asked.

"I'm saying we put a cap on how long we stay here. Give it...I don't know, another year. We let ourselves be happy, be worry free. Then, however we have to, we get out of here and we get to working on making our reality just as perfect as the simulation is."

"You'll have to go back to work."

She nodded. "I know. But I'm not opposed to working. I did get a whole degree so I could work my dream job, after all."

Jack put his arms around her. He wanted to pull her in close and not ever let her go, but he couldn't just yet. "Why?"

She furrowed her brows. "Why what?"

"Why aren't you more mad? Why aren't you going to tell Frank so that I get in trouble? Why do you want to stay here...stay with me?"

(Y/N) gave him a look like she thought he was being incredibly stupid before cupping his cheeks. "Because I love you, you idiot. And, like I said, the way you went about doing this was very stupid and wrong, but I know you did it because you love me, too. As long as you can agree with my deal, I don't see any reason to be mad and want to leave you."

Jack finally allowed himself to kiss her. It caught her off guard, which made her giggle against his lips. Every memory he had with her, both in the real world and in their simulation, came rushing back to him.

"I agree," he said. "I'll do whatever you want, I promise."

"Right now, I think I want to make love to my husband in our super cool retro bedroom," she told him. "Just to make sure I don't forget how to do that when we get back to the real world."

Jack smiled at her. "Oh, don't worry love. I won't let you forget."

[multifandomworldsposts]

Day 6 of Kinkmas: In Victory With Jack Chambers

KINKMAS ❄️🎄✨

pairing: jack chambers x fem!reader

warning: eating out, fingering, unprotected sex

Y/N’s POV

I get started on cooking the chicken I bought at the grocery store, I cut up some carrots, celery and onions for the chicken until I feel arms around my waist. I turn my head and it’s Jack with his famous smirk.

“What’re you cooking?” He asks about to eat a cut carrot.

“Chicken.” I say continue cutting some celery.

He kisses my neck and hugs me tightly. I giggle by the little pecks he gave me.

“I’m almost done with this chicken so go sit down and wait, okay?” I say looking at him.

Jack walks to our kitchen table and sat in his usual chair, looking attractive to be honest. I get the vegetables on the table and went back to get the chicken which smells delicious. We finally get to eat and talk about our day.

“How was the boys today?” I take a bite of chicken.

“Well, they’re all going good, Peg is now 4 months pregnant already.” He says picking some chicken from his fork.

“Oh really? We should have a little get together party for them one night.” I say.

“I think we should.” He smiles.

After we eat, I get more comfortable in my chair and ask Jack, “Do you want dessert?”

“I rather have something else.” He smirks.

“I’m still sore from last night Jack.” I confess.

“Come on, please?” He gives his puppy dog eyes.

“The answer is no.” I say grabbing our dishes and heading to the sink to set them in the sink.

“Please Y/N/N, you know I won’t hurt you.” He approaches the ledge of our kitchen counter.

“Jack, you know I can’t trust you.” I say.

He knows I’m right.

“Y/N/N, please, I won’t hurt you this time, it’s just you love the way I take you.” He walks over to be behind me and whispers.

“Fine Jack, just take to bed and have your way with me.” I turn around and say.

He picks me up and takes us to our bedroom. When he sets me on the bed, I help him take his suit off and he helps me get my dress off, but he notices I don’t have my panties on.

“You knew that we’ll be doing this?” He says touching my thighs.

“You were still in the mood this morning.” I say getting comfortable on the edge of the bed.

He smirks. He begins to eat me out, I lay my head on mattress, arch my back, and I tug on his hair. He continues to eat me out, I can feel his tongue inside me. He stops and I can see his eyes looking up at me, I whimper.

He begins to finger me. I feel myself about to cum on his finger, he gets up, looks at me, and tastes my cum. I reach out for him and he gets on top of me and begins to make out with me.

After a while, he’s making me scream, moan and gasp. He goes in and out of me, giving me hickeys, the bed banging against the wall. I can’t believe he’s still in the mood.

“You’re a lot bigger then last night Jack.” I moan tugging on his hair.

“Well you are a turn on.” He looks at me and smirks.

“Just fuck me Jack.” I breathe out.

He fucks harder, I scratch his back, I already can tell he’s going to get made fun of.

After all that, we lay on the bed beyond heavy breathing. He was totally in the mood.

“Are you still in the mood?” I look at him.

“Not anymore Y/N.” He looks at me and smiles.

“If you want to do this again, I’ll happily do it, just not when company is around.” I say.

He chuckles.

“Alright Y/N/N. Oh by the way, I’ll always be in a mood for this.” He smirks.

Anytime we’ll do that, he’ll be forever be horny.

[choerypetal]

Author’s blog —

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

So I just finished watching Don’t worry Darling and I am still not over how stunning both Harry is as Jack and Florence as Alice. AND I NEED TO WRITE FANFICS FOR THEIR CHARACTERS with either reader insert 😭

gif credit from @harryisart 🏹

[freedomfireflies]

Jack Shit | Part 3

Summary: In which you and Jack have invited the neighborhood over for a little party.

And not one thing goes to plan.

Jack makes it too goddamn easy.

In fact, you almost feel bad for how effortlessly ruined he becomes the moment you take the control away from him. How desperate. How depraved.

Sure, you both like to tease each other. Like to push the other as far as they can possibly go. And maybe you’ll feel bad about it later, but tonight…no, tonight he gets to play your game.

Tonight, he gets to watch Frank’s hands…on your body.

This hadn’t been the plan. Not originally, anyhow. 

But Jack just had to push. He just had to tease you in the bathroom before your guests arrived for the party just to leave you unsatisfied.

He just had to create this No Touching Rule of his.

No touching each other. Not touching yourselves.

It was ludacris, and cruel, and everything you expected from him.

But you refused to lose.

No. No, you were going to beat him at his own game, no matter how hard it proved to be.

And my god was it hard. 

The evening started innocently enough, but even with this drive to win, you couldn’t keep yourself from gawking at your husband.

Because…how could you not? With the way he was leaning against the wall as he talked to Dean, a cigar in one hand, and a scotch in the other.

The way he’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. The way he’d loosened his tie from around his neck. The way he’d run a hand through his hair before tossing you a wink and a grin.

It was sadistic.

And you’d tried to punish him for it. You’d cross your legs and let the hemline of your outfit ride up to your thighs. You’d swept your perfectly styled hair over your shoulder so he could catch a glimpse of your backless dress. You’d brushed your thumb across your lip to gather the extra whipped cream before sucking it into your mouth.

 And it was working. You could see it was working. You could see his resolve crumble as he took a seat on the sofa across from you. Just out of reach.

Because even he knew the proximity would be dangerous for you both.

The rest of the couples around the living room carried on in conversation as you and Jack prepared for a showdown.

He thought he had the upper hand. Thought he knew you, and what it would take to break you.

But unbeknownst to him…you knew him far better.

With a sly smirk, he threw his arm across the back of the couch and leveled his stare with yours.

So, you did the same. You slide your hand across the cushions until your arm could dangle over the back.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip in thought.

You ran your tongue over your bottom lip with pride.

He relaxed back into his seat to get comfortable, legs spreading in an effort to appear nonchalant.

And with absolute glee, you followed suit, heels sliding across the carpet until your thighs parted, and your dress rode up to your thighs.

You then watched the exact moment he realized you weren’t wearing any underwear.

Nobody else in the room seemed to notice. Nobody else would really even care, but it didn’t matter because Jack looked like he was about to swallow his tongue.

And you were so goddamn proud.

Of course, you weren’t just doing it for him. You were doing it for everybody else in Victory who thought they had some sort of claim over him.

Because he’s your leading man.

Not Bunny’s, not Shelley’s, not Peg’s.

Yours.

You had half a mind to stride across the room and start riding him just to prove your point, but settled for placing your hand on your leg.

You started slow, allowing your fingers to dance leisurely across the soft skin of your inner thigh.

And you watched as Jack did his best to remain indifferent. Had it been any other night, you don’t imagine he would have stopped you. After all, he knows how much you liked to be watched. Teases you about it constantly whenever you insist on leaving the curtains open so the neighbors can watch him press you up against the sliding glass door.

But tonight…no, tonight he wanted you to obey.

And all you wanted…was to slip your hand beneath your dress and give him a little show.

In fact, you were moments away from doing just that when you noticed his eyebrow raise as he met your eye, and mouthed one very specific command:

No.

No.

No, you weren’t allowed to touch yourself. No, you weren���t allowed to do this to him. No, you wouldn’t be getting away with this little act, and he was gonna make damn sure of it later.

And with this fevervant request so strictly demanded of you…what else were you to do?

You shot him your best and most innocent smile before standing to your feet…and declaring the party to be over.

Jack saw right through your charade, smirking to himself as you ushered everybody out, but much to your dismay…Frank decided to linger.

He caught Jack in a conversation about the remodel they were planning, halting your attempt at getting Jack alone. And therefore forcing you to squirm a few feet away as you silently begged Jack to tell him to just fuck off.

But they continued to chat for the next fifteen minutes or so until you three were the only ones left in the house.

And then…something shifted.

Fever by Elvis Presley was next on the record still spinning near the window, and the moment Frank recognized the song, a certain gleam found its way to his eye.

“Oh, I do love this song,” he mused as Jack nodded his agreement. “Say…you wouldn’t mind if I snuck a dance with the lady, would you?”

A bit surprised, Jack shook his head no, allowing Frank to step away from the discussion to turn to you.

A cautious breath caught in your throat as he extended his hand and silently beckoned you closer.

Left with no other choice but to oblige, you smoothed your palm along his as he grinned and led you toward the middle of the living room floor.

It started slow. Easy. Frank was gentle with you and took note of your apprehension as Jack returned to the sofa he had previously been on.

The room was oddly silent, save for the music. And as Elvis crooned the lyrics, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at your husband.

He was sat on the couch, just as relaxed as he’d been before, if not a bit more smug. And he watched you. He watched Frank put his hand on your hip while you placed your fingers on the back of Frank’s neck. He watched Frank tug you closer, your body flush with his. He watched the way Frank watched you.

“Never know how much I love you…never know how much I care.”

You did your best to focus in on the lyrics instead of the striking blue eyes so intent on studying you.

Frank had a tendency to do that. He liked to make people squirm. Make them feel noticed. Make them aware of just how badly they wanted his approval.

You’d hardly cared before but suddenly, there in his arms…you found that you were desperate to please him. Almost as desperate as everybody else in Victory.

Perhaps it was his charm. His effortless ability to draw the attention directly to him. Lure you into his intentions.

After all, one look at him would certainly sweep somebody off their feet. His uniquely appealing features. His deep, authoritative voice. His strong hands…

He held onto you tight. It felt sturdy. Safe, even. And he seemed to like the way your breath would hitch everytime he tugged you closer.

“When you put your arms around me…I get a fever that’s so hard to bear.”

You couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the couples would think if they were still here. If they could be witness to this rather odd turn of events.

You imagined the ladies would be flabbergasted, perhaps even envious of the fact that you were the sole owner of Frank’s attention.

And the men…well, the men would most definitely be jealous. You knew they’d all kill for the chance to dance with Frank and earn his approval, and truth be told, the thought made you smile.

And Jack?

Well, Jack was getting a lot easier to read.

You knew he strived for Frank’s blessing. Why, you weren’t quite sure, but you did understand that you had somehow won the game without even trying.

And now, here you are, getting to revel in your success as Jack silently stews from his spot only inches away.

He’s being forced to watch his boss dance with his wife, and you can clearly see the struggle on his face.

He’s torn between feeling anxious…and so fucking horny.

He’s looking at you like you’re sex on a stick. Looking at you like he never knew pleasure before you. Looking at you like he’s moments away from standing up and just taking you, Frank be damned.

You kind of wish he would.

“Everybody’s…got the fever. That is something you all know. Fever isn’t…such a new thing. Fever started long ago…”

And Frank seems to be having the time of his life as he twirls you underneath his arm before dipping you down, large palm slipping up your bare spine to keep you steady.

And then, his touch falls just past your hip to your leg, pulling at your thigh until he can hook it onto his waist, forcing you closer as your nose brushes his.

You can see Jack revering you both, absolutely wonderstruck by the power you both possess, and you wonder if this display of dominance from Frank is for Jack’s benefit.

But Frank doesn’t seem to care about what Jack thinks.

He only wants to hear from you.

He leans closer, cheek grazing yours as you settle back between his arms, body swaying to the sensual song.

You hear him smile as he prepares himself for the question he’s been dying to ask. “Did you enjoy yourself this evening?”

A bit flustered, you nod. “I did. Did you?”

He offers a soft, gentle chuckle as his fingers tap along your skin contemplatively. “I believe I did. Although, I must admit, I was surprised to get an invite.”

Your brow raises, and you catch another glimpse of Jack just over Frank’s shoulder. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Well…you and Jack don’t tend to do a lot of entertaining,” Frank points out, and you have to admit that he’s right. “I was almost convinced you didn’t like me.”

Despite yourself, you feel your body go rigid in his hold. The last thing you want to do is upset the leader of Victory, so you rush to clear the air.

“Oh, don’t be silly.” You force a laugh. “We adore you, Frank. Everybody adores you.”

He leans back to catch your eye. “Is that right?”

You nod again.

“Well, I suppose I should be flattered, then,” he continues, pausing only to twirl you beneath his arm before guiding you back to him, “that you would both take the time out of your…busy schedules to invite me here tonight. Invite all of us.”

He’s hinting at something but you aren’t sure what.

He begins to smile, tongue slipping over his bottom lip before he dips down to ghost his mouth near your ear. “You really should consider closing the curtains.”

You feel your face flush as he pulls back, already resuming with the dance.

You aren’t sure what to say. You figured somebody would see you at some point, you just…hadn’t expected it to be Frank.

“I suppose there was a better way to tell you,” he finally adds after a moment, still exceedingly amused by your shock. “And, I will admit…I probably should have looked away.”

Your heart is pounding inside your chest, but you can’t quite tell why. Are you nervous? Embarrassed?

Enthralled?

“But for some reason, when it comes to you…” he mumbles, once again meeting your eye. “...I can never seem to find...the strength.”

You feel the air dissipate from your lungs. 

You don’t think Jack heard him. Hell, you aren’t even sure you heard him. Because there is absolutely no fucking way the most powerful man in Victory just divulged his weakness to you.

Absolutely no goddamn way he just put his power in your hands.

“And I always have to ask myself…if you’re doing it just for him,” Frank carries on, refusing you a moment to catch your breath. “Or if you’re truly enjoying what Victory has to offer you.”

There’s a rather tense beat.

“What I…could offer you,” he amends, and your mind reels as you find yourself in Jack’s line of vision once again.

You can see he’s quizzical of what’s being said, but he makes no move to ask or even come closer.

You wonder if you still want him to.

“Because you’re always so good…aren’t you?” Frank adds. “Always take care of us. Always make sure the house is clean, the food is perfect…that your body is ready and available.”

Now, his hand slips from your back to your ass, subtle enough to fly under the radar of your husband, but pointed enough that your lashes flutter.

He stills, allowing you time to stop him. Allowing you time to push him away. Reject him.

But you don’t.

You don’t think you want to.

“And while you’re being so good taking care of us…” he whispers as the song comes to an end. “Who...is taking care…of you?”

The room falls silent as Elvis’s voice fades away, and Frank allows his question to settle before he’s offering you a wink and pulling himself out of your hands.

The room is spinning. Flying. Your chest rises and falls beneath your silk dress as you turn to Jack.

Jack leans forward, elbows on his knees as his attention moves to Frank. “Did you ask her?”

Fuck.

“Not quite,” Frank answers, and your head whips between them both. “Wanted to feel her out first. See if she’d…respond.”

Jack begins to smirk as he looks at you. “And did she?”

Frank makes a satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat as he nods once. “She did. Very well.”

You believe you understand what’s being implied but…you aren’t sure you can even believe…that this…is happening…to you…and Jack…and Frank—

Jack stands to his feet and moves for you, hand coming up to slide along your jaw and encourage your eyes on his.

His thumb strokes your cheek rather delicately given the malicious intention in his eye as he watches you swallow thickly. “So?” he murmurs, dipping down to brush his lips against yours. “What do you say, Angel?”

The decision suddenly falls to you as Frank and Jack dedicate their night and their pleasure to your will.

It takes you exactly 0.2 seconds to decide.

“I say…on your fucking knees, darling.”

Listen...I was playing the Elvis movie version of Craw-Fever and immediately saw Frank dancing with somebody as Jack watched...and then...I believe I immediately blacked out.

So...listen to that song while you read if you want, and get ready for part 4 soon cause I think I made myself a little crazy 🙃

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[vvyvernicus]

Phantom's Requiem

A Black Butler Fanfiction

Summary:

Lucia Santoro is a bound to a fleeting life, her gift a curse of creeping madness. Orphaned and isolated, she seeks solace among spirits, resigned to a fate she cannot escape. With a Grimoire in hand and time slipping away, she journeys to England, where a chance meeting with an enigmatic Viscount may rewrite the story of her final days.

A while back I had posted a teaser for a fanfiction. And I said I'd refuse to post it until I had chapter 2 ready to go. Well... Now the time has come and it's currently up on AO3. A little bonus is this cover art I put together for it.

In a world where demons and reapers exist, I thought I might introduce a new class to the mix... Humans! More specifically, rare humans blessed with special abilities that ultimately lead them to early graves.

This takes place during the Red Butler Arc, where events follow canon until they diverge. An OC, a spirit medium, travels to London from Italy, to experience it during her final days before succumbing to madness. This ultimately leads to her infiltrating the Viscount's party, taking Ciel's place when he's looking for a woman to sell at his underground auction.

While it does have a large focus on the OC, it also aims to add more background to Aleister. I wanted to expand on his character, beyond just a silly comedic relief, making it more realistic and shows more of what's happening behind the scenes.

There are some dark themes in this story that fit in well with the general vibe of Black Butler. Warnings are listed in the tags on AO3.

This is a romance, but also a very unconventional one.

They are not okay 🥲

Feedback is appreciated ❤️

[dragonbma]

Possession AU lore real

“Oh, come on, Jack! Where’s your sense of adventure?” Sammy asked in a joking manner. Her words echoed as if the cavern walls asked the question themselves. She stopped for a moment to look back at her friend. By the faint glow of their torches, she could tell he was getting bored. They hadn’t even been spelunking for ten minutes and Sammy could not understand why he seemed so disinterested. She was doing her best not to spoil the surprise she had for the two, but Jack’s attitude was testing her patience. He would just have to wait a few minutes more. This expedition would be worth it when they reached the main chamber. It’s not too much farther now. They are going to love this.

Jack grumbled. “Not to be a bore, but don’t adventures usually involve treasure? Or danger? Or… anything?” His annoyed expression was enveloped in darkness as he moved his torch close to one of the walls, scanning for anything mildly interesting. Ores perhaps. Behind Jack, Vos shook some of the dust off his boots. At least he didn’t appear to be totally miserable.

“I think you’re confusing adventuring with treasure hunting,” she laughed. “Plus your last ‘brilliant escapade’ almost got Vos killed- I mean, Twisting Death Caverns? Was that really your best idea to wind down after…” she was trying to lighten the mood but stopped short after noticing Vos’ nervous demeanor. He shuffled uneasily. “So… remind me again why we’re back in a cave so soon?” She shot Vos an apologetic look. “Trust me, you guys have yet to see any cave quite like this one…” Jack and Vos exchanged glances and shrugged.

[Sorry for the mini break! I needed a rest after that animatic. Hope you enjoyed this little snippet of Chapter 1 (Sammy’s chapter) of the Vos Possession AU! ^^ I started writing it shortly after my friend wrote her fan version, but I’m currently halfway through this chapter. Bear with me, I’ve never written fanfiction before. Things I’ve learned while writing this: titles are hard, I forget words in the moment more often than I’d like to admit, and I miss spelunking with friends.]

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

For the writer ask! 🫂 🦐 🔪 🕳️ &🏠 any or all pleeeeease 🥰

Thank you!!!! 🥰

chartreuseian beat you to two of these, so I'm just going to copy and paste my answers from those.

🫂- What was your inspiration for your WIP?

Which one? 😂 I guess I'll just list a few.

Inspiration for Enigmatic Confections came from the prompt rivals + lovers (or something along those lines) and I wanted to do something out of the ordinary for it. And my love of The Great British Baking Show.

Inspiration for Mind Over Matter came from noticing that in stories of similar theme it was always Jack or Daniel, so I decided to do a version with Sam.

My Ranna WIP was inspired by my love of the character and an image of her speaking to Kanaan in the avatar chamber and building back to what led up to that.

The Pigeon Keeper Chronicles came from reading some Whumpuary prompts and wanting to join in, but wanting to do a full story instead of just the prompt scenes.

I'll leave it at those for now, because I have a LOT of WIPs and this post will get too long if I list them all.

🦐- Talk about a time when you made yourself laugh or cry?

I've never made myself cry while writing, but I make myself laugh a lot. I definitely cracked myself up thinking about, planning, and writing the little dragon biting Nikola on the ass and I still giggle when I reread the whole thing. 😂

Another part where I made myself laugh was in the last posted chapter of Enigmatic Confections, where I had Nikola and the children interacting. I don't know why it amused me so much, but I thought it was funny and cute, these three interacting and dealing with each other. It was a really fun thing to write and I think it was the most recent bit of writing where I made myself laugh.

(Add on, usually I forget how I reacted to certain things once I'm done with them, because out of sight = out of mind)

🔪- How do you feel about writing fight scenes?

I'm okay with them! I actually don't think I've written many/any in my fanfictions, come to think of it.

It can be interesting, but sometimes it's hard to keep track of where someone is or what they could plausibly do or sustain during a fight.

I've mostly done fight scenes in my original writing so... go violence!

🕳️- Talk about a research rabbit hole you fell down!

For a fic I've actually written? (I've done so much for things I haven't even touched yet!)

That would probably be maternal death and infant death rates in the United States for my SG-1 story The Statistical Worries of a Logical Mind because I wanted to be accurate to what I was portraying in the story.

This led to a few hours of reading about the appalling statistics and looking for a documentary I about it (which I couldn't find) and learning that compared to some places in the United States it is actually safer to give birth in a third world country in terms of maternal death.

I posted the main sources at the bottom of the chapter (I suck at making links).

🏡- Would you live in the world you created? Why or why not?

Well, most of the worlds I've created for fanfictions are directly tied into the canon content, so.... maybe? But if I were living in most of them, it would really just be the same as it is now for me, so I suppose it doesn't really matter.

But I would not live in the world I created in Our Mutual Destruction, for example, even though it's scarily real, so....

I guess most of them, sure, but it would need to be specified for me to give a more distinct answer. Sorry.

[mustachrryluvr]

Broccoli

Jack Chambers one shot 

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: smut, spanking, slight degradation, roughness

-

“Don’t worry, darling,” Jack responded while popping open the microwave and pulling out the package he had placed in it earlier to cook, “We still have broccoli.”

-

- 

“Darling?” 

Jack’s voice ringed through their home as he entered through the front door, coming home from a long day at work. 

Jack had been working a lot lately. He had just been promoted at work and wanted to prove to his boss that he was worthy of the higher ranking, so he had been spending an ungodly amount of hours at the office. 

Y/N was currently in between jobs after coming to the realization that her job was ruining her. She was a shell of a person whenever she would come home from her receptionist job at a local law firm and Jack couldn’t stand to see her that way. So, with him getting promoted, they knew they would still be financially stable if Y/N took a step away from working for a bit to get her mental health under control. 

With having all this time on her hands now, Y/N had gotten back into some old hobbies to fill up her days. Drawing and painting had always been a love of Y/N’s. That was one of the things Jack had initially fell in love with, her passion for the things she loved. The day he came home from work to her in their spare room to find that she had filled it with brand new canvases and a multitude of paints, he knew that she was settling back into herself again. That evening, Jack ordered her a desk and easel to add to the room, and even spent the next day moving out the spare bed in the room so she could create an “art studio” for herself. 

Usually at this time of night, Jack would come home to find Y/N about done with dinner for the two of them. When she didn’t answer him when he called out for her as he walked in the door, he knew exactly where she must be. 

Jack made his way to Y/N’s art studio and could hear her humming along to the music she had playing that was leaking out through the cracked door. 

Carefully, he peaked in the crack of the door, trying not to disturb her. 

“With you all the time…” Y/N sung to herself as she kept her focus on the brush strokes she was creating across the canvas she had infront of her on the floor. 

With a small smile on his face, Jack backed away from the door and walked towards their kitchen, on a mission to make dinner for the two of them while Y/N finished up her painting. 

Jack didn’t have much experience in the kitchen as he was often working late and Y/N would make something before he got home, but surely he could figure something out. 

Shifting through the contents of the fridge, Jack came across some chicken breasts that Y/N must’ve been planning on cooking tonight as they had already been taken out of the package and prepped. He figured it would be easy enough to do something with that. After he preheated the oven, he found himself a baking pan, placed the chicken in it, and then hunted the cabinets for some type of seasoning. After seasoning the chicken to the best of his ability, Jack placed the chicken in the oven before moving on to find something else to prepare to have with the chicken. 

Jack found a bag of potatoes in the lazy susan and decided that mashed potatoes must be a dish he could easily conquer. Before beginning on those, he found himself looking in the freezer to see if they had any of Y/N’s favorite vegetable, broccoli,  to also go with their meal. Jack always found it weird that out of all the choices out there, broccoli was her favorite. But, he wanted to make her a good meal and he knew that would make her happy. 

They had some microwavable packages of broccoli, so, after he found one, he placed it in the microwave to cook for a few minutes before working on the mashed potatoes again. 

Taking the potatoes out of the bag and sitting them on the table, Jack quickly realized he had no idea out to make mashed potatoes and that maybe he couldn’t easily conquer them. 

He leaned his hands on the table and looked down at the potatoes with his eyebrows pulled together. 

“Well…I at least need to mash them,” he said to himself, pushing off the table to find something to mash them with. 

He turned around with his hands on his hips and his lips pulled in his mouth as he glanced around the room. His eyes spotted a bottle of bourbon on the bar cart placed in the corner of the kitchen, “I guess this will do.” 

Jack placed the potatoes in a large bowl, glanced at the bottle of bourbon in his hand, shrugged, and the proceeded to *try* to mash the potatoes with the bottom of the bottle. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Jack paused with the bourbon bottle mid air as he heard Y/N speak behind him. He quickly placed the bottle down and turned to smile at her.

“Don’t look at that, but I’m making dinner! Baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and your favorite,” he said to her as he walked up to her and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her in to him. 

Jack smiled down at her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I missed you today, darling.” 

Y/N hummed and relaxed into him as she looked up at him, “I missed you, too. Didn’t realize you were home or what time it was. I would’ve made you dinner, love.” 

“You always make me dinner, let me take care of my wife for the evening, okay?” 

“Okay, but I don’t think you’re gonna get very far with those mashed potatoes if you keep that method up,” Y/N giggled looking around him at the bourbon bottle placed next to the bowl of raw potatoes. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna get very far if you keep that up,” he responded, voice an octave lower and his eyes growing heavy. 

Y/N looked back up at him, surprised by his switch in behavior. “If I keep what up?” she questioned as her heart started to beat a little faster. 

“If you keep looking so beautiful. Crazy how fast you turn me on just by existing,” Jack murmured against the side of her face, gently bringing his lips down until they graze across her lips. 

They stay like that for a beat, just grazing their lips against one another waiting for the other to make the move to connect their lips. 

Not being able to take it any more, Y/N reached up and grabbed the side of Jack’s head, bringing his lips roughly into hers. This told him everything he needed to know about how their night would go. 

Rough and rushed. 

They were devouring each other as if they had been starved of one another for a lifetime. 

Jack held on to Y/N as he moved her backwards into the living room before pushing her down onto the couch and crawling on top of her. 

He breaks the kiss and looks down at her, “Oh look at my precious little wife. I spend my evening preparing a whole dinner for her, but shes desperately hungry for something else. Hm? Isn’t that right, Darling?” 

“Always hungry for you,” Y/N quietly, breathily responds as she looks up with him with those big eyes that make him unable to restrain himself. 

Without hesitation, Jack lifts himself up to rip Y/N’s sweatpants off her body while proceeding to toss her body around until she laying on her stomach. 

He goes to land a slap against her ass when something catches his eye and he can’t help to lower his hand and let out a laugh instead, his dominant demeanor immediately dissolving. 

“What?” Y/N asks, looking back at him worried and confused as to why he was laughing at her. 

“I don’t even want to know what you have been doing in that studio to get paint all over your bum,” he said through a smile and chuckled as he lightly tapped the few splotches of paint. 

Y/N craned her neck over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the paint he was referring to before responding, “I honestly don’t either, but if you don’t stop laughing at me and just fuck me soon then I’m g-FUCK!” 

She yelped as he brought his hand roughly down on her ass, a loud smack sounding through the room. 

“I’d shut that dumb little mouth of yours if you expect me to give you anything tonight,” Jack said, rubbing the place on her ass that he had just hit. 

Y/N sighed, closing her eyes, “Yes, sir.” She relaxed into the couch knowing that if Jack was in his dominant state that she would be getting exactly what she wanted no matter what. 

He was so pussy-whipped. 

“There she is, been waiting for my good girl to come out.” 

Jack leaned back and brought his hand to the zipper of his dress pants. He undid them and pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to let his cock spring free. He reached down and pushed Y/N’s underwear to the side, feeling how wet she already was. 

“Hmmmm, barely even touched you. What? Does seeing me in the kitchen turn you into a whore for me?” 

“Always a whore for you,” she hummed back as she wiggled her ass aganst his hands rubbing her up and down. 

He removed a hand at the action and brought his hand down in a spank against her ass. “Cmon, don’t be greedy, darling.” 

While Y/N squirmed from the spank she just received, Jack to line his shaft up with her entrance brushing himself lightly against her. 

“Not greedy, just missed you.”

“Missed me? You had me last night,” Jack said as he roughly pushed himself into her. “But I guess I missed you too fuck.” 

Jack began fucking into her so roughly that Y/N couldn’t even catch her breath to moan out. 

He kept his quick pace for a minute before reaching around Y/N’s throat and bringing her up on her knees against his chest. He slowed down, giving her harder thrusts. 

She threw her head back in a moan as he slightly tightened his grip around her throat and began whispering in her ear, “There ya go, darling, there ya go. Let yourself feel it all.” 

“Mmmm, I love you so much, Jack,” she lazily spoke out with her eyes softly shut. 

“Love you forever, always want you to feel good,” Jack responded as he began kissing and sucking on her exposed neck. 

No matter how rough they were with each other, their love was always the number one thing fueling the passion. Expressing their love for one another no matter the intensity of the moment was extremely important to them. 

Feeling he was close, Jack reached around Y/N’s body with the hand that wasn’t around her neck to press his fingers against her clit. 

A whine escaped the back of her throat, her face scrunching up, and her body wiggling in his hold as he began to move his fingers to bring her to the edge with him. 

“Cmon darling, I’ve got you. Just gotta let go for me, yeah?” he said into her ear. 

Immediately following his words, Y/N’s entire body clenched up and she gripped onto Jack’s arms has tight as she could, feeling her orgasm tack control of her body. 

Shortly following, Jack halted his thrusts and released inside of her, his body shuddering has she continued to clench around him. 

They slowly caught their breath and relaxed into one another. They sat peacfully recovering in each others arms when Y/N spoke up, “Jack…” 

“Hm, darling. I got you,” he responded tightening his arms around her to keep her grounded after her orgasm. 

“No, I-is…” she stammered out, “Is something burning? Smells funny?”

Jack’s eyes shot open as he jumped up heading for the kicthen while shoving himself back into his pants. 

He forgot the chicken in the oven. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he chanted as he ran into the kitchen. 

Y/N got up and followed him into the kitchen to see him open the oven as smoke billowed out of it. 

Jack waved the smoke out of his face and quickly grabbed a pair of oven mits to get the chicken out of the oven. 

He threw the pan and burnt chicken onto the counter before slamming the oven closed. “

“Don’t look at that, either,” he let out a breath before looking back up to Y/N whose had was covering her mouth as she tried to keep herself from laughing at him. 

“Burnt chicken and raw mashed potatoes. Not sure if this is much of a dinner love,” Y/N teased with a smile on her face. 

“Don’t worry, darling,” Jack responded while popping open the microwave and pulling out the package he had placed in it earlier to cook, “We still have broccoli.” 

-

a/n

only the second one shot i’ve written and writing smut is still kinda weird for me but i’m enjoying it! omg but jack deserves it bc he’s hot !!! that’s all !!!!

lmk what you think ab it!!

[gumballavocadoharry]

Lost along the way; Jack Chambers:

*Mentions of very offensive language, domestic abuse,  violent child abuse, aggression, violence, sex, drunkenness, slang terms, curse words, vulgar language, death, grief, emotional abuse, outdated views of women, men and children and cheating. *

A scorching heatwave brazed through the pounding streets of New York. The telephone wires echoed shadows over the heated tar pavement on the roads. Buffalo carried only the mist of the wave, but it still lingered over the Chamber household in mid-August. The sizzles of the heat, radiated through Jack's bedroom; a background noise as he flipped through the latest newspaper issue.

Buffalo was a set neighborhood sat serenely in the crowded busy pond of New York. The houses were only inches apart from one another- which to Jack- was better than the overcrowded insecure Brooklyn apartments.

Fresh faced young Jack- a high school graduate with honors- was only twenty years old, yet had the ambition and clarity that would take others a lifetime or several years to acquire. Body solid against the knobby clotted mattress, scanning intently through the Daily Colum. Jack wasn't shabby- a small rent control to a rickety Virginia trailer park would due. Just not here. Not in this house, with his father…..or mother.

Vivid memories of scattered and thrown around plates and glass cups, forks and knives. Beer bottles, all slammed against the walls with harsh crashes and shatters. Despite it being regular, Jack never accustomed himself to its normalcy. Because it wasn't. It wasn't normal to have run through the home with Vaseline covered soaked in ice to numb any whips or switches being whapped against them. Nor, was it normal to spend the cagy night soaking up the misguided blood from the belt welts with a sterile sheet that Jack had pressed over his sheets to not dampen them with his vertebral sores.

Jack would later learn his tip toeing habits came from his childhood. Tip toeing down the stairs for a glass of water, tip toeing up the stairs back to his bed. Tip toeing across his bedroom floor to study for his upcoming middle school tests. One creak was dulling. One creak could send David from his room out to the steps and into a barrage of curses words and threats hulling themselves at Jack, then being yanked up by the collar and thrown into his bedroom.

A glass had broken from this once and Jack stepped on a cracked piece. A bloody spot trail led back to Jack's room and wasn't cleaned until that following Sunday. Looking at the trail made Jack numb. He didn't understand why, but it did.

Last night- the night Jack made up his mind. Get busy living he decided. It had meaning. Last night was when David had grabbed Jack by his collar and threatened him. Throngs of: Pussy, Bastard, Dickhead- thrown at him with ease as if David was talking to a criminal. He would talk to them and about them like that. One of the most well respected detectives of the Buffalo precinct- hailed as a hero for stopping those two robbers who shot the elderly owner of the drug mart only a few miles from the neighborhood. Jack had heard about this at school, rooting Lawrence Jackson, to spill the latest of what had happened.

Jack liked and despised Lawrence. He was friendly, happy, calm, charming…..he had a good father. His father, Marc, was David's partner. Marc was the laid back and easy going type to get the antiheroes off with parole or a lighter sentence. "They're just kids," He would say. "I remember when I used to feel the same way. Parents should really show their children, just how much they love them. Don't ever leave it to fate or a read between the lines kind of guess for them. They deserve it."

Lawrence would brag about how Marc would take him to the ball game or buy him ice cream on hot summer Saturdays after school. Jack even saw the way Marc wrapped his arms around Lawrence after scoring the touchdown for the season. "Oh Renny! You were amazing! My number one guy!" Jack didn't even realize the smile peering across his face watching the father and son from the crowd. Jack could sometimes imagine David and him like that- but it never lasted.

"Jack, get your ass in the car or I leave without you!" Jack grabbing his baseball glove and bat, would have only a few seconds before David's car sped off. Marc was nice enough to give rides to Jack. But a twisted shame would dawdle through Jack. Maybe because Marc knew how rough David could be. And Jack knew he knew. "You dumb fuck- screwing up the whole fucking game for everyone!" David's eyes narrowed, pushing his face very close to Jacks. "You screw up again, and there won't be another season for you, got it!" Jack swallowed hard. He knew what it meant. Another hospital trip for a broken arm plus a bruised cheekbone. It would ruin his season.

A knock sounded against the door. "Jack?" Lucy entered upon Jack's acceptance. "Hi sweetie." Jack folded the newspaper by his side, lending his full attention to his mother. He watched her scrap over his blotchy paint stained floors, that had years' worth of stains longer than he'd been around. Taking a seat on the bed, Jack was forced to meet her silver rain eyes.  "How is everything?" Jack shook his head. "What do you mean?" Lucy bit the side of her lip. "You know… after last night with your father and everything…."

Jack stared back down at his bed spread. "You know that's never an easy question to answer…" Lucy kept her stare on Jack. Jack recognized that stare: the same one she would always give to him as a small child. A thick arch threatened to spread across his eyebrows. She could never see him as the man he was, just this small little child that needed her hand with everything. Lucy sighed. "I know your father can get a bit…rough at times," She paused. "It's just….when you have a family one day, you'll see that it's not easy providing for them and it can make you tired and irritable-"

"It's not an excuse." Jack shot back. "You don't lose your self-control like…." He thought. "Like an animal in the wild-"

"Watch your tongue!" Jack shook his head. He wouldn't take it back and Lucy knew he couldn't. A sigh escaped from Jack- his mother's eyes still following him. "Was there… anything else about Dad?" With a small hiss of ire, Jack almost demanded the answer. Lucy looked down. "He loves you." Jack scoffed. "Sorry…but…" waving his hand, Jack sat back with a smirk on his face. "I'm serious."

Jack sat back up. "Mom…. It is what it is. I've accepted that one way or another- I learned to accept it one way or another." Jack shook his head. "Dad….. Is Dad." Lucy touched Jack's knee. "I love you very much."

I'm sure Jack thought. He dropped the subject. Lucy's eyes met the newspaper. Jack stiffened. Grabbing the newspaper, Jack flipped to the crime catalogue. "A recent carjacking happened by Manhattan." Lucy scanned the paper before up righting herself and nodding. "It's a troubled world, that's for sure." Biting her lip, she turned to Jack again. "Dinner's ready." Sitting up, Lucy walked to the door, leaving Jack's room. Jack continued to stare at the closed door- darting between the burnt reddish brown door and the matching door jam.

Shaking his head, Jack thought about Lucy. Weak. No other word to describe it. Weak. Jack spent years, silently pleading and begging his mother to grab a suitcase- anything and just…..go. Leave everything and start fresh with just the two of them. No more 'bitch' or 'cunt' would be lunged at her for burning dinner or knocking over one of David's beer bottles. David didn't touch Lucy the way he would with Jack. He could snatch her by her shoulders and shove her against stairwell, or push her towards the kitchen after landing a firm pat to her behind.

Jack would never forget the way his father rebuked Lucy for interrupting his TV show. "You dumb broad!" He yelled. The first time Jack would ever see his father whip his hand to his mother's cheek. Blood trickled down the side of her face as she ran into the kitchen and hid herself away until dinner time. Jack hadn't even sat his backpack down before he ran upstairs and used the rope of robe to tie the door knob to the leg of his desk. The next morning, a foundation covered bruise sat boldly on the side of Lucy's face as did the artificial smile she had. At least….Jack hoped it was fake. Nothing was ever mentioned about it ever. Even if Jack thought about asking his mother if she was okay, something would snag him- grab and shake him to keep silent… like maybe she deserved it for being with him, or maybe because she would tell David and lead him to punch Jack in his face. Either way….nothing was said. No one ever said anything. And that was the last Jack would ever see of that.

Jack came down to dinner. David was sat at the center of the family table with a slight scowl across his face and his hands neatly and firmly pressed together in a noose. Jack took a seat in the middle- David always sat to his right, Lucy sat to his left. Jack sat in the middle- seen, not heard. Just the way David liked it. "You've got too much mouth." He would say. "Shut it!" Jack had only tried to tell him that he was going the wrong way during the dense highway traffic. "Shut up Jack! I told you I don't want to hear it!" So he didn't. But it took him two hours to turn around. Jack was sure he would get hit, but he didn't to his surprise. Instead, David kept silent. As long as no one spoke, he would let it go.

Lucy set the rolls in the middle of the table like a centerpiece. A steamy filled trout sat in front of Jack with carrots, peas. "Delicious!" Jack said. "Thanks Mom." Lucy smiled before taking a seat at the table. "Needs more salt." David said, but still scoffed down the trout without so much as a 'thank you' or even eye contact for that matter.

Dinner was silent. The sounds of forks grinding against the plates and the munching of the food were the only sounds expressed. "Jack… you doing anything with that college education?" Jack furrowed his eyebrows. David let out a gruffy laugh. "That's right, you don't have one." Lucy glared at David. "Yet…" Jack said.

"What?" David eyed Jack over bent over posture. Jack shrugged. "Yeah, I mean- it's not over yet." David narrowed his eyes. "You mean, you're actually gonna do something with your life? Not slaving way at this repair shop forever?" He started chuckling. "I guess my son ain't a loser after all." Jack kept his head down. He didn't say a word. Didn't need to. After dinner, he simply cleared away the plates and set them in the sink.

"You know that's women's work." He turned to Lucy. "Get up and do it." Lucy, like a puppy on demand, settled herself from the chair and gently took the plates from Jack's hand. She gave a small tattered smile and started on filling the sink with hot water and suds. Jack stared at Lucy for a bit before turning upstairs. Locking himself in his room, Jack researched harder on places to live. Crumbling the paper and tossing it, Jack sulked, not finding anything available. Laying back in his bed, Jack wouldn't give up. He couldn't. He decided that tomorrow morning would be a new day. A fresh day for looking. The scouring heatwave would still pour, but to Jack, he would wipe the beads of sweat from his head and continue house hunting.

Monday came, and the heatwave was still lingering through the city. Jack was up- overdue for the morning, settling into his navy blue jumpsuit with 'Bernie's Auto Repair' tattooed on the back. A quick sandwich, apple slices and a lemonade canister later, Jack left a gallant letter for his parents on the fridge.

'Went to work, see you later when I get home'

Love, Jack

Scuffling around the corner to meet the eight o'clock bus, Jack paid the fee before sitting three rows behind the driver- eventually getting up and handing his seat over to an elderly man with groceries. "Thanks sport!" Jack fluttered his dimples to the man before gripping the overhead hook of the bus tightly and concentrating carefully on what street Milton Ave was.

Pulling the string, Jack thanked the driver before hopping off the bus and strolled into the repair shop- clocking in his ticket for the day.

Jack gained Bernie ten new customers within a week. Business boomed more than over the last year when Bernie decided an oil and shine would be only for the price of one. "Sometimes you gotta spend money to make money." He said. Jack nodded along, disappearing back under the firetruck red Buick. He didn't know why, but Jack had this overachieving knack for fixing cars. "It's a gift, boy," Bernie said. "One day, when you get a car of your own- specially in New York- you'll be some driver. That car will be lucky." Jack smiled. Wiping the oil from his hands on the little white handkerchief sticking from his leg pocket. "Thanks Bernie." The older man smiled. "No problem- you know, I appreciate ya so much, lemme know if there's anything I can do for ya."

Jack modestly smiled, before frowning a little. "Say, Bernie…. Are there any newly leased apartments or houses around here?" Bernie arched an eyebrow. "Moving out of your folks place?" Jack kept his smile thin and subtle. "That father of yours is a damn sure hero. He really is, you tell him that, ya hear?"

Jack nodded still keeping his rigid smile. "Well, uh…. I hear this place on Caldara…. It was leased a few days ago because a couple decided that there Palm Springs was better suited for them- took route 66. You interested?"

"Oh yes! I've been looking for over a month now… as long as it's not too expensive." Bernie clicked his tongue. "Well, now- in this city- the cheaper you go, you don't know what you might get."

Jack knew this very well. One apartment that was a few hundred a month had a mouse nest under the kitchen sink. Booted from the apartment before the owner even showed up for the appointment. "I've decided- I'm not interested. Thanks, bye, bye." Jack hung the phone up and decided the owner would need to check for themselves why the place wasn't selling.

But this seemed like a sure thing. Jack knew those Caldara apartments. They lived in Brooklyn- the best side that you can get from it- and they were hunched only a little corner away from King's College. The inside was small but habitable little place with a small kitchen, little living room, a bedroom and bath. All he needed. After his shift, Jack didn't hesitate to find the empty apartment. Once inside, Jack checked under the sink, the bedroom, bathroom and any corner where a mouse would nest or spiderwebs would hang with their families or where any furnaces kept eggs of whatever inside. Nothing. "I'll take it!"

"For three hundred every month?" Jack nodded. "Fits my budget perfectly." Shaking hands with Mr. Veldor, Jack signed the lease and was given the keys to his new apartment officially. The shimmer of the golden key felt good in the palm of Jack's hand. It has the ring of departing clanging through every fiber of his brain. Jack made a solid two hundred with Bernie, counting it up every other week. Combining that with a night job for classes would seal a solid hopeful five hundred dollars into his bank every week. Jack needed to be cautious though.

If David saw the flicker flash of the keys, he would bill on more things for Jack to pay for. Once Jack had reached eighteen, David didn't hesitate. "Your grown now, you can pay your own damn way like everyone else in this country." David has dusted the grass sweeps off his tank top from mowing the lawn. Jack glanced between his mother skirting from the kitchen opening and the dining room. A glower escaped from Jack's eyes as he didn't expect Lucy to pipe up for anything.

"Jack," She tried to stop him on the way up the stairs. He turned back. "I'll figure it out…. I always have." Then he disappeared into his bedroom- snagging the job with Bernie's only a week after.

Jack had made it into the house. The keys were tucked carefully inside his uniform and then hid away. David wasn't home yet, giving Jack the chance to rearrange his closet space. He grabbed trash bags from the kitchen and tucked every item of clothing he owned inside them and hid one bag in his closet and the other under the bed- rolling them up into this ball shape. Watches and rings- delicate accessories were put into trash bags- rolled and knotted into this little bag and the carefully sealed inside the closet bag before being knotted tightly.

"When will Dad be home?" Jack asked, seeing his mother come into the house with grocery bags tucked in both her arms. Jack scurried over and took some of the bags from her arms and placed them onto the counter. "He said 'around 8'. It's a case him and Marc are working on that's very detailed." Jack nodded. "Why, did you need to ask him something?" Jack shook his head. "No, I just… wanted to make sure…." Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Jack…" Jack shook his head with a smile. Looking into his mother's eyes again- He examined them for scepticalness. "Well…. I always keep a watch out for him, yeah."

Lucy took a bag of carrots from the bag. "I-I know. I guess…. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Jack gawked- deep into Lucy's eyes this time. Enough for her to see the little lines of his green irises and the shrill potency of vigor he held in them. Lucy couldn't stop staring. There was something in Jack's eyes she couldn't ignore. Something inside of them that was so jarring, it scared her.

"I'm fine," Jack said, voice a little quiet. "I'll be fine." Giving a quick kiss to his mother's cheek, Jack left the kitchen leaving Lucy alone with her thoughts. But even she busied herself in sorting the groceries out for dinner- to bury down what she had possibly known about Jack, but was too afraid to admit to herself. Her sight went to the kitchen opening, then back to the counter. Taking a deep breath, Lucy ignored the echoes in her brain and put the milk into the fridge.

Jack thought hard. He needed to be swift and smart about this. No time for purchasing couches or coffee tables- Jack would take what he already had. His bed, clothes, desk- his room would be stripped of everything that would ever remind his parents of him. He would be gone by Friday. David wouldn't see him, Lucy wouldn't see him….. No one would see Jack again. No more 'greatest detective hero' about David. No more meek and mousey housewife and mother- so saturated in her character, that life washes around her- reality passing her by. Jack sat on his bed. Still realizing his uniform was still attached, Jack stripped it off, stuffing it over the closet rack. The empty closet was useful for something. Sudden flashes of pots, pans, oven mitts and curtains and shades struck Jack's mind. Checking the clock that read 6:02, Jack grabbed his house keys.

"I'm going to go meet some friends at the diner!" He yelled, coming down the stairs. Lucy peered through the kitchen doorway. "Where are you going?"

Jack turned to Lucy. "I remembered I promised to meet some friends at the diner later tonight-  I was tired from work, I forgot. I gotta go now." Lucy watched Jack shuffle out the door. Jack rushed through the front door and caught the passing taxi to take him down to the market.

Miller's Place, was always cheap. A few cents for kitchenware, a few cents for food, a few dollars for furniture. Jack would remember that. He would remember Miller's. With his basket already full, Jack was ready to check out. But something nicked his mind. Bags with 'Miller's Place' on the front would be a dead giveaway in case David decided to ransack Jack's bedroom again. But a crate. A sturdy one where all his kitchen supplies and household needs would be well hidden- out of sight from David… out of sight from Lucy. He didn't trust her. Something that was boiling down in the deep pits of his gut had now boiled over in a flash thought at the checkout line, as Jack settled the thick and wide hickory crate into the basket after it was rang up.

His mother. How own mother could never stick up for him when he needed her the most. Even with all the mustered down sorrow of seeing her so appallingly treated, something in Jack- a spark inside him felt this drench of relief to finally be rid of her was well. She stood by on the sidelines watching Jack get helplessly tortured by the man she married. Would she know just how Jack would cry and scream for her when David would beat him because he failed a test, or force him to take stoney cold showers because he didn't like baths at the time. Lucy would deflate this with inept attempts of reading Jack bedtime stories, or making him his favorite cookies. But it wasn't enough. Jack needed more. He wanted more. He wanted better. That was it- Lucy didn't want to give him better. She didn't take him into her arms and run through the teeming swarm of city-goers in the dusk of night, and find shelter- hidden away where David wouldn't hurt them again.

"He doesn't mean it Jack." Or, "He's just tired. But he wants what's best for you and to do well. So, listen to him and don't doubt him." Would ring inside his head like bells through every night, while he tossed and turned in his sheets, or while he would bandage and tend to every blister or bruise or bloody welt from David's 'best wishes'. Jack was careful not to slam his new items into the cart- his anger filled memories were starting to get the best of him. "Have a nice day!" The lady clerk cheered as Jack waved a polite goodbye before leaving the store.

The clock was now 8:30, making Jack rush home- snagging the first bus to back to Buffalo.

"There he is!" Lucy's sweet voice piped from the kitchen. A delicious savory smell of ham was being delivered from the kitchen to the dining room. Mashed potatoes, butter roasted carrots, biscuits, corn pudding and green beans were sidelined by the centerpiece ham in the middle. David, sat in the center as usual with a serious frown over his face. Jack bit his lip before coercing a smile. Carrying his bags towards the stairs. "I'll be right down." Jack carried the bags and shoved them into the crate as best as he could. Closing the closet door, Jack was met with the sound of footsteps stepping closer and closer toward his door. Jack- quick on his feet- swung the door open and was met face to face with Lucy. Somehow… to his slight relief. "Dinner's ready." She scanned the bedroom over Jack's shoulders, trying hard to peer around the gaps of his frame that stood in the middle. "Alright. I'm coming right now."

Jack waited for Lucy to follow him down the stairs- she did, chugging behind him with question curiosity. Jack took a seat at the table. Taking in the aromatic whiff of dinner, Jack grabbed his fork and knife and waited for his turn. A ping pong toss of whether to share the news with his parents or keep hush until he could safely move everything from the home to his apartment. Jack decided to keep silent. Keeping his daze mostly on his dinner, Jack only looked up occassionally into his mother's eyes. But Lucy was detailed. She was scanning for something- anything to conclude the clambering dyspneic thoughts. She could only catch glimpses of Jack's eyes. Like beads of lint in the light that echoed cotton or dust was nearby. But something in his eyes changed- except she couldn't quite place a finger on it. Did it change suddenly? Was it always there? Had she just not have noticed?

It was bogging down inside her deeply, like a stick in quicksand- snatching it down with every second. Something about Jack's deameanor had changed. They way he walked, the way he spoke- the jarring way he would bore into her eyes with every conversation between them. Glancing between Jack and David- the carried the same eyes, similar jaw lines, the same creases around their nose and under their eyes. The same tight stiffness their jaw would hold everytime something upset them. But David's eyes were different. They were firm, fierce and brash. The jade green would mix in this tonic of arrogance- something Lucy found appealing and rebellious when she was younger. But looking into her son's eyes- the didn't shoulder the same weight. They carried its own.

Jack's eyes were firm when angry, cooing when soft, playful and giddy when happy. He could be happy- he could be soft. He could be a man. A real man. 

He would never be like David. Lucy knew that. 

Raised in the era where marriage was something only Lucy could hope for. A good secure future was in the palms of a man who could give her everything she wanted. Money, housing, the exspensive clothes she could only dream of placing over her body. He could give her the love and attention she desired; the girthy gauzy touch over the nape of back, or the twidling fingers brazing over her warm rosy cheeks. David- tall, dark umber hair and jaded green eyes with golden blades sharpening through them and thick muscles with quivering veins that crawled under the flesh of his arms every time he flexed them even a little. 

His hand craddled Lucy's dainty one in his grasp. The way his arms carried her into their new home- the Buffalo one they shelter in now and for decades to come- gently set her down on the couch like drape slung over the back of the chair for modest decor. Honeymoon days were the best- two weeks of David's masculine proclivity filled the home along with her peach cobler in the way she hoped. Then the first fight. 

David's confident voice suddenly became maybe to abrasive or too rasping. The words would fly from his lips and jab themselves into the laceration of her deepest hollow flesh. But, a bank account and a cozy home could sweep those words under the rug and store back into the urn that was always kept on the shelf, but never touched except for sweeping. The perks of being Mrs. Chambers, was everything to Lucy. She once called this out to her friend, Diane Marlow, who she had managed to make a girl's date with- a casual tea time at the Kettle. 

"He does that sometimes." Diane perked up, sipping up her tea with speed as to speak what had just been spoken to her. "Sometimes...." she looked to the side. "Lucy.... I'm not trying to butt into your marriage but- I think.... maybe that's a bit too far." Lucy crooked the side of her head and raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" Diane swallowed. "All I'm saying is... David shouldn't talk to you like that. I know, he has a temper but-"

"Everyone makes mistakes, Diane. David.... is wonderful. He would never hurt me intentionally." "Don't you mean at all?" Lucy huffed. "I suppose Ethan is just perfect, isn't he?" Diane furrowed her eyebrows. "No. He's far from that- but he doesn't call me out of my name everytime he comes home from work tired or hungry, if that's what you mean."

Lucy looked around. "I needed this Diane. Don't you understand? For a woman... the rules are different. This might be the closest I can get into a future."

"Lucy," Diane sighed. "A woman can still dream and want. It's not that she shouldn't have to- it's that if she doesn't want to, then she can decide for herself what type of future she really wants." 

But Diane could understand. She knew how much marriages were watched and scruntinzed closely by the community. A woman could divorce.... and be shunned and looked on as if she were just a failed attempt to what was expected from her. But unlike Lucy, Diane didn't hold herself to such high expectations. She loved Ethan for who he was and what they could both give to each other through love. Lucy would watch they way Ethan pulled out Diane's chair. Or the way he would press butterfly kisses to her blushed cheeks. It scalded Lucy had badly she craved that. But a fire inside her burned heavier. Ethan wasn't the up and coming city dectective to ring in a infallible reputation with the city- nor did he have a house in between the rush of the city. A car was something that wasn't accessible for the couple yet and stung something in Lucy. Seeing the budget made wedding, the careful cost reception and the two layer cake, somehow sent a judgemental snag inside of Lucy that she couldn't rid.

Her wedding- would be perfect. The right crisp white flowers, the perfect four layer cake with the little bride and groom at the tippy top, the perfect dance for the reception afterwards- Lucy could see it all in her head bouncing around like dodge balls. And that's what she did all her life- dodge. Shunning looking too tough for a man to come and allure with her. Dodge stepping outside of the kitchen where her skills would be judged and belittled by her dearing husband, who demanded the best. She felt more readied for it, rather than some disappointing workshop type achievement or doctorate degree that wouldn't suit someone her type. David, the perfect man- muscular and manly man type to fill the role of purpose in her life. Watching her mother, her aunts, her sisters and cousins all court with their fellas, as they strolled down this destined line of marriage, children, cooking, cleaning, sewing- keeping the house together- keeping herself together at all times. It was when Lucy realized outside appearances do matter, and if they didn't, then there would be nothing. Nothing but a hollow shell of herself.

"Kids. Imagine David- a little boy or girl, swinging in the backyard, or running through the kitchen for a snack? It'll be lovely." David didn't exactly deny this fantansy. In fact, he didn't mind children. He just, liked them to be a certain type of child- but wouldn't acutally knock the idea off the table. "Really?" He said, lighting his cigar. Lucy snuggled up next to him. Looking into her eyes, a smile finally spread across David's face. "Alright.... we'll try it."

Jack was born a year later.

Despite the immense pride and sentimentalism that ran through Lucy, it would also be the first time she realized how off track life could go. 

Jack- born a few weeks early, but otherwise healthy- had this raging spirt, even while he lived in a small incubator. This was reassuring to Lucy, as she was told by midwives that premature babies didn't have the best survival rate. But Jack wasn't too early. Born into the hospital's latest technololgy, he thrived in his little glass box. His lungs filled with energy as he would kick and scream when the nurses tried to change his diaper, or how he quickly learned to latch when his hunger got the better of him. "Seems to be perfectly healthy." A delight pecked through both of the new parents. Jack was an easy baby for the most part. But like most wives, Lucy did most of the childrearing to know that. Even though in good health, the occasional worry still slithered through Lucy's mind sometimes of Jack being ill or developing a serious sickness.

But, a perfect little boy nonetheless. But to David, it wasn't until Jack hit one, when Lucy understood that life wasn't perfect again. She could hear Jack's cries and screams from being slapped or whipped for little mistakes. She could feel the tremble in his body when he would get in David's way and cause trouble. But for Lucy, reassurance was enough. It was her role as a mother to doll up the jangling mistakes of the father's temper as misunderstandings or tough love. Looking into those little green eyes- eyes that needed his mommy to swoop in and take control. But all Lucy could find herself doing was rub his chubby cheek and kiss his forehead. "It'll be fine sweetie.... wanna bake with mommy?" 

Sometimes, Jack would stay tied to the apron strings, other times, he would run away to his room and stuff himself in the closet. Her heart twinged. She wanted to scoop her boy into her arms and shield him from the dark world. But the fire- wedged deep inside her kept burning brighter and brighter. A woman had to have it all together at all times. Especially, her household. Jack was made to hush over his father problems. Lucy was made to pretend that everything was all fine, and that David was just tempermental at times. At times, she would dress Jack's wounds with ointment and peroxide- and a dab of her foundation to ease the tender hue of the bruise on his lip or the black eye surrounding his orbital. 

She sent Jack to school that way. And it was harmless. At least, children weren't supposed to be that intelligent- be seen and not heard stood for a reason. So, that's what she would gently remind Jack to do. If no one asks, then keep quiet. If someone does, then pretend like nothing happened. Looking into those innocent eyes- Lucy knew she had underestimated her little boy. He was a smart cookie and tough one. Unlike her, he didn't sit back and let David hit and punch. Sometimes, and eleven year old Jack would swing a bat- trying to intimidate David with his batting skills. Jack could run. Joining little league back in the third grade, Jack knew how to dodge a belt or switch with a sharpness sometimes. He knew where to swing and how hard to hit David- but never did. He was a good boy- a strong boy.

He had guts. He would mouth back- show teeth like a growling dog when provoked. Carrying the same temper his father did, Jack held this certain control in himself that David couldn't. Lucy could see how much Jack knew the ropes of the house. But.... he bite back. David said 'no game' because of a broken vase; Jack would sneak out the door and hit a home run through the yard. David would force a dress on Jack, because if 'Jack wanted to act like a bitch, he would get treated like one.' 

Jack walked to school in his tank top and summer shorts that day in the frigid twenty degree weather. 

If Jack was told to 'shut up', he would be first to pipe a loud shrill scream across the room and run out of David's sight. David burned up Jack's favorite toy truck in the fireplace out of drunkness- no sympathy, just flat callousness. Jack, later than night, smashed all David's beer in the driveway and through the backyard. 

David burned Jack's records; his favorite collectibles from over the years. Stifling the tears, Jack went out later that night- dressed in black on black- and set fire to every desk inside the downtown presinct. Using vodka bottles and lighting them with matches. Jack would forever feel ashamed of this act in the thick billow of teenage hormonal anguish. Something even Roger would have to find out when he as Jack's age. The aftermath was burnt rubble of every last framed honor that was credited to David. "Fireman said, it was a vodka flame. Probably some angry kid over their father going to jail or somthing..." The chief said. No fingers were pointed to Jack- not even David could point. 

As far as everyone knew, Jack was in bed wallowing over his burnt records. But deep inside, Lucy knew. She just didn't tell. And Jack knew she knew.... and he would never say; something....Lucy had to learn to accept.

Jack mellowed as the years went on. But that flame that fanned inside him still burned on and on. It never died. Jack didn't need perfection to be accepted.... he knew what the world was and he accepted that for what it was. 

Lucy could never understand the look in Jack's eyes after winning the seasonal game, or finishing with the honors in high school or scoring the perfect first date with, Ruby Heimen. Had Jack been a more mousey type of child- it would be different. He would've etched himself into his mother's arms- not into the blazing brutal flames of his father's temper, with his own sparks. Quiet and dutiful- like Lucy- obeying every command like how he was supposed to. He was a child, after all. And Lucy was a woman. A dutiful wife and mother- Assimilating into her place like she had wanted. Like she was supposed to.

Don't fan the flames too hard, keep them contained in your little box she thought. Don't let passion burn brighter then your place in the world. Follow the rules- and you'll be safe, like promised. Like her mother promised. So, she promised this to Jack. Never aloud, but subtlety. 

Jack would understand why she couldn't protect him. She hoped he could maybe even agree that she could nurture his childishness with hugs and kisses, fresh baked cookies, and gentle touches and sing song voices. That David was his father, and fathers always knew best. And for that, she knew best. But Jack- had this passion. The simmering flame that Lucy had fought for years, was Jack's fire. It burned brightly in Jack, never dying- even through the thick marsh of jaded sorrow- something in Jack, never died. That spark in his eyes held something that Lucy could only wish. Even her best intentions couldn't credit that from him. Every 'no' was met with a 'I will anyway'. And Lucy could never admit it to herself. She would never admit why it never fizzled. Looking into those eyes-favoring David's- but more. It held something inside them that Lucy could never have. Something she wanted for herself was now sitting in soul of her son.

But Jack was born with it. "I'll be fine Mom." Was something so natural for such an unknown reason, would drip from his lips like they were tattooed on his tongue from birth. Maybe she wanted to believe she would understand- how rooted Jack was in his beliefs. His gut instinct was his compass and that's what he followed. And for that, he would be fine. The outside typical surburan family that consisted of mother, father and son. But on the inside was this push and pull tug-of-war between Jack and David was something that became her everyday; she hated to see it. She couldn't bare for anyone else to see it. But it was there. Lucy didn't know when it started, but it was there. And that's how it always was in the Chamber home.

But years later...she would know. She would see that particular look on the face in every stranger, but Jack's would never change. A certain natural in his eyes that held that flame. An unwafting flame of content... of freedom. He was prisoned by circumstance, but liberated by will.

************************************

A fresh dew early morning; chill and lukewarm without the panging heat of mid morning and afternoon lingering.

Jack was at Bernie's, working on Pontiac- greese stains splashed over his cheeks. "Hey there Jack!" Jack turned for a minute, greeting the old man with a smile. "That lady- you fixed her Ford for- she really loved it. She tipped ya a few cents." A smile fell over Jack. "Thanks Bernie," taking two quarters out of the eighty cents, Jack handed them to Bernie. "You deserve it too." Bernie gave Jack a kind look. He appericated Jack's work ethic a lot, but his kindness the most. "Young fellas," Bernie put it, "don't make much time for an old man like me. You're special Jack, you know that."

Bernie thought for a minute. "You have a car?" Jack looked up and shook his head. "No sir." "Well, you got one now," Bernie ushered Jack with his pointer and led him to the backyard of the shop. "Some man came in and dropped this off. He said it was junk and that it don't work no more." He turned to Jack. "If you can fix it- car's yours." Jack's eyes widened. It was the most gorgeous navy blue Ford he'd ever seen. Sitting amongst the grass and the stacks of tires, Jack could almost picture himself driving it. "Oh thank you so much Bernie! I don't know how to thank you!" Bernie smiled. "You're an excellent worker- I figure that's about enough."

Jack finished up the cars for that day. Then he stayed overtime working on the Ford- fixing the broken shifts, replacing the broken pipes, and oiling the gears. And then- the headlights popped on. Then the engine started. And then..... Jack drove it home. Jack sat in the driveway- thinking up his next move. A new car, a new apartment, small furniture. Jack got out of the car and made his way quietly in the house. It was past dinner, and the house smelled of chili spices and garlic. But Jack ignored that. Instead he tip toed up stairs and moved the crate in the backseat of the car. Making a second trip, Jack grabbed the trash bags of clothes and stuffed in the trunk before peeling over to his new apartment. 

Looking around the empty spaces, Jack decided that in the morning, he would move everything out of his home. He would call some guys over and they would move his bed and desk out of the haunted home he resided in and into his new home. A shrilling chill crawled down Jack's spine. A static shock of excitement and enchantment overflowed him, as he found his legs jumping high and then carefully hitting the ground as not to disturb the sleeping neighbors. Jack would call Bernie and ask for the morning off and that by late afternoon, he would work until late evening. Then he would call Charles and John, to help move his bed and desk with the promise of cold beers and a few dollars. He had it all set. It would be the perfect escape from the years- the 19 years of vigorous maltreat that he suffered at the hands of his father. All the tears, the screams, the fights, the harsh words- all rooted and conjoined in this vein of David. Memories of the smell of  hot leather would sting through his nose from time to time. Sometimes, the hair on his left arm would raise slightly with more goosbumps; David's favorite arm to use when he pressed a hot skillet to it or slap the upper arm when Jack stood in his way a little too long.

Jack stood solid on the floor. His eyes brimming with tears. The hole was deep- deeper than Jack thought... or wanted. Jack could rebel-he always did- but it still didn't take it away. The horror he felt of making David angry and the slew of degrading threats that would be pounded into him for the tiniest mistakes. Jack would never tell anyone of his agility skills origin; he could curl himself into ball, wedging himself in the corners where David couldn't see him. Or how flat he could make his body from laying under his bed for hours until David sobered up. 

Jack fought for his life from day one until today. Jumping out the belt's way to protect his legs, ducking down with sharp speed- protecting his face from punches or shifting himself out of the way from David's slaps. It made David angrier sometimes. He would be chased, sometimes down the neighboorhood blocks- where he would hide in the tree at the park, around the corner of Mr. McGail's house. He was decent. Just watching from his front porch at the spectical sometimes, when David would ask where Jack went, he'd point him in the opposite direction. Although, Jack hadn't found this out until middle school. "I've been beaten a few times in my life..." He started. "I just don't think it's right- and that's my take on that." 

Jack made a habit from that moment on, to be Mr. McGails personal helper on some summer days when the lawn needed mowing or his driveway shoveled after glowering winters. It was an indicate of Jack's personal graditude. And Mr. McGail knew it- up until someone else moved into his home after his passing. It was that fall. And Jack had felt this emptiness nest inside him. A quiet pity of the nice elderly man who never knew how much he saved him. That was also the last summer, Jack would ever be chased by David. His age finally caught up with him- so he simply stopped.

Jack liked to think Mr. McGail was above the clouds, giving him a shady wink for the nonsense they caused in front of his home. Maybe a slight nod of just helping a kid out.

But Jack didn't have too much of it. That's how it always was. Jack defended Jack. Jack barked back, Jack hit back, Jack ran back. He had to. Even with his mother's gentle words and generous touches, it wasn't enough. He needed power- something- anything to shield him from David. He couldn't afford to live life- he had to live on the edge. Ready to spring out of bed when David would come into the house slamming the door. Ready to dart from Andy's house, only a few minutes past curfew. Ready to shove all his teddies and treasured toys into the darkest corners of his closet.

Ready. That's how Jack was born. Ready.

Jack knew pain. He knew survival. But he knew love. He knew how to hug himself on tired nights when his welted back hurt. He knew how to bandage his own elbows and knees, and stitch the rips in clothes after being dragged by the fringes on David's drunk days. Nights were the best. Jack was never a child too afraid of the dark. He loved the solitude. To him, it was thinking time. Time to reflect and ask himself the important questions. What he would do the next time David hit him? Or how should he respond the next time his toy was smashed? In the light of the moon, there was Jack in his little bedroom, spending time with himself. He loved spending hours crafting little robots or figurines from clay or loose screws he would find. Jack- watching his mother- knew how long to press an iron onto a set of jeans before smoothing them out carefully. He knew how long to bake cookies in the oven and what times to check on spagehetti while it boiled in the pot. 

Jack knew that a glass of milk and a little debbie would sometimes make David's internal voices less harsh. He knew hugging your teddy can turn nightmares into dreams. He knew to cursive his name onto a piece of paper and how make paper airplanes fly across the sky- launching from the backyard.

Then by middle school, Jack loved baseball. He tried pitching. It was alright. But batting was perfect. Everyday pent up emotions were the bat, and his problems were the ball. Striking hard against the ball and scoring high points for the team became his field. Well known enough for David to place bets on him with the other fathers. If he even showed up to a game. Sometimes he would, just for the bets. Other times he wouldn't because the bar was open and waiting. Sometimes....Jack would lose. And David- losing a bet- would smack him across his little face. "You fuck everything up. Stupid dumbass little shit!" Spitting in his face, David would grab Jack and throw him in the backseat of the car and drive home cursing his name under his breath.

That's who David was. And Jack accepted that. He held no expectations to him, nor would ever be able to. Jack could look around and see the different fathers displaying their tough love with soppyness to it. He craved it. He nurtured that warm feeling in his heart everytime a male teacher or one of his friend's fathers would give him a gentle pat on the back or and rub their hands over his mop of hair. It was just something about the way Jack's heart would flutter when seeing cartoons of Dads giving squeezing hugs or loud echoing kisses to their offsprings. This sentimental affection was love. Jack- a twenty year old- still felt the same squeeze of his heart everytime a father carried that chunk of affection. His love language.

A language only a few people would understand, like him. How much children needed those kisses on their cheeks or those bear hugs against their bodies. Bedtimes stories on papa's lap and funny silly voices or gentle cooing voices for pleasure or reassurance. 

Jack, promised himself, his children would understand the delicate language of love. His sons and daughters would be wrapped in his arms and his smile would be only for them. His dreams would be of his wife laying against him in the grass while the children ran around the yard happily. And that's all he could want- happiness. Jack, was a happy person. A good person. He would never hurt anyone- not even a little fly. He just... had to protect himself from David. David stood on the other line of wanting to break his spirit. He wanted Jack to sink so low and so deep into the cold slooshy wet mier of pain, that love would die. Happy would die. 

Jack would die.

Jack had dreams. He learned to have them. Just like he learned to sew and cook and make bruises disappear and cuts and scraps stop bleeding. And Jack had those big dreams- high and bright. Like the apartment he stood in- feet strict to the floorboards. And maybe the college he wanted to be apart of; King's College only a few blocks away from his townhouse. Engineering would be his major. He would do what he loved; crafting things from scratch. Making a life of burning down the old and building up the new.

And he would become a bartender to pay for the classes and work for Bernie to pay for the townhouse. And he would one day leave the crowded city- taking route sixty six down to the California hills. Jack knew his wife would be there, and they're home with the lush backyard where their kids would play. A blonde haired little girl- favoring his wife from every detail of her face, and a little brunette boy- vivid eyes like himself with the same ambition that sparked his early arrival into the world. It was all waiting. Everything waited for Jack- motioning him to take that first move- that first step towards the rest of his life. And so.... he would burn it all down.

He had to. He couldn't spend even another night in that house. His future was his escape from the dread decorum that ran the household. He had to prove this to himself. That he could be free. That Jack Chambers, did not suffer in vain. He did not believe that men had to be uptight, or women had to be dainty, or children had to be just mere echos of convenience.

Jack would settle the mental battle he fought for years. He would prove that even before the sense of maturity and experience kicked in, that this gut feeling- stronger than the rest- was his saftey net. That his instinct is what moved him to burn down the presinct, and smash those beer bottles against the hard pavement of the driveway. That sewing the rips in his own jeans was more than childhood education or curiousity of how things were done. That from the moment he heard the rash voice of his father, and weak cries of his mother, that he was correct. That he could do better. He was better.

That he deserved better. Looking into the face of morals before he even understood what they meant, was something inside him all along. Defending himself in the face of bleak iniquity and daring himself in aftermath of consequences became his life. And it would always be apart of it. Unafraid to challange the laws or stomp over bad authority.

Unafraid to take himself over the lines of perfection and duty, and into the blades of a certain unsureness. So for that.... he would set it on fire. He would wake up, stare his parents into their eyes and tell them he was leaving.

And with his hands tied, watch it all blaze and burn down, before resting to a cooling burnt ashed grave. And he would stand in those ashes and look at them. Then he would kick up his sneakers and scrape the ash off his soles and keep walking. Not looking back for a minute, a second or a lifetime. His life- would finally be his own. And his dreams would be his reality. A new perspective on what life truly could be.

Walking out into the hallway, Jack took one last look around at the apartment before closing the door and locking it.

****************************

The wails of firetrucks streamed down the block. Taking a passing corner around the Chamber home, the engines honked and sped only a few blocks down the street towards the left of Central Ave, where someone had set fire to the Jenn residence, 'The porcelain house' as some people called it because of their all white exterior and shiny glass designs inside.

But the Chamber household did boil. 

Jack stood in front of a sobbing Lucy and a disgruntled David as John and Charles moved around them- pulling dresser drawers down the steps and into the back seat of Jack's car. Then the hollow frame of the dresser came and moved around them, and then the mattress, and then the bed, finally halting with Jack's desk.

Professionals, as Jack called them- not missing a beat or dropping one fragile item to the floor.

David turned and scowled at Jack. "After everything we've done- and you're gonna just take off and leave!" Jack kept silent but nodded, closing his eyes briefly and opening them to David's angry ones. "Ungrateful son of a bitch- when I was your age- I worked my ass off to take care of my folks- not just leave them behind in the dust like the way you do!"

Jack knew this wasn't true. David grew up in foster care all his life.

Jack didn't bat an eye. "It's not personal-" "Oh! 'It's not personal' " David mocked. "It is personal! You only care about yourself! Where is this new place anyway?!" Jack shook his head and turned to his mother. "Mom....I'm leaving now." Lucy turned to Jack. Soppy tears dripping down her face with a sorrow filled stare. "Please...." She managed to beg. "Don't go." 

"I have to." David scoffed. "Ungrateful pussy." Jack didn't argue the logic. Clutching his knuckles, Jack had made a promise to himself and he intended to keep it. Looking down, Jack saw the last of his items being placed into the tow along cargo space on the back of his car. Taking a deep breath, Jack narrowed his eyes to David. "Goodbye Dad.... take care." His voice sturdy and unwavering, he brushed past him and hugged Lucy. Placing the house keys in her palm, he looked into his damp and puffy eyes. "Take care Mom...." Kissing her cheek, he continued to stare into her eyes until they were completly empty. "Take care...." 

"I love you Jack!" She called as he stepped aside from her. Turning around and meeting her gaze. "I love you too." 

Jack turned to David, whose eyes were filled with absurd fury. Jack- without thinking- wrapped his arms around David and pressed a small kiss to his cheek, before quickly letting go. David's eyes softened. The crease in his brows became less prominant and his fist unclenched themselves a bit. But Jack still held a certain sterness in his stare. His mind even rambled reasons for his sparodic affection towards his father. Maybe because it was just common decency. Maybe a heat in the moment type gesture. Jack would never know; not changing his feelings of David, he would be left in the dark of his actions until one rainy Sunday when he would sit with his wife staring down at the burnt mahogany box that held what was left of David.

Biting the edge of his lip, Jack waited. Waited for David to respond to what he had just given him. A leaden silence filled the room for a moment, as David was gasping inside to find the right words or the right gesture- anything for this sudden blow of love his son presented him after it being thrown back into his face so many times by himself. But this time was different. Maybe a dense ring of finality rang heavily through his bones. And that touch, would be the last he ever felt of Jack. The last he would smell his seasoned amber and musk cologne against the ridge of his neck. The last time he would feel his son's bulky strong hands touch the delicate pare of his back.

Staring into Jack's eyes- vividly jade and ardent- David couldn't speak. His mouth was paralyzed shut and his lungs were blowing out steam from his nostrils like how they did in a crime scene where the body of whoever laid flat on the ground while the killer ran free and undetected. A survival instinct that he carried all his life, had now promoted itself to something he struggled to comprehend for years. Love. And something about that.... he just couldn't let himself attach to.

Jack tightened the backpack over his back and turned away, taking the final steps through the house, to the front door and then closing it without looking back even once.

The house fell silent and David stood even quieter wondering what he was to do and what he just done.

*****************************

A hawkish chill lingered through the fall air. School was in session; Jack had recently enrolled over the summer into King's College for the semester. Engeineering and mechanics were Jack's primary classes amongst mathamatics and science.

Picking up the night shift with the local tavern only a few streets from his townhouse, Jack worked as the bartender. Pouring drinks and serving them to desperate customers earned him a few hundred dollars every other week along with the gracious tips he would receive from his excellent service. It payed for his semester and earned him extra money for sudden repairs or for a night out in the city for a decent dinner whenever his energy couldn't hold him up to the stove to cook another pasta meal. It was the tavern job that he worked- got him into cigarettes. Lighting one every night after a rough shift with the rowdy patrons. Jack, would sometimes help himself to the swigs of a Bloody Mary from time to time during long hours.

Maybe it was to dull some of the pain he felt inside too. The sudden shift of how life can take such a quick turn into a mucky ditch.

Late September was when Jack had come into work for Bernie. Hours had passed and he hadn't shown up on the usual six o'clock bus he usually took to arrive bright and early for the shift. Jack was always one hour later. But this day, an icky trace dropped into the pit of Jack's stomach. He couldn't pinpoiny exactly when it happened. Maybe while he was fixing Mr. Hoover's Duesenberg, or Ms. Malorie's Bentley- but sometime around that time, Jack had checked his watch and the clock had already struck twelve. It was his lunch break when he drove down to Bernie's tattered old apartment by Central Park. Down the rickety street where he slowly crept up to his floor and found Bernie still in bed. 

Jack's heart fell into his throat. Somehow his feet couldn't move him to Bernie, but pushing himself- almost tripping- he did. Bernie didn't stir once. Trailing back downstairs, Jack alerted Bernie's neighboor, Donna, that Bernie was dead and to call an ambulance. "What's his pulse?"

Jack shook his head. "He doesn't have one.... I'm sorry." 

Waiting to the side as the ambulance drivers cocooned Bernie in the white sheet while on top of the stretcher, Jack felt small tickles against his face. His nose became more labored in his sniffs of air, but Jack hadn't realized he was crying until Donna placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and gently wiped the tears dripping off his chin.

"It'll be alright, child. He was a good man." She turned to Jack and smiled faintly. "You take of yourself, ya hear?" Jack nodded. A sniffle escaping him. He turned to Donna with a somber smile. "Thank you so much.... you take care too." 

A week later, the shop closed. Another week passed- someone bought it. It was no longer a repair shop but a gas station. 

Jack and Donna took the liberty to clear out Bernie's things. Donna with his apartment, and Jack with the shop. Bernie had no family, so the two held a quiet burial for him with candles in his hands and prayers above his grave. After that, they parted ways, but would forever share the moment between them.

Jack however, kept his old uniform. Tucking it away safely in storage, he would always remember the first job that gave him the opportunity of a fresh start.

****************************************

Working half into two in the morning- picking up extra slack- Jack had forced himself out of bed and into the bathroom for a quick shower. Then a solid breakfast of coffee and toast before leaving the apartment and fleetly saying 'hi' to Emily. Evans, who lived a little ways down the hall. She wasn't too old, but rather looked in her early thirties. Tall and curvaceous built, wavy auburn hair and amber eyes. Jack found her sweet, pretty and kind. But, was too busy to fair any attention back her way. 

Skiling down the stairs, Jack piled into his car and drove down to the college and made it inside at the usual fifthteen minutes before class like he always did. Grabbing the books and notebook from his locker, Jack made it into class with ten minutes left to spare. 

May Hollowood. The girl he kept locking eyes with for some reason, just happened to be right across from his desk this morning. May was beautiful, and she knew it. A Dorothy Lee smile and a Marion Davies far away look, as Jack would describe. Thick flamming red bob cut locks, light pearl blue eyes, deeply dimpled cheeky smile with the most reddest lips sealing over the pearly smile she flashed everytime she saw Jack. What could she be doing in this class? Was the though that ran through Jack's mind. Mathematics class- Jack didn't totally care for the class, and held no objections or chauvinism towards a woman wanting to pursue any type course or career.

But, May wasn't the type of girl that took her studies seriously. She talked to every Joe, Paul, and Ben in the college and was always found twirling her hair during class, rather than jotting down notes of any kind. Jack kept his focus keenly on the words of his professor and the equations he wrote on the board. Trying to solve them in his head, Jack found it hard to focus with May's eyes knowingly on him. A last resort: Jack wrote the problems down for later and promised himself that he would work on them before work. Slight exasperation washed through Jack. He decided to politely ignore May for the rest of the day.

May wasn't the only girl to lust herself to Jack. Kelly Henderson loved the way Jack's bangs would appear in front of his face when the strainds of his slicked hair, would nudge over towards the front of his face. Annabelle West was fiercly attracted to Jack's confident posture with his back pressed against the wall, smoking a cigarette, while scanning the students that passed him. The there was Sally Beckett who could almost imagine herself against Jack's tall lanky figure with his bulky arms around her waist while she stared into his emerald eyes and let the heart curve of his lips press on her cheek.

But May followed Jack. She felt more than simple attraction- deeper than the ingenious thought Emily Evans carried everytime she saw Jack lock up his door and stride down the steps. Letting the vision of his protective grasp around her torso enravel her as she stumbled back into her apartment and finish making her morning coffee. 

So, May decided her first approach would be in the college courtyard, around the outside corridors, where Jack would be puffing in his afternoon and mid morning cigarette. "You have a light?" She asked, zipping around to Jack's view. Jack thought for a moment before pulling out a lighter from his pocket. Flicking the flame up to her cigarette, May smiled. "Thanks. Not too many gentlemen around here." Jack raised his eyebrows in agreement. Some of the guys did only think about one thing when they saw a pretty girl they liked.

Taking a puff of her cigarette, May smiled wider to Jack. "So you-" The bell rang, signaling classes to begin again. As Jack excused himself, May bit her lip and watched as Jack ran aimlessly though the throngs of students, tossing and stomping out his bud before disappearing inside the building. 

*******************************

It was Saturday night. Jack didn't work weekends. Sitting at the bar with his friends, Andy, Charles and Jude, Jack was downing a martini. Scanning the night scene, the rush of people swinging in and out of the bar with their drinks and booming chatter and boisterous laughter. Reaching for a cigarette, Jack pressed it between his lips. Flicking his lighter back and forth- no fire rooting from it. "Light?" A saultry voice next to him spoke.

Turning and seeing May there, holding her lit lighter out in front of Jack's cigarette. Taking a puff, Jack smiled cautiously. "Thank you." May shrugged. "Just thought I'd return the favor." Jack gave a small arched smile and tried to go back to his drink. But May hovered next to him, letting the spicy blossom perfume swim through Jack's space. Feeling her soft hands touch his arm, she flashed him the same pearly smile she always did. Jack hadn't noticed the sparkle that twinkled inside her eyes. Bright sky blue eyes when settled in the mundane light. Easy and alluring with reason. Pressing her shiny red lips to Jack's cheek, leaving the red residue stain there, Jack felt this tingle through his spine.

May's soft presence eased Jack more than he would've liked. A comforting illumine wrapped around the two of them- becoming the only two people in sight. Jack could soon only see May's face. Her soft gentle face met his in a way he couldn't describe. Letting her lean in closely, Jack let his lips touch hers and soon, even a few drinks couldn't intoxicate Jack the way May did. Leading her to his car, Jack and May drove to Jack's townhouse.

Leading her upstairs, Jack had comepletly missed Emily coming from her apartment with a freshly baked cherry pie- whipped cream dolloped on top perfectly- only to see Jack and May making out against the door jam of Jack's door, before disappearing inside his place. Emily quietly went back inside her apartment, turning off her lights for the evening.

Meanwhile, in Jack's apartment......

May and Jack slammed into every corner of the room, tossing their clothes to the floor: against the chair, over the couch, by the TV, in the hallway. Making it into the room, naked May leaped into Jack's arms- arms clinging to his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, letting his body press into hers tightly. Her soft moans became louder as they trailed into Jack's bedroom. Their bare bodies heaved on top of each other- Jack kissing her neck ferociously as her naked body laid under his, pressing itself against his, until her nails finally scratched his back and hands clung to the sides of her back, letting their breaths fall and gasp into each others with a heavy final howl of breathless words. Jack slid to May's side, looking into her eyes with the fluff of his own. May's smirk played through Jack's mind. A memory he'd never forget- his first time. May would forever be the girl he gave himself to. 

He'd never forget the sweetnes of her eyes and gentleness of her lips. How she clung to him for comfort and pleasure and how she let him take the control. Fanning herself and fixing the messy strainds of hair, May finally locked eyes with Jack. "You were good." She breathed. "So were you....." Jack wanted to tell May of his pride in her being his one, but bit his tongue. Instead, he fell asleep with May tracing his back with her finger and to the sounds of her soft humming breath.

By morning, Jack turned around and his bed and felt nothing. Opening his eyes slowly, May was gone. Grabbing his nylon briefs from the couch, Jack saw that all of May's clothes were gone. The front door was closed and she had comepletly disappeared. Like she had never exsisted. Jack threw on his clothes, and went into the hallway. Emily's door was closed. Jack didn't notice too much, but found it unusal considering how she would always be there to open her door when she heard Jack's door open. Jack spent the Sunday inside the apartment mostly, but eventually went out for dinner. 

Jack wanted to know where May's apartment was. Was she staying in a dorm with roomates? Did she still live with her parents? He needed to know. His mind flickered between the picture show that played inside his mind of May's soft body pressed against his. It swayed through the night, misting through his brain and in his dreams. His heart sped when thinking of May. Her soft hair, her gentle skin, the sureness of her eyes. It all lived inside Jack's head rent free- no strings attached. Jack didn't realize the rosation of his cheeks in his sleep- sizzling deeply in his skin the more he dreamed of her lilac scent pressing deeply into his collar. No number, no address, no way to reach May or understand her. Jack endorsed that he would greet May in the corridors at school Monday. She would be there in floral pink dress, her white little heels and cherry lipstick, lacing her arm around his and walking around the college to showcase themselves to everyone like golden trophies in a glass case. Jack fell asleep, dreaming of May- hoping silently she'll return to him tomorrow.

***************************************

Monday came. Jack arrived up and early- fixing his breakfast, stepping into the shower and dressing in a slick polo with dockers- dabbing on some cologne on his neck, and fixing his collar neatly.

Stepping outside, Jack met eyes with Emily. Giving her a polite smile, she gave a tightend half one before brisking herse;f down the stairs. An arch crossed over Jack's eyebrow, but he shook it off, passing her while exiting the townhouse.

Jack made a point to arrive twenty minutes early to college, hoping to spot May somewhere outside in the courtyard, or by her locker chatting with her friends. Maybe she's thinking of me Jack thought. Maybe she'll be talking about us as her latest hookup. She put in so much effort to follow me, she's gotta be interested.

A familiar chuckle grabbed Jack's attention. It was around the corner of chemistry class on the second floor. The halls were bare and the students were either just getting to the school or probably haven't even awoken from the dorms yet. But, Jack turned the corner. Quietly and vigilant- bracing himself against something unexpected. He always got enough of those when he turned corners and was smacked with a surprise boy and girl coition. But this time, he caught the firery fringes of May's hair. Her slender frame, her diverting laugh- all in light of the corner that Jack peered around. May- making out with some guy- lips locked deeply into his without hesitation. Jack went unnoticed, but was paralyzed to the scene. His legs felt wobbly like jelly, but were somehow still bolted onto the floor. His eyes frozen on the bewitching act play out right in front of him as if he didn't matter.

And he didn't Not to May anyway.

Carefully walking away, Jack's blushing wishful cheeks had become a face filled shade of red. Bright echoing red from anger mixed in utter humilation. Of all the broken pieces that still lived in Jack, the one honest one, the one bold one, the one hopeful and sensitive piece of himself had been wasted. Fully wasted, like money being flushed down the toliet, or fresh beer being poured out onto the pavement of the ground. Jack felt wasted. Used up and broken. Shattered to the ground like crystals. Jack didn't understand how he stayed in class that whole day. Maybe because of the deep determination he had to his goal. His passion to be what he wanted. Never making eye contact with May the entire day- and somehow, she was okay with that. She never looked in Jack's direction anyway. She was already on to someone else. It all singed inside Jack deeper than he wanted it to. 

Shame layed over his body like a blanket, making him want to hide himself- cover himself over like he was naked, walking around the school for everyone to see his nakedness. Once school ended, Jack smoked down three cigarettes and gluped down a whole beer pack. Drunk and sloppy, Jack took himself to bed and decided that his Monday studies would become his Tuesday ones.

Jack woke up and hour before work. Sober, he took another shower, grabbed a quick dinner -a peanut butter and jelly sandwich - before grabbing his keys and rushing out the door. 

"Where's that one girl?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Emily swallowed. "Oh, there was this one woman- she said hi and we talked and... I didn't know if she lived in the apartment or not." Emily regretted what she said. Jack blinked, cheeks becoming flushed again. "Oh, uh... no she doesn't." Jack let his eyebrows furrow. He looked up again, forcing a smile across his face. "Yeah.. she was just visiting." Jack smirked. "Your apartment's always looks so cozy." Emily let a smile spread over her face. "Thanks, I love your apartment too! It's so sensual and artistic..." Emily bit her tongue. She kicked herself for allowing her lips to speak so out of term. Her heart skipping a beat- her face flushed and dampening with her sweat. Jack smiled. "Thanks.... I really apperciate it." Looking at his watch, Jack signaled his need to leave. 

"It was nice talking to you." Emily smiled, letting Jack pass her through the hall. Watching him trail down the stairs, she let herself oogle the way his body- sturdy and broad- gait out the door. A blush pecked through her face. A flash of heat swam through her body while a thick patch of fuzz sizzled through her heart. Emily walked back inside her apartment, melting into her couch as she let the image of Jack flow through her brain once again.

*********************************

The shift was tough. Two fights between drunks guys held things up in the tavern, like they always did, leaving extra work for Jack. Jack was a natural at plastering on a polite smile with polite small talk and a good mood persona to get through the days. 

Serving drinks and earning tips for the night until three in the morning when he needed the extra overtime hour to make up the difference on a surprise electric bill charge. Stumbling back home, Jack plopped down on the couch, wide awake. Counting the timeline of how Sunday evening, all he could think about was May; astethic with fondness and a prancing dote. Now, the last thing he wanted to think about was May. And how she used him. How she betrayed him and shattered his self worth into a million pieces. But... Jack blamed himself too. How dare he walk into such a situation where his logic and reasoning where thrown to the side over and ardent dream of a one night stand passion. How he threw his dignity over edge just feel an eccentric fill of love for a few moments only to be lower than rock bottom when it was all over.

While Jack could hate himself, he also pitied himself. The first genuine gash of love he felt from someone- anyone, willing to be intimate with him and hold onto him for the same needy reason he carried for years. How much he needed someone to be interested in him and show him love and suffocate him in it for such a big price. Jack knew he needed it. He knew it wasn't over. The same reason he allowed his cigarette to be lit by the woman, was at the root of where he was now. Alone and sitting in the dark with only a lightly lit living room lamp, whose bulb needed replacing.

But Jack liked being alone. At least that's what he thought. He did though. But.... he still carried that craving. A constant crave of affection. In a world where if you were in a certain position- mostly of circumstance- then, you wouldn't get it. Sexual vibes were the only piece of affection that you could obtain- as much, whenever, how ever you like it.

But Jack didn't want it. Not always. Sure he loved the feeling of May's body, but he needed something more. He wanted something more which was why he was in college in the first place. But....what if that wasn't enough? What if dreams had to just stay dreams? The flame could never be sparked into a fire, but contained inside- safely so you don't hurt yourself. 

Follow the rules- is what lingered through his head. Don't fan the flames, and you'll be okay. Keep your head down and do what's expected.

Repeated all through his life in subtle, yet blunt ways. His mother's coddling of David. His father's roughness with him. These things played through Jack's brain- unstopping or unhooking itself into this merry-go-round of melancholy.

But Jack pinched himself. Not physically, but mentally. He would never allow this to tinker through his body like they had been right. Like the cages they imprisoned themselves in were for best interest. Jack shook himself awake. Pounding the thoughts of May, Lucy, David, Bernie, the guy May was kissing, Donna, Emily and everyone and everything else out of his brain. Jack sat up, grabbed his books, his notebook and sat down at his kitchen nook with a cup of coffee, a timer and a pencil

Monday's work would stay Monday's work.

**********************************************

New's Years day rang in at midnight. Two years had passed, old neighbors left- Emily got married and moved up to Nebraska with her new husband- a ginger tabby had made himself into Jack's new roomate- spolied with warm milk, forehead rubs and kisses, a fuzzy warm bed and a thick red collar against the fat of his neck- earning himself the name, Simba. The perfect name Jack thought for such a spolied kitten. But Jack adored him. Walking across the window seal of his apartment, Jack nabbed the little kitty before it could fall and made it his duty to care for him from then on. "He's too little to be on his own." He cooed, rubbing his nose against his own.

Jack was also working extra hard- his last year of college was really grinding him as the last final would determine whether he would have to repeat the course over. 

January rang in with frosty breezes and sloshy crisp snow, that crunched when your boots clomped it. The shoveled streets where clear. Mostly people walking on the sidewalks to catch in the morning air of mid winter. Jack could remember the feeling of the cold slapping against his face as he and his friends were lined up at Time's Square to watch the clock strike and the ball drop at midnight after the countdown. A stream of tickling snowflakes fell from the sky on that exact moment, leaving Jack to ponder the miracle. He wished for happiness and a week later, Simba was welcomed into his home.

Winter break was still extant; Jack and his friends decided a day out at the pub in Albany- after sight seeing and exotic food tasting- they settled down in the heart of the early evening for a dinner in one of the pubs. Jack explained his lastest class- Mr. Barret made the class do a math exercise with a tennis ball. It was fun, but rather difficult to keep up. As Charles was explaining a funny story- how some girl led him to her home for sex, while her parents were still at the house. "They flipped out when they saw me come through the door!" The boys let out a haughty chuckle. 

A man entered the pub. He met eyes with Jack for a quick second before turning back to a table at the bar. Furrowing his eyebrows, the man turned back to Jack- laughing and talking with his friends- scoffing down the hefty club sandwiches and beer with them, all smiles and cheers. The man was Wayne Hedel. David's friend from high school, who worked only a few corners away from the presinct, at the construction ground. Eyeing Jack, carefully- making sure he caught the familiar face correctly. The same chocolate slicked back hair with the tuff asloped over to the side over his face, curtaining his eye. The same alluring vivid green eyes that could bore holes into you or snatch you into a net of reassuring sympathy when you need it.

Wayne kept focus on the beer he held in front of him. But his mind wandered to one thing: May. His niece- in the same college Jack was in, had accidentally disclosed how she let one guy take her back to his place and showed him a good time after signaling him in class and offering him a lit for his cigarette after he did for her in the college courtyard. Laughing, she exclaimed how Bruce was a better lover, but Jack gave her the satisfaction.

Wayne hadn't told David; conflicted with whether he should- his temper flaring upon the realization of his son hooking up with a 'broad' like the cocotte boy he was. Wayne let the indesicion eat at him for the night. He slept in his misery, not knowing what he could say to David. Seeing him everyday, making small talk while drinking beers against the pillar of an old factory, just didn't seem right as long as he held in this news. He liked Jack. He knew how hard he had it at home and couldn't bare to see any more pain come to him. But David would find out. He knew he would eventually- and hurt him. David would hurt Jack if he found out himself. Maybe Wayne could head him off- telling Jack, David knew. Telling David to calm down and reason it out. They would reason it out together. Somehow, it made it okay. If Wayne headed him off, David might be rational for once. David might make amends with Jack and explain how everyone makes mistakes and how much he loved him. That this would be something between him and Jack- Lucy wouldn't know. She didn't have to.

Wayne slept better the rest of the night. He would tell David. He would tell him the truth and they could make up- like true father and son. 

Shuttling his position in bed, Wayne turned over toward the window, letting the moon hit his face. Letting the tranquil trill of the night soothe him.

*******************************************

"OPEN THE DOOR, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" 

Jack was huddled on his couch, cradling Simba in his arms as the hurls and pounding threat of his door being kicked down ran through him like a jagged opening in the stomach. Carefully stepping onto the floor, Jack locked Simba inside the bathroom and tip toed to the door. "JACK I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" Jack grabbed the phone a dialed for the police of a disturbance. A sour flush bled over his face; neighbors inside their complexes thinking the worst of him upon hearing the loud pounding of his door. Only his door and no one elses. It made rage crawl through Jack like ants over a picnic. 

Slamming the phone against the base, Jack carefully made his way back to the couch and just waited. Left fate in the hands of the universe- hoping they would send the police as soon as possible. Hopefully, catching David in the act and not letting his badge of a detective meddle in their protocol to their job.

Sets of footsteps traced the stairs of the apartment, hearing them shuffle to Jack's door, where David had parked himself there. A knock on the door sounded. A regular knock- not a pounding beat that echoed through the door frame. "Hello? Someone called?" Jack ran to the door, opening it with his body skirting a little through the sliver where the chain lock would allow. "Yes! I called because of this man- my father- he's pounding on my door- harassing me and is acting very aggressive." David, yanked his wallet out from his back pocket and pulled out his police I.D. Jack somehow knew this, and unlocked his door, allowing himself to stand in the face of the officers and David.

The police scanned the I.D. and then turned to Jack. "I want him removed from my residence." Stiff and stern, Jack didn't even look into the eyes of David. The sudden door burst open of Emily's place. The police officers turned to her. "Did you happen to see anything?" Emily looked at Jack, then at David, then at the officers. "I didn't see anything, but I heard someone screaming my neighbors name while pounding hard against his door." Another door swung open. Mr. Richardson's. "I was in my home when this man," pointing to David, "came to this young's man's door and was causing a bunch of disturbance." 

Soon, almost everyone's doors opened and saw the chaos happening. "Alright sir," one of the officers grabbed David's arm. "You're under arrest for the trespassing and violent disturbance of the building." Taking David away quickly while he yelled profanites, Jack looked to everyone- smiling and letting his vision blur- with graciousness. "Thank you all so much! You have no idea what that means to me." 

Mr. Richardson smiled. "Aw, don't worry about it sonny, you're a good neighbor and we appericate you." Jack kept the smile over his face as he disappeared back inside his apartment with everyone else. Jack could be thankful for the support. But he could know that what happened would never be forgotten. Jack grabbed Simba from the bathroom and rocked him in his arms gently. Not so much to soothe the crying cat, but to stifle the looming tears of Jack. 

Anger bubbled over his fear. His shame, his public embarrassment of his father storming up to his townhouse and making a scene. And for what? For nothing. Jack couldn't possibly understand why David would decide all of a sudden to make a scene. How did he even know where his apartment was? How did he even know he lived in the Brooklyn Cladar apartments? How did he even know he lived in Brooklyn? All these questions with no answers swirled around Jack's mind like a ring-around-the-rosie type of circle.

Why? Why did David have to do this? What did Jack do to make it happen? These questions needed to be answered. They needed solance. And Jack decided he would find it.

***********************************************

"Jack... it's mom. I want you to come home okay?" She wimpered. "Your father's in jail..... I don't know what happened- but he needs to be bailed out.... oh Jack, if you could just spare something-"

"Mom.... it's Jack. Dad's in jail, because I called the police on him for disturbing the peace at my apartment." A pause stood over the line. "What?" 

"Dad, marched up to my townhouse-" "Jack I don't understand-"

"Mom! Listen, I called the cops on Dad because he lost his mind!" Jack broke. "He stormed up to my apartment and caused a big scene- enough for the neighbors to have to come out and explain what happened! Do you know why he did it?!" 

"No. I didn't know that happened. You called the police?" "Yes! I had no choice!" 

"But Jack... he's your father."

"Yeah... yes he is." 

"Your poor father.... rotting in that cell. Oh Jack... please!"

"No."

"Jack!"

"Mom! Dad needs to be there! After everything he caused, he deserves more!" "Don't you dare speak like that about him! He loves you- he provided for you- you show him some respect!"

"He loves me...... you know-"

"I don't wanna hear it Jack!"

"I don't care! He's abusive Mom! He abused you! He abused me! He still fucking does! You can say someone loves you- you can say you love someone.... that doesn't make it true. It doesn't mean anything as long as you can't show it. Tough love doesn't exsist with Dad. He's mean, cold, violent.....he's not a nice person. He's not a good father.... and he's not a good husband. He's not a good man, Mom. But... you have to believe that- you have to see something better for yourself in order to see the ugly in him. But you don't.... you defend him like it doesn't exsist and it does! It's all around you, but you refuse to let yourself see it! So.. no. No bail money. No 'I'm sorrys'. Nothing..... get out while you can. If you can value that... then leave him now. That's all I can do. I love you.... but I can't do this. I have to go.... bye."

Lucy let the humming sound of the dead line beep through her. Tears tricked down her cheeks. Her heart felt hollow and heavy. Her breath, steady and rhythm like- as to keep her breath going for consciousness. Setting the phone down onto the base, Lucy soaked in the silence of her home. A wail rose from her throat, releasing itself into the bitter thick marsh of tension she accumulated inside her body. Strolling up to Jack's room, she finally let the door open. 

Nothing. Just like Jack said. Nothing was there. Not his bed, or his desk or his curtains that bellowed in the spring breeze, nor the little chifforobe dresser he had over towards the corner of his room. Empty. Everything snatched and ripped away from his room- starved of Jack's presense of every corner, every little speak or dust that settled- nothing was Jack's. Jack was wiped clean from the home. Not by any influance, but his own. He hated the house, he hated the family he was given.... he hated his life here. And for the first time, something unsettled itself inside Lucy. Something had made the frothing understanding of who Jack was to her, settle in its place.

The deeply webbed interior of Jack that she held in her mind, suddenly started to fade. Those eyes that would search every stranger for, every young man she met, would never be Jack's eyes. Only a representive of what they were and how she saw them. The same net that she thought she had found in David was just a lie. Jack's eyes carried that safety. Because he was safe. He truly held the idea of the unknown- the unattained. Jack- kicked the dust off his jeans, stiched the holes in the soles of his shoes and walked away. He made something better. Jack didn't let David bury him.

Jack.... gave himself what he needed and carried himself that way. And for that... he was stronger than Lucy. He was stronger than David.

Stronger... then what she could have ever been. And for some reason- all those years of tug-of-war between father and son, had incidently carried another standing in mother and son. For all that time until today, it never settled deeply into Lucy as much as did now. Being alone in an empty room held this other presence. She failed. She knew she did...

But not so much to Jack. Not so much to David, or Diane, or her mother or her family or anyone else.

But to her. For the first time.... Lucy would have to finally feel the blades of the lumpy mattress of her bed that she made up.

And lay there. All alone. 

"Jack...." was all she could whisper. "Jack...... Jack..... Jack...." But he was long gone. She would never be there with him. 

And somehow.... in some way...... that's what he wanted her to feel. To understand... to feel. Deep inside herself.

Lucy would always be the woman she envisioned herself to be, not the one she could've dreamed to become. She let it die out. And for that.... she lost Jack. She knew she did. She knew he would never come back... she knew.... the little boy she could only comfort in time of distress was gone. All that was left was the hollow memory of what never was. And she had to live in it.

She had to learn to live without those pieces of her desires. She lived without herself for so long... 

Lucy couldn't even fanthom where to begin now. And that.... is why she laid down on the hard wooden floor of the Jack's old bedroom and cried. 

Alone. All alone. And crying. With nothing. Nothing to show for who she was.... or who she allowed herself to become.

**************************************

"I'm so sorry, Jack. I had no idea David would react like that." Wayne said. Jack bit his lip. Looking down towards the floor, he jolted himself back into Wayne's eyes. "I truly am." Thinking for a moment, Jack realized Wayne was a good man. He was an honest man, and Jack could respect that. 

Sticking his hand out, Wayne shook it. "It's alright." Jack was simple in what was said.

Not mentioning how Jack decided that last month, an apartment in the heart of Manhatten seemed more fitting. More easily able to disappear into the gush of New yorkers, where nobody knew your business- and no one cared about it either. Jack would never tell how he gave Mr. Richardson a lemon meringue pie- his favorite- as a thank you. Or how, he surprised Emily with fresh baked brownies from his oven and a gentle peck on her cheek for graditude. "Oh, thank you Jack.... these are lovely!" Emily couldn't contain the blush color her cheeks became the minute Jack even appeared at her front door. Her smile so big, even her teeth stretched themselves wider.

Packing Simba away in a box, Jack took him and their furniture to their new Manhatten place where the living was twice the size of his old place and he was given two bedrooms- one for him, one as his office- a bathroom and a terrace. Simba was negoiated extra ten dollars, but Jack didn't mind. The tavern he worked at caught fire after some drunk threw a flamming vodka bottle through the window one night.

So, Jack took the job as a stage prop manager with a theater. The most intellectual plays took place there and being centerfield of the Manhatten arts, Jack snagged the job faster than they could ask. He worked nights- where most of the shows took place anyway.

As Jack settled into his last year of college, he held his breath. Cramming in study after study- he hoped it would be enough for what he learned over those three years. He just hoped as finals just around the corner.

***********************************

A perfect score. Jack passed the finals with one of the highest scores in the class. Graduating with honors, Jack couldn't contain his smile as he crossed the stage reaching for his diploma. Glancing out towards the auidence, Jack swore he spotted a face. A familiar face in the crowd of his mother's frame and his father's scowl. 

Squinting- with the little time he had- he scanned the crowd very carefully. But nothing. His parents probably didn't even know he was enrolled in the first place. His friends were there; Charles and Andy were clapping over to the sidelines, watching their friend receive his honors with pride.

Pride. A feeling that Jack couldn't shake, even if he was the only one. Even if he had to do this by himself...... and that made it more special. Jack proved something to himself. To everyone that stood along his path- he did it. Jack had dreams, he had ambitions, he had.... strength. 

Jack stood among the crowd, taking one last look into the crowd of claps and cheers before walking off the stage. Seperating himself through the throngs of people, Jack stood highly. He gave himself a pat on the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek, a sweet word of endearment. Jack loved himself enough to say: "I did it!"

And.....he did. Letting in the bright aroma of his future set in, staring his dreams bluntly in the face, Jack had set himself free. Free of pain, of doubts, of hopeless prisons, of heartbreak. 

Jack held his diploma tightly. Getting into his car, and driving off into the city, Jack couldn't shake the smile from his face. He couldn't spit out the lingering taste of freedom from his lungs. 

Jack- like he promised- burned it down and builded it up again. Killing off himself, then resurrecting his new self back. Jack carried his passion. He ran with it, and would keep running until he never had to run again. He wouldn't have to find it in the face of a stranger. He wouldn't have to go far. Jack wouldn't have to find it in the night or hope for it in the light.

Jack could look inside himself. And it would live there. It would be there.

Just like it always was. And always would be.

[fkinavocado]

Don't Worry Darling (SPIN-OFF)

a very indulgent exploration of what could've, should've been...

Warning: 18+, smut, dark themes of oppression, patriarchal bullshit and toxic manipulation, abuse and control. having watched the movie is a must i'm afraid. in no shape or form am i trying to "outsmart" the movie, this is just a spin-off!

Status: ongoing, miniseries

Masterlist

Part One

[multifandomworldsposts]

Day 6 of Kinktober: Having an Affair with Jack Chambers

pairing: jack chambers x fem!reader

warning: eating out, riding, protected sex.

Y/N’s POV

I moved into Victory a year ago and I’ve been having an affair with Jack Chambers. We go somewhere private secretly so no one can’t see us.

One night, his wife Alice, went out for a girls night but I didn’t want to go so I lied about me being sick, meaning, fucking around with Jack. When the coast was clear, I went to the house and Jack immediately let me in the house.

“I’ve waited so long for this Y/N/N.” Jack says pulling me into him.

“What’re waiting for Jack, I’m here, take me somewhere that you make me beg for you.” I say making his face be close to mine.

Jack takes me to a counter and makes my dress go up so he can see my new lingerie I bought. The way his smirk grows, I’m so ready for him to fuck me up. He makes me take off some of the lingerie off and eats me out while I’m still sitting on the counter, I tug on his hair and gasp while I lean my head back. I position my right heel on his left shoulder blade which made him hold my right leg in place so I couldn’t move it at all.

“Fuck!” I scream.

He’s so good at this it makes me think that my husband is lousy in bed.

Jack stops eating me out and I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, he takes me to his bedroom, He lays me down and takes his clothes off which made me want him even more. When he got fully naked, I made him get down to my level and he wraps his arms around my body and takes me to the end of the bed. He gets a condom from his nightstand and put it on his cock. He fucks me, I scratch his back each time he went harder into me. I take control a bit, I flip us over to make me on top of him.

I feel my strap falling off, Jack unzips my lingerie and I take it off. I can tell he wants me, I position myself to ride him. I took him so well, Jack leans up to face me and we kiss, I moan into the kiss.

“Ja- Fuck.” I moan while he gives me love bites on my neck.

“You’re so much better than my wife.” He moans continues giving me love bites.

“Why you say that?” I stop him giving me bites.

“She’s been acting crazy lately, I think you already know.” He looks at me.

“Yeah, she has been crazy, that dinner the other night, her crazy idea about Victory and you looking at her when Frank talked about her at his house.” I said.

“I know that she would lie, you don’t lie at all.” Jack touches my cheek.

“I mean the food was good.” I chuckle.

“I think your food is better.” He says.

“Jack!” I chuckle.

“It’s the truth.” He makes us do nose to nose.

We continue kissing and fucking each other, Alice catches us.

“Jack!?” Alice in a scared way.

Jack and I look at Alice, I get embarrassed, I hide my naked body and I look at Jack who has a kinda of an embarrassed face.

“How long has this been going on?” Alice questions.

“A several months.” Jack says.

Alice’s face looks mortified and she walks out of the room.

Ever since that day I’ve been at home not going to any parties or clubs with Jack and he’s friends. I’m so embarrassed, I wish that I never came here or met Jack. Thank god we stayed protected. I hate myself. Fuck Victory!

[freedomfireflies]

Jack Shit

Summary: In which Jack Chambers is not a selfish, egotistical man-child with raging control issues that apparently wants to climb into Alice's womb like she's his mommy, but instead just a regular guy with a different set of control issues.

There is absolutely nothing better than the taste of him.

You’ve never felt so depraved. So irrevocably addicted to someone. Every fucking inch of the glorious man sitting just across from you.

His smile. His hair. His fucking arms, and hands, and fingers.

His fucking thighs.

You could just drool. You’ve never felt so pathetically needy in your life. He’s laughing at a joke one of his friends made, running his palm down his chin and your eyes fall to the facial hair that you absolutely adore.

Your thoughts are sinful. Looking at him like he’s sex on a stick. Truthfully, you’re almost embarrassed to be remembering him in such a way, and maybe chemically something is off in your body, but you don’t even care.

Because look at him.

You imagine everyone in the room can feel the tension. The way you’re attempting not to squirm in your seat as you look on. As you watch him settle into his chair as his legs spread comfortably.

Fuck, you could just moan. You have to pull your lip between your teeth and turn your head just to find a moment of reprieve.

And after what feels like hours of pure, unadulterated torture, he seems to notice, head cocking to the side before he nods his chin at you wordlessly. 

You say nothing. Shake your head. Chew on the inside of your cheek.

His eyes narrow thoughtfully before his long finger lifts into the air and beckons you forward. 

You feel your stomach drop, so cock-whipped by this man that you’re standing to your feet before you can think better of it.

The rest of the group continues their chatter as you make your way toward where he resides. And before you have a chance to sit beside him, he’s sneaking an arm around your hip to tug you onto his lap.

Shit.

Both a blessing and a curse and your legs pull shut within an instant as his head dips to find your ear.

“What’s going on with you, hm?” he murmurs, soft and silky, which certainly doesn’t help. “What’s the matter?”

His hand finds your leg. Innocent enough, mostly in an attempt to grab your attention.

But you’re too far gone, breath hitching at the feel of his skin against yours and he takes note of this immediately.

“What?” he repeats, a tremor of concern in his voice as he glances over the flutter of your lashes. “What’s the matter, angel?”

You could kill him, you really could. Your throat clears gently as you shake your head, now slightly mortified by the thoughts running wild inside your head. 

“Nothing. M’fine.” You won’t meet his eye. Can’t. If you do, you’re done for.

“Liar.” His tone is playful, yet the way he hisses the simple word sends chills right down to your cunt. “I know you better than you think I do. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” you repeat, hoping to sound at least a little convincing. “I just…I’m ready to go home.”

“Oh?” His brow quirks upward. “Why, you all right?”

The gentle lilt of trepidation has you reeling, your heart hammering in your chest as you fight the urge to just climb on top of him.

Your knee begins to bounce, lip back between your teeth as you tug. Commanding yourself to remain indifferent. Relaxed. “Yeah, I just…I’m just—”

Suddenly, a look of realization passes over his face. And pure, unadulterated glee. He leans closer, nose brushing your cheek as he whispers, “Angel, are you dripping?”

You feel your head spin, your skin growing hot and your tongue going numb.

You don’t have to answer for him to know it’s true.

His fingers rub delicate circles into the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, subtle enough to slip beneath the observation of everyone else in the room but determined enough that you can’t focus on anything else.

You exhale a deep breath, hand landing over his as you squeeze his knuckles. “Shit, don’t…don’t—”

“Don’t what, hm?” He brings his hand higher and you still at the sensation. “Think it’d be really unfair of me to leave you like this, don’t you?”

You imagine it would be unfair, but you’re so deep in your lust for this man, you don’t imagine you’ll survive if he attempts to do something about it.

When you meet his question with silence, his grip becomes tighter. Unrelenting. “Angel,” he warns, subtly yet forcefully tugging you further along his thigh. “Don’t test my patience.”

And you aren’t trying to test him. God, you can’t even fathom the thought, and yet your own body betrays you as your voice disappears into thin air the moment he asks a question.

And because Jack Chambers is an evil, sadistic, and relentless man…he answers the question for you.

Despite the room full of people, he slips his hand up your leg until it disappears beneath the soft hem of your dress.

Nobody notices. Maybe you want them to, maybe you don’t. But you notice. Feel the way those long fingers graze your inner thigh as they travel up. Up and up and up until they find the silk of your underwear. 

You also notice his breath hitch. Rather pleased at his obvious enjoyment of what he’s finding. The way, despite his power, he’s still overcome at the thought of you.

You watch his lips mumble something. You don’t catch what, exactly, but that hardly matters because he’s finally touching you. Thumb down the front of the fabric as he applies the subtlest amount of pressure. Just enough to make you squirm. Enough to have you sucking in a sharp gasp as you turn to hide your face in his neck.

“Shh,” he warns, cadence soothing and gentle. Soft and reassuring. It’s odd, the way he can seem both animalistic and tender all at once. You imagine that’s what you adore most about him. How he makes you feel both safe and terrified. “I’ve got you, yeah?”

He does, he’s got you, and you nod. You’ve never needed him to get you so badly.

A bit more pressure this time around. Up and down. Pressing. Circling. Kneading. Until you physically feel a blood vessel about to pop from how hard you’re trying not to whine. Until your stomach is cramping from the pain of holding the pleasure at bay. The way your thighs burn from attempting to squeeze them shut around his hand.

And the voices around you. Everyone laughing and talking and drinking and singing along to the music. Nobody pays you two any mind. If someone were to look over, they’d simply think you were whispering a secret in his ear. 

And you are. Repeatedly. “Please, please, please.” Desperate and fraught. Needing him to take you home, or to the car, or even to the fucking hallway if that means he’ll give you what you want.

He’s so close to going a bit further. You wish he would. Need him to. Need him to actually touch you. Skin on skin. No more of this over-the-panties bullshit. 

And he knows it. Knows what you need and is refusing to give it to you and you’re not sure why but you could kill him, you really could.

But that might have to wait until tomorrow because right now, with the thought of getting caught so close, and his hand much closer…you realize, you’re done for. Because skin on skin or not, you’re about to tip over the edge. His practiced and determined touch bringing you right to the cliff as he holds you there. Dangles you by one fucking finger.

And you can feel it. Bubbling. Ready to tip over at a moment's notice and it’s almost there, just a couple more seconds, and you’ll have to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming, and it’s so good and so close, and just one more second—

He stops.

Pulls his hand back.

Leaves you there. On the cliff. Dangling. Falling. Disappearing into the black abyss.

“Ja…Jack,” you just barely manage to whisper as he smooths the hem of your dress along your thighs, as if putting you back together. “What…what—”

“You never answered my question,” he tells you calmly, green eyes finally looking up to meet yours. “My angel knows better than that.”

You exhale a tense sigh. “Jack—”

“Off,” he demands, patting your hip to signal he wants you to stand to your feet.

But you hardly can, legs wobbly and chest caving in on itself. “Jack, I—”

“Off,” he repeats, a bit sterner, and immediately, you’re up. “Good. Go sit down and wait for me to take you home.”

“Jack—”

“Don’t push it, darling.” His tone hardens, lids narrowing as you feel the urge to cry bubbling its way up your throat. “Next time, you’ll tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll be good to you.”

“No, Jack, I promise…I was listening, I just—”

“S’too late now, Angel,” he hums, that familiar smirk attempting to sneak its way into his expression as he pulls his brows together and throws his arm over the back of his seat. His chin nods toward you as you settle on the couch. “Good girl. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to go.”

You suck in a deep breath. Hold it. Nails digging into your thighs. “Jack…please—”

“Uh uh,” he warns, head shaking once. “You can wait.”

“Jack—”

“You can wait.” He regards you carefully, and you can see the sadistic pleasure settle behind his eyes. “That’s it. Just like that. Sit there and behave for me.”

And you do. For the rest of the long, tumultuous evening. You sit there. You wait. You don’t make a sound.

But you do plan your revenge.

And as you watch him laugh with his friends and throw you a knowing wink, you smile through gritted teeth.

He’s so fucking in for it now.

And you’re gonna make it hurt.

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

[lovecanyon]

OMG WHAT ABOUT WHEN AICE ASKS ABOUT JACK BEING HOME AND HER BEING “ASLEEP” AND THE READER IS THERE

Bruised Neck and Swollen Lips

jack chambers x frank’s wife

MASTERLIST | PATREON

-

“I was here when you got here?” Alice questions her husband as she walks into the kitchen.

“Yeah you were asleep in the bedroom.” Jack nods his head and almost immediately Alice notices the woman behind him. Y/N was here.

The blonde takes a deep breath in, trying to remember what happened before she woke up in her bedroom. Her brain was still scattered with visions she had of the town especially of her swimming at the Victory town pool.

“You have a good nap Alice?” Y/N smiles turning around wearing the same apron as Jack. She had a glass bowl in her hands, most likely helping him cook.

But what caught most of Alice’s attention was the big purple mark on Y/N’s neck. The bruised skin seemed fresh. It also didn’t help that Jack’s lips were swollen and red, like he’s been kissing someone for hours—which in reality he was doing.

Alice wishes she never moved to Victory.

“Y/N?”

Her husband’s mistress looks up with a small smile.

“You have something on your neck.” Alice points out making Jack swiftly drop a glass bowl. The loud shattering sound made Alice jump but Y/N stayed still.

Turning her head, Y/N faces Jack and tells him to clean up the broken glass bowl. Alice almost assumes Jack is going to say no until he nodded at Y/N and bent down onto his knees. She was sort of shocked. Out of all the times she asked her husband to clean he’s always started an argument with her.

Yet when Y/N asked him to pick up the glass bowl from the floor, he nodded and Alice was pretty sure she saw a grin on his face.

“Yeah well you know how men can be.” Y/N smirks glancing down at Jack on his knees.

-

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @academiaghosts @japanchrry @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @hrryscherrys @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @newyorker14 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @eunoiamaa @kaitieskidmore1 @gublerscherry @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @iluvjj @evansglrl @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry

[gottagetbetter14]

This is paradise II

Summary: Where the hell was she? And who the hell is her "husband"?

Jack Chambers x Reader

Warnings: Jack is very manipulative and toxic. Arguing and semi angst.

Masterlist

Part 1

-

Broken glass was now being collected into a dustpan. Her grip on the yellow broom never faltered.The man had left for work leaving her behind to take care of her “mistake.” She was still shaking like a leaf from his outburst. Terrified he would come back and lose his temper again.

-

“I have much disdain for back talkers.” He says getting up from his seat and taking the glass she had earlier filled with orange juice into his hand. Taking a long sip he stares into her eyes before speaking again. “This will be the last time I am disrespected like that again, do you understand?” She nods her head fast. He slams his hands on the table causing a glass to fall and shatter below her feet. “I’d like you to use your words and address me correctly.” He demanded with a new dark look in his eyes. She’s taken aback at the command. “Yes I understand.” He walks to her seat taking her chin between his pointer finger and thumb. “I understand what?” He smirked watching her mouth open and close, deciding how to answer back correctly. “I understand sir.” She utters quickly not liking the taste of the words on the tip of her tongue. He gives her a grin, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip like he did in bed. He moves his hand to her cheek giving it a tap. “Good, clean this up.” She sits there with the order flying past her ears as she watches him leave her alone once again.

-

She doesn’t have the stomach to eat the breakfast left on her plate. She gets up finally leaving the dinning room to dump the rest of the food into the bin. Not having the energy to continue cleaning she puts the dishes in the sink and leaves to find the bathroom.

-

Standing in front of the mirror is a woman she doesn’t recognize. The figure in the reflection has voluminous hair, clean skin, and a different glow to her face that she isn’t used to. She looks healthy. Not a hair out of place and no eye bags in sight. This is not what she ever pictured herself looking like before, so why does she look like this now?

She breaks herself out of the trance and steps away from the counter like it burned her well manicured hands. She turns to leave back to the bedroom making sure to not look back at the reflection again.

-

The bed was unmade, clearly the man avoided it, leaving her to clean up after him once again. The brown flowered comforter lay at the end of the bed, while the white linen sheets are on top. While looking upon the room she had mysteriously woken up in this morning she sees something sparkle in the light on the left side table.

Going closer she can see a ring and picking it up shows the gorgeous fat diamond that sits on a delicate gold band. She’s never seen anything this beautiful in her life, she's honestly quite scared of it. Knowing this might be the ring that has tied her to the man forever. The cold feeling of the band leaves a lasting need to put it on and of course it fits perfectly.

Scaring her out of the ring inspection taking up her time was a knock at her door. Placing the ring down quickly she rushes to the blue front door. Hesitant to place her hand upon the golden she hears a woman’s voice speak up.

“Y/n honey, it’s Bunny! Jack mentioned you might want some company!”

So that’s the man’s name.

-

This is also not my favorite but I swear it gets better!