#Jack chambers fanfiction

[gumballavocadoharry]

I won't cry for yesterday (Pt. 2); Jack Chambers:

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

January trees tickled the tips of the bedroom window. It was a week past what would've been David's birthday and Jack could swore he felt a shiver crawl up his spine. David was haunting him in some way. Jack could feel that somewhere in his bones, he carried the weight of the flagrantly embedded pain David injected into him. And he carried that pain for a while… something Jack had just begun to start admitting to himself.

At night, his pillowcase was damp. When his dreams took him into a whirlwind of his own, night sweats would always plague him. David's face- his piercing frown, his jarring words- the way they slashed through his gut like blades of a knife. His tongue filled with venom from the nips of it and it would pierce through Jack. It would pinch inside of his heart with every little pin and poke. Jack squirmed- falling deeper and deeper into this pitfall of David, Lucy, Roger, Alice… it all swirled around him like this stocky tornado that seemed to suffocate him in its musky waves.

"Jack… Jack," He shot up, scanning around the room panting heavy like he ran a marathon through the rain. Then he saw Alice's face- concerned and full of worry knitted in between her brows.

"Alice… Alice.." Jack grabbed her hand and let the back of it soothe his cheek, pressing the weight of his face against it. "It's okay, honey….. It's okay…" Alice soothed. Jack felt himself falling back into reality. The scent of the room tickled inside his nose again, the little glow of early morning at three AM seemed to remind him that today was a new day in waiting, and the cozy feeling of the covers warmed his body once more- sheltering him from feeble grip he thought he had. Jack breathed patiently again, laying back down against the safety of his pillow and sheets. He stared back up at the ceiling, blinking his eyes quickly like he would miss something.

And slowly, he drifted into his bed and darkness overtook him.

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

It was a few days later when Jack found that David's body was shipped to Virginia- his father's hometown. Although Jack had decided this for a while- he would go to Virginia to make amends- he slowly dragged his feet. It wasn't the typical indolence, rather some arrest; afraid to find out something that maybe he should have never known. But Jack nudged himself- pushed himself to pack up his suitcase. A big suitcase of everything he could ever need for a few weeks, rested inside the travel box.

Jack stared at the suitcase. The last time the same emotions that swam inside of him when he stared at a single suitcase was when Roger had moved out of the house. Now Jack was standing watching the same uneasy, disconnected wave build up inside him like he was sinking inside of a hole that his feet somehow hung over.

He shook his head trying to regain his control over reality and then firmly gripped the suitcase, yanking it off the bed. Carefully tip toeing down the hall and down each step with a steady grace, Jack's eyes finally met Alice's. She was sitting on the couch, fiddling with her thumbs, scruntinizing the silver pink nail polish complimented with golden rings around her fingers. She wanted Jack to see her... she just didn't want to see Jack. Alice knew where he was going even before he said it. She knew... and Jack could sense it.

"I'm going to Virgina, Alice," He came closer to her, "I'll see you in two weeks.... I love you." Jack pressed a soothing and soundly kiss to Alice's cheek, making her blush against her will. "I love you too, Jack.... I'll see you later." Her voice, quiet and discreet. Jack smoothed a stray hair from her face, before standing back up and walking out the door, letting the linger of his scent spray all over the living room.

Alice bit her lip; a tear desperately wanting to blink down her face and plop over her lap. And she finally set it free with a shaky deep breath. Alice stood up, hands trembling, mouth- goofy and stuttering. Her eyes were twin pools of morning dew, glistening with the weight of a thousand unspoken sorrows, reflecting the world with a fragile shimmer that hinted at the heartache within. Alice drifted herself towards the window, watching Jack's taxi pull out of the street and onto the main road. She watched the taxi drive down the road until it disappeared from view. Alice felt this tightning sense; a fence of joy from Jack being gone and sorrow for what he left behind.

Alice decided to busy herself with making a soothing cup of warm tea. Once it was finished, she took it back into the living room.

Alice sat down in the safe cozy warmth of the couch. Grabbing the cup of tea, she sipped it gingerly, careful not to slurp. Her mind quickly flickered to Roger. In a relaxed state, the nerve shook her a bit. It scared her even- remembering the last conversation Roger shared with Jack, before he no longer called the home. A heavy pound sat in Alice's throat everytime she thought about it. But underneath that pound was something even more bitter: her rage. Her deep resentment of Roger's cutting the ties, thanks to Jack. To her, it was his fault. If he could have just let Roger grow; swaddling him in this overprotective quilt, made Roger leap from those binds and run away screaming bloody murder.

She warned him, "Let him be." She would say. But Jack couldn't. He never did. So... she was punished too. She lost her son, just as much as Jack did. If he even deserved to have one in these days, Alice would think. 

It was painful- too painful to think of all her hard work; those years where she held her promise of never being too overprotective or too controlling. Biting her tongue with her children's rebellious phases, knowing they would crawl out of it eventually. Alice knew she would just be patient and understanding. They needed it- they deserved it.

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

Alice remembered Jennifer Lowe. A sweet girl with orange pigtails and icy gray eyes with a light pink smile. Alice adored Jennifer. She was one of the kindest girls she'd met, and from one look you would never know how much pain sat behind those sunny side eyes.

Jennifer was born a few months early- a premature baby. Pink salmon skin, purple nerves and still developing lungs. All this because Jennifer's mother didn't see the harm in having a few cigarettes towards the end of her pregnancy. "A nasy habit." Jennifer called it. Fortunately, she was soon able to come home the day after her original due date. Her life was like any other baby until age two, when her parents tried to have another. Her mother became pregnant in the spring, but had begun bleeding only a few weeks into the pregnancy. A miscarriage. The devestation hit hard with her parents, so they tried for another. But the same thing happened. And it kept happening all the way into late summer. 

Mrs. Lowe's smoking habits caught up with her- unable to bear anymore children, a hole was left inside her. Jennifer was the only child they would be able to have. Seeing her as their little diamond in the rough, the only creation of the Lowe's that would live on, they wanted to protect it. Petrified of losing another baby, the Lowe's hovered over Jennifer's every move. Lasting into her teens, the parents could't let themselves let go of their child.

Jennifer was never allowed sleepovers, parties, curfew was two hours before anyone else's, the Lowe parents always had to be on every one of Jennifer's field trips, she was never to date any boy she set her eyes on, any activites too dangerous were out of the question for her. Jennifer spent most of her adolecents, sneaking out to join Alice just for everyday innocent fun. Jennifer wasn't even that interested in boys, she just wanted to spend time with her friends. But, the Lowe's nearly drilled Alice's parents over if their daughter would be safe in their home, which after a while- despite their understanding- became just as much of irritant to them as much to Jennifer. 

Alice couldn't believe it when Jennifer couldn't ice skate one winter on her vacation because the ice was 'too slippery.' Or she couldn't stay out in the sun because it too many degrees over the safe zone. 

Alice felt for her friend. Jennifer was a happy girl, laughing, joking, smiling.... but sad. Depressed and isolated because of her parents crackpot fears over her safety. A ridiculous paranoia over the unexplained or unexpected, and for nothing. 

But it was the summer, the day after their high school graduation, when Jennifer had gone. Disappeared forever. Alice was told a week before when she asked Jennifer what she was going to do after graduation, Jennifer said only word: Canada. Alice laughed. She didn't believe Jennifer would actually travel all the way to Canada. "Niagra Falls?" She joked. Jennifer kept the bright smile pressed on her face. By the next morning after their graduation ceromony, Jennifer had left. Her fraightful parents demanded answers to Alice's parents, but none could be answered. 

Alice finally understood Canada was where Jennifer was probably headed. "Alice, if you know where Jennifer is.... please tell us." Her parents begged. Alice thought for a moment. Deep down, Alice knew that Jennifer was set on what she told her. After the years of constant stifle and the burden of carrying the weight of her parent's derisive fears, Alice was somewhat relieved to see her friend finally leave. It would just get worse- Jennifer would be constantly hooked on the puppet strings of her parents, never being truly free for the sake of her life. Taking a good look into the eyes of her parents and in the Lowe's, Alice spoke. "No. She never said anything when I last talked to her." And that was all Alice said. Maybe she knew that her parents did know that she knew where Jennifer was. But like her, they could even feel the sweet relief for Jennifer.

Later that week, it was Friday night when Alice finally cried in her bed. She thought of Jennifer. Hoping she finally found her happiness somewhere in the city. With bisections of sadness on one end and happiness on the other, Alice finally let her heart break and heal together for Jennifer. She could say her parents deserved to spend their days wondering and wishing for their lost daughter to come home. The Jennifer, Alice had once knew in Florida, was long gone. But the Jennifer that found herself in Canada, would live on forever. 

But Alice still made a promise to herself. She would never parent a Jennifer. Her child would never need to disappear to be free. They wouldn't have to sneak out with their friends, or board the next train to halfway across the world. Alice would never allow herself to spiral out of control in this bog of paranoia and mess with her children's minds. Alice learned something from Jennifer, grateful to be taught what would happen if Alice were to be selfish; suffocate her children with her uncontrolled tendencies would lead to losing them forever.

It's what Jennifer's parents deserved- they made a bed they would need to learn to lie in. But Alice would never be them. She would never have to understand what it would mean to lose someone you loved.

Alice had lost a friend. She wouldn't lose a child too.

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

When Alice fell pregnant with her first child, she was born nearly perfect. Perfect chubby little face, bright green eyes, soft strains of blonde fluttering over her soft head. Alice fell in love with the soft little baby girl from first sight. As she cradled the precious thing in her arms, she promised her with just the coo of her eyes, that she would protect the little angel. Defend her from any pain or jab that the world could inflict. Alice didn't know what it was in that moment, but her mind flicked to Jennifer. Somehow, she saw her in Susan; sweet gentle eyes, bubbly smile, it was like she rained some of her sunshine down on to her baby.

Then Alice remembered her promise. She thought about what her children deserved, what she got to have as a child. And she kept her promise. As her child would grow, Alice would adapt, and let them explore the world and get their feel around it. Jack on the other hand, had a different approach. After Susan had gotten sick, for the remainder of the year, Jack would hover over Susan; things that could hurt her, would hurt her, in his mind. So, she when he was there, Susan was forbidden from doing those things. 

This made a sharp ping of vex shot through Alice. Everytime Jack ovrreacted, Alice wanted to grab him and pull him away from their daughter; let her have her fun and grow within her own range. Not based on this phobia of death that would linger around Jack. After a year, Jack finally realized this and relaex himself with his tendencies towards Susan. After all, she was a baby, so she would never remember the irritation of having a smothering cloak follow her everywhere she went.

Roger wasn't so lucky. And Alice's agitation only grew more when he came along.

While Alice adored the father and son's tender relationship, a small tingle that liked to gnaw at her kept some thoughts bubbling. Jack's approach was rather more babyish towards Roger, than to Susan, even when he grew older. Jack needed to be there to hold Roger's hand, he needed to make sure he didn't fall out of bed, he had to make sure his food wasn't too hot or too cold. Not because he was sickly. Roger being the only boy, being the youngest, and sharing the same personality of his father, enhanced their attachment to each other. But, it was still very little reason for either parent to shelter Roger, Alice thought.

But as Roger grew from the small little infant, into a little boy and then a preteen, Alice understood just how much the tingle would continue to gnaw into her. 

"Roger, watch out!" "Roger, be careful!" "Roger, don't touch that!" "God Roger! Why can't you listen?! Don't you know that's dangerous?!" 

All usual phrases of Jack's fright. Alice would bite her tongue, while her anger simmered inside of her like a volcano ready to roar. Everytime Jack would stifle Roger, he'd just pull away and Jack would pull harder. It made Alice want to rip her hair out- not from Roger's testing of independence, but from Jack's helicopter affection. Roger wasn't a baby and shouldn't have been treated as one. So, Alice would let Roger do some of things that seemed pretty reasonable to her. "He's just growing up," is what she would always say to her concerned husband. But what she would try to do for her son, Jack would undo it with his smothering.

Alice would let Roger ride his bike for a little later than usual. Jack would find out and get in his car and search for Roger until he found him and drive him home. "He could've been hurt, Alice." Jack would excuse. Alice bit her tongue and would try again. A later curfew; Jack would bring him home. A new friend who seemed trustworthy; Jack would spy on them like a hawk. A new movie that wasn't too violent; Jack would accompany him and his friends.

The angrier it made Roger, the angrier Alice became. She was afraid of losing Roger too- because of Jack. He was the one who couldn't let go, and it was ruining Alice's apperance as well. When Roger slammed his door- angry at Jack- it would slam in Alice's face too. She promised him- silently- everytime that she let him have freedom, that it was because she loved him and trusted him. She didn't want to be selfish. She didn't Roger to be Jennifer. 

But Jack just couldn't stop himself. If Roger pushed, Jack would pull and leave Alice to cut the strings and start all over. Her anger piped more and more when Roger grew into a college student. Eighteen years old, with a bright future. And there was Jack, still seeing him as little 'Rogerino'. It was all about Jack and how it affected him. It made Alice hate him at the same time she loved him. She would become silently fired up with Jack's excuses over how Roger shouldn't even be allowed to grow up on his own terms. But it never quite presented itself in that way. 

"Just let him be," or "He doesn't mean it, Jack. Give him time and he'll see you only want what's best for him." Total contrast to her jaded emotions, hidden behind such reassuring words. But soon even the calm couldn't cover the seething anger.

It was shortly after Roger had moved out of the home and into his Seattle apartment, when Jack started to ramble one night. A bit drunk and overworked from the overtime shift, Jack began to call Roger 'ungrateful' and 'spolied.' Alice sat in the bathroom curling the last tuft of hair into her roller, biting down the tingle in her gut. "I would have loved to live at my parent's home when I was his age, but I was practically pushed out-"

"Jack, you left."

"What?"

"You left your parent's home because you didn't want to be there," Alice finally turned to Jack. "David was abusive and Lucy didn't do anything about it, so you left because it was never a home for you..... and maybe that's why Roger left." Alice's throat became heavy. 

"Alice... we didn't push him out of the house. Roger, wanted Seattle, so he ran there instead. God.... I don't get why-"

"Because of you, Jack! He left because he didn't want to be around you! GOD, EVEN I DON'T WANNA BE AROUND YOU! YOU SUCKED THE LIFE OUT OF THAT BOY AND NOW HE......" Alice broke down crying. Jack wrapped his arms around her and blamed it all on the change within the home. In his mind, Roger caused his poor mother to explode with such a nonesene rant. But to Alice- even long after she was tucked away in her bed- she blamed Jack. And then she blamed herself.

Roger became Jennifer, and she became the bystander she once was the day the Lowe's came to her house, begging to know where their daughter was. Her eyes brimmed with stinging tears until they slowly dropped onto the pillow under her face. That was a few years ago.

Now Roger was thirty. He had released a new novel since then, and she'll never forget the moment Jack told her the last words their son spoke to him on the phone, before he never called.

Furious at Jack for making Roger do such a thing, she dialed his number over and over that night, once Jack had gone to sleep. But it was always a dead line and a broken, unattended number. Roger had changed it. Tears trailed down her cheeks. Her son was gone. And it was all Jack's fault. As angry as she was- and would always be- at her husband for pushing their youngest child away from their ties of love and peace, she was also relieved. Happy at Roger for finding his footing, and relieved that she did make an impact on Roger's independence strike. 

Thinking of Jack, Alice smiled to herself. It's his bed that he made, and now he would need to lie in it. She decided she wouldn't call Roger anymore- if he wanted to reconcile with Jack, it would be his choice and his only. Jack would need to understand the cost of everything he put them through. She had not forgotten or lost interest in Roger, like Jack assumed. She was doing what she had always planned on doing anyway: respecting his choice as an adult. But he was still out of their lives and Alice would still need to adjust to the fact. But still.......

Alice wanted better for her children. She wanted to let them be happy. But now Roger was gone.... and once again, she would have to wonder- for better or for worse......what could she have done different? 

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

Jack let the cold of the glass press against his cheek. The mummers of the plane were like a background noise as a celling fan would be. His mind felt bland and barren- unable to process a thought. Frankly, Jack enjoyed the silence of his brain. Without his mind racing in a thousand circles at onece, it freed him to rest for a moment; process exactly what he was getting himself into.

"Our next stop is New York City- we'll be landing in twenty minutes everyone." The pilot annouced overhead. Jack shuffled in his seat and let himself enjoy the remaining time he had until he would have to face his past that was wedged in this now considered working class neighborhood. The thought of his old worn in home sent unwanted heat through Jack's body. He expected a slimy shiver to snake through his veins but instead was met with this warm lukewarm touch. Jack resonated that maybe he felt a safety in knowing that no one would be there. His mother Lucy had put the house up for sale and moved down to Rhode Island to live with her sister, Bessie, and her husband, Walker.

Jack found it hard to even crack a smile for his mother. She had a better life now... but it still wasn't enough for him to care. A burden off his shoulders maybe of her being out of his life for good maybe. But that faint resentment still wafted through and it wasn't about to be easily removed. Like a wine stain on white carpet, it would take more than just a measly little wet wipe the abolish the soil.

As the plane hit the concrete pavement, Jack felt himself shake into a new state; eyes wide open and alert now. Taking a good stern look out his window, Jack nodded to himself as if to say: "We're here now, Jack... we're here now."

Taking a big gulp of silent air inside his lungs, Jack unbuckled his seatbelt and loaded his suitcase out of the bin before walking out of the plane. The view of the city was as breathtaking as ever. The smell of the fresh sea salt water and the blares of boats loading in their docks. It was old and new to Jack. "When did New York go get itself in such a big hurry?" He said to himself. Jack could remember his last visit, that fall when his family had came down for David's funeral.

A twitching ping sharpened itself in his stomach as he stepped closer and closer out of the airport. Jack scanned the city all around him- all alone now, just he was only a few years ago in the same spot, only he was shuttling himself away from the city. The city surrounded him- caving him in like he really was the one of a million others moving around him.

But Jack was back this time... and things would be different. It wouldn't end with bright lights and the smoke filled air from the boats.... it would begin this time. And it would only move Jack closer to settling the flying tension that had haunted him for years.

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

There it was. A beige bricked home with the dark white shudders and matching porch light. The chairs were gone, the flowers had been pulled up and the driveway sat empty. In fact, the whole home sat hollow and somber like the life that onced danced in it was stripped to its very bare. And there was some truth to that.

As Jack stepped closer, the for sale sign sat like a flag of defeat, perched upright on the grass, waving to every car that passed by. Jack took closer steps to the home, making his way on the curb till he faced the house from his front. Jack had knew the house was up in the market and so he called ahead of time and asked for a quick look inside. The realitor was had a smile over her face- kind and peachy Jack thought. "Hi, I'm Cora- from the HomeCrafters office," she shook his hand. "So, you're interested in the house- it's currently listing at six hundred and it just went up on the market I think around December of last year. If you would like to take a look inside..." Cora unlocked the front door and led Jack into the home.

Jack was expecting to be met with the familiar scent of musty wood and faint burnt greese, but smelt the an enticing scent of bleach and cleanser all around the downstairs. The walls were freshly painted and the empty. The spot where David's old chair used to be was bare and cleaned over with a fresh mop and wood polish. No carpet stains over the wood or cracks in the walls from David's drunken temper flare ups.... clean and crisp like it never happened.

Jack went from room to room searching for something- anything to find that would've shown him that there was some life of his past that lived here, but everything he ever knew- even the painful memory of his head being thrown into a wall, leaving the space of the wall weaker than the rest- was either painted over, recrafted or cleansed.

Jack knew how much David had spent on this home and how hard he worked for it. It brought inextinguishable pride to him that he was the first on his block to own a home and raise a family in that home. A legacy he hoped to create with his bare hands and prayed that it would outlive him. The more Jack wandered the house, the more he realized those prayers were in vain. Every wall, ceiling and floor had something new about it, leaving any remaints of the original stripped and destroyed. When David died, so did the house, and Jack didn't know how to feel about that.

His old bedroom still carried the same memories- just in a different shade of white. He could pinpoint exactly where his old bed used to be, and the chifforobe and then the chest that sat at the end of his bed- smacking up against the lower headboard. Jack felt this whiff of coldness bleed into him. He felt monotoned over his own disapperance from the home. In his mind, he reasoned that he killed himself from the home a long time ago, but there was still something about his room that lingered a certain feeling like his presence still ghosted the bedroom somehow. 

Jack took in a deep breath and made up his mind that he saw all he needed to see. Scanning his parent's old bedroom for even just one little piece of what used to be theirs, but found nothing. There was nothing in this house that captured their essance or even their bleak sense of taste. Jack could point to where the davenport was, the old vintage rug from his great grandmother and where every picture stood on the shelf of the fireplace or over the walls. But it wasn't there. Nothing of David or Lucy was there.

"I looked around and.... I don't this is the house for me." 

Cora smiled. "Okay, well I have plenty of other houses on the market too if you're interested," she handed him her card, "my number is in the phone book, and if you're looking for a particular style of home, just give me a call and we'll keep looking."

Jack was fond of Cora's politeness. "Thank you very much." As they left the home, Jack felt a piece of him feel lighter than before. 

Unsure of what it was- or what it meant- Jack continued walking to his rental car and just watched as Cora drove off first and then waited a few minutes- taking one last look at his old home- before he did the same.

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

Jack had a quick dinner at the diner with a little rest in a clean motel. Jack sat on the bed- his mind swirling in different directions. The only stapled thought was to call Alice. Sitting on his bed, Jack played with the button of his dress shirt as the dial tone hummed for Alice's line to come to life. 

"Hello?" 

"Alice, it's Jack."

"Jack! Oh my goodness- how's it going?"

"Oh it's fine... my old childhood home- the one Lucy put up for sale.... it's empty. It's been painted and cleaned up- walking inside it just feels like... everything that ever happened it that house, has been washed away...."

Alice was silent on the other end, but still managed to let out a hum. "It's hard to explain it, but.... I don't know...." Jack let the sound of his soft breathing slink through the other end. "I gotta go, I'm on my way to Virgina in the morning..."

"Okay... I'll see you when you get back... love you..."

"Love you too, Alice."

"Jack...."

"Yes?...."

"....Nevermind...." Click!

Jack still had the phone pressed up to his ear. He slowly pulls the phone down from his ear and slams it back onto the reciever. Jack carefully laid his head against the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Slowly he let his eyes fall until black consumed him. And the he fell into a deep slumber with his mind set for a five AM wake up call.

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

Taking his rental car back to the dealer, he grabbed a bus ticket before waiting for the next greyhound to come and pick him up. 

Jack sat in the bus depot with his suitcase tight in his hand. The bus came and a warmth fell over Jack. He handed the pass to the driver, before walking down the aisle and finding a seat that was towards the back. He set his suitcase on the floor next him and settled himself against the window- staring out at the clumps of snow that were bordered underneath the rims of the sidewalks. As the bus wheeled away, the passing skyscrapers and thick swarm of cars and the flocks of people going on through their everyday like nothing happened. The greyhound made its way onto the highway and the New Yorkers didn't bat an eye. 

A part of Jack liked it that way. It reminded him of when it was his time to leave the city for good. Undisclosed and quiet without so much as a rattle through his own tumultuous pain that he buried deep inside him- coated in bittersweet happiness of freedom as he escaped the city.

Jack passed by the old streets of his Brooklyn apartment and then the Manhatten one that he sheltered in for a few years after graduating from University. A sudden jolt of the thought reminded him of Roger. Swallowing back any vibrating consequential emotions connected to the thought, Jack focused his sight on the pair of seats in front of him. Hours soon passed into the evening when Jack had finally arrived in Virgina. A wave of difference floated through the air; this city obviously held its contrast to New York. As the bus carried Jack farther and farther into the city, he could almost envision David's looming and lingering presence around Norfolk.

As the greyhound settled into its bus station, Jack carried his suitcase and himself off and called for the nearest taxi. Renting a car for the adventure filled Jack with this swaying unease- a boat rocking against the wrath of the ocean as it braced itself for the jarring jolts ahead. Jack grinded and squeezed his fingers against the steering wheel of his Mercedes. Forcing controlled breaths from his lungs, Jack plugged the key into the ignition and drove off the lot.

Streetlights illuminated him as he drove to find a place to rest in this new dominion. Not a ghost town, but one that had clearly fallen behind in its timing. As Jack found a well used but last resort motel, he checked in for the night and once settled into his room, he took in a deep breath of the newfound dense potato and wood musk. Jack just laid back in bed, thinking to himself what the hell he'd gotten himself into. Where would he begin? Why was he even here in the first place? What was the point?..... David was dead.... and so were his well buried secrets.

Jack let his eyes close until a smoggy darkness overcame him and he was once again back where he was only another night ago: a motel room, lying on his bed and thinking to himself. Too tired to call home, instead he just thought about it. His cozy home where Alice was probably baking something in the oven, Susan and Sean tucked away in their San Fransisco townhouse, probably snuggled up on the couch together watching a movie with their own eyes drooping. And then there was Roger.....

Maybe he was reading a book- taking ideas from another story or author with the same creative mind like his. Or he was hunched over at his desk in his home office, typing up his latest chapter or draft for an upcoming novel he probably spent months or years on with only the soft hue of the desk light. Jack always believed Roger could be a writer. He had an intelligent mind, a vivid imagination and a knack for writing up some very detailed reports if it were a subject he was particularly interested in.

An abrupt flash to a baby Roger playing with his toy blocks in the living room rocked Jack's brain before another thought of his and Roger's front yard argument when Roger was first packing up to leave for Seattle. The thoughts unsettled Jack; forcing himself to find a reason or turn off from what his brain was playing out for him and what his emotions were dripping out for him to sink into. He decided he needed to bury his mind and just let the darkness of sleepiness consume him like an overwhelming tide that beats down over the sand and only leaves its seashells or seaweed behind as a memo of their apperance. So Jack just let his mind empty into blank static before he turned over and fell asleep.

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

The morning was bright and Jack had already left the motel. His suitcase was tucked in the trunk of the car. Jack drove around the city, parking at a park to drink his morning coffee and eat his Mcdonald's breakfast sandwiches and hashbrowns. The view from his windshield was scerecne and gentle. A lush green grassy field that was now blanketed in snow with trees and their bare stems that held rims of snow on top of them. Jack's mind wandered from one corner to another. His coat ruffled under the seatbelt and his forehead begin to bead some dampness from the heat only on mild blast.

Finishing the last bite of his breakfast, Jack took a sip of coffee before starting the car back up again and started down the road. Quiet and mild with only a few cars here and there driving alongside Jack. It was a certain safety that flew over him while he was in his car- just himself and no one else. He knew the directions to David's old home. It would only be a spring of luck that it would take him down into this rabbit hole where David's real legacy lived. And his past wouldn't be hidden or questioned anymore. 

Jack kept driving; radio tunes by now were sounding through the car for a bit until Jack decided that silence would be what he wanted in that moment. Eyes steadied and focused on the road, Jack thought of nothing else except finding David's old home. He knew so much as David living by himself. He never had an actual all american apple pie family- a mother or father, not even siblings as far as he knew. David spent his childhood in a small orphanage somewhere by the little town David lived in for a few months to find steady work before he took his ambitions into the city. Jack didn't know how to picture David's old home. Which one would be his real home? The orphanage or the home he moved into after he was legally released into the care of only himself. Rain Trout Drive..... David's old neighborhood. Jack pulled his car further and further along the street- an aching ping bubbling inside of his stomach like a bath bomb that explodes on impact with the water.

An old tanish yellow townhouse stood on the end of the corner. Jack checked the address and it was it. 4265 Rain Trout Drive. Tall and sturdy with black shudders and a brown painted door. Jack came closer; two doors were what he expected to see, but instead it was just a solo door, one mailbox and one driveway. David had the whole home to himself and Jack shook his head wondering what would make David flee from the home so fast. According to state records, David lived here for nearly two years before he flocked to the next town over and then New York. Jack had turned off the car and stepped outside, letting the cold wind slap his cheeks. He took shallow steps towards the old home, wary as it was abandoned and it could break apart at any minute if it really was as raggedy as some of the other ones.

Jack knocked on the door- it creaked open already without him so much turning the door knob. It unsettled him, but rattled his curiousty at the same time. Jack took a deep breath to himself and then slowly walked inside the home. 

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

The house now carried an aged earthly smell. The walls were chipped of paint. From what Jack could make out of it, the walls were a dark cream color with white trimming rimmed around the doors of each room. The living room was decent sized and so was the kitchen. Jack looked around the home carefully. He held no expectations to what he was to find in the home. The home carried more of an old presence of David more than their home in Buffalo. Old faint shadows of posters and pictures David must've hung over the walls were faded but still present. Jack furrowed his eyebrows a bit- his style of his youth favored David's a bit. He could picture how his funrniture must've looked or how the posters of woman movie stars danced across his bedroom walls- a private picture show of their beaming faces.

Jack only heard the sound of his shoes tapping against the floor. Jack cautioned himself against going upstairs in case the staircase was rigidity. A hollow cool fell over him. The stairs were enticing, but Jack still worried himself over falling through the floorboards. Swallowing and wondering for a minute or two, he breathed in and then out before placing one part of his toes on the stairs. They felt firm and strict like they had been fixed or rebuilt before he came to the house. Jack walked up one step, then two, then three.... then the second group of stairs.

He found David's room. He knew it was his bedroom. The townhouse was much smaller than Jack imagined it to be. A light burnt orange with the same white trimming. Jack could make out where a small classroom like desk was once in a corner and then where David's twin sized bed sat. Jack bit the side of his lip. When he left home at twenty, he was better off with money than David was. At least Jack could afford a full sized bed and a more than decent sized desk. Even an orange tabby, Simba, that he took care of until he just couldn't anymore. 

Scanning the different rooms, Jack almost felt a twinge of sadness pinch him. David still somehow lived through the cold choppy air of this house, but it was all frosted with this thick haze of bitter sadness. Jack could only put his finger to what he thought might be the reason, but could never be too sure. The reasons why changed over the years- Jack's perceptions as to what they could be- but one thing stayed the same, even when Jack was still a small child. He knew how deeply angry David was- not even at Jack himself, but his own self. It wasn't until Jack became eleven years old when he realized that his father drank to soothe something inside that had made a cozy little nest there and wasn't about to disappear even at the bottom of an old scotch. Jack walked back downstairs and braced himself again for the cold air of the outside. But just as he was about to step off the staircase, he found something that was caught in between the creaks of the stairs. 

It was a pamphlet of Riverbirch orphanage. Jack raised a brow, but the neatly folded the old pamphlet and tucked it inside the pocket of his coat. Taking one last look around the house, Jack shook his head slightly and walked out, closing the door behind him.

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

Jack sat in his hotel that night. David's legacy didn't exist in his old home either, but his pain did. And Jack could feel it. As the night went by, Jack could that there was something inside his belly that flashed him omens of him finding something out about his father that he wasn't sure he wanted to know. But he did. He needed to know- after all those years of torment, Jack needed this closure. And if he had this closure, then he could share it with the ones he loved the most: Alice, Susan, Sean.... Roger. He needed to make amends with Roger. And he was in too deep now to back out.

Jack let his hand hover over the phone and the slowly pull away back to his body. He didn't want to call Alice this time.... 

A piece of him knew she wouldn't really want to talk to him anyway. Jack scanned the pamphlet and read every word carefully. Riverbirch orphanage. The place where David spent all his childhood. Jack always wondered how David ended up in the orphanage, but it was always tight lipped his origins of how he became an orphan anyway. As far as Jack knew, his paternal grandparents were dead. He asked his mother about them one night but she shrugged. "Your father doesn't really like to talk about it too much, sweetie.... I assumed they died sometime after he was born."

Jack furrowed his brows a bit. He looked closely at the tall brick building in the picture. Staring at it, he begin to wonder its secrets. Even more so, he begin to wonder why David would have that pamphlet with him in the first place. It all circled around Jack's head like an orbit until he fell asleep and let his eyes close into a sleep full of unanswered questions.

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

The Norfolk library was helpful. Jack did research on the orphanage and found that they took in babies from care hospitals back when it was open. Riverbirch orphanage had long been demolished. A pastor there named Father Louis was imprisoned for child abuse and illegal business dealings. He died in prison that September and they never exactly got him to say what he did to those kids in detail. They tracked down the former director who was about to face life imprisonment for committing a murder back in the thirties, but shot himself when he was trapped inside his home when the police cars raided his driveway and street. 

Jack sat at the computer desk stunned and disturbed with the information he had to process. He looked up the care home and found a baby boy with the name David had been taken there in the winter around December. Jack knew it had to be David as he was born that same year. The baby was later taken to Riverbirch because a young woman had placed him in the hands of the nurses there before she left the building. They assumed he was a child of an unmarried woman and man and so he was deemed a baster child in the care home even before he was labeled one at Riverbirch.

Jack went down a rabbit hole before he saw a young man around that time; eyes looking a spitting image of his father's, except the boy sported red hair. David's mother was brunette. No other information was found on the boy or on a baby David or the woman that dropped him off at the hospital. Jack could only assume it was his mother. Maybe it was his desperate determination that drew him to it, but Jack had found something that related to David- it had to be: same year, the same birthdate, same name.... same story. It was David. And the more Jack read through lost files, the more he understood that at one point David tracked down his mother. He never mentioned it... he never visited her... but when he found her, he found out truths about himself that he didn't want to exist.

But Jack found them. And it made him realize more things about David's history that he at one point suspected, but never understood how true it really was.

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

Henry, a bright student from The College of William and Mary, finishing his last semester. On the rise to be the town's most intellectual professor, Henry carried the world in his fingers. Hands in his pockets as he strolled to the library- old English poets swirled around his mind like a Ferris wheel. Something his teacher made the class prepare for if they were to pass their exams that following Thursday.

The college library seemed to have every book about everything. With the book in his hand, Henry glanced over to see a woman; strong brunette locks, a cheeky little smirk across her face, daring blue eyes and a faint clef over her soft chin. Reaching for a book, the woman stood on her tippy toes. "I gotcha." Henry grabbed the book and handed it to the young lady. "Oh, thank you very much." A blush fell across her face. Scanning her, Henry thought to himself that she looked more like a Bernice or a Destiny. But she was a Clara. Henry envisioned Claras to have long curly black hair and striking gray or green eyes. "Pretty name, dear." Clara's body shifted. Henry sensed her change and introduced himself. "I'm Henry. I go to school here."

She smiled faintly. "Me too... I'm taking a major to be a teacher someday." Henry chuckled. "A decent woman's job, that's for sure." Clara's polite demeanor dropped and she stepped aside until she grabbed the other book she wanted and excused herself out of the aisle. Henry watched her walk away; her body swaying back and forth in that sunflower dress, how shiny and dainty her legs were, the sound of her sandals clicking away. A smirk crept across Henry's face as he held his own book up against his mouth to hide the forming words of filth that were bleeding from his mind. How sharp she looked, he thought. How confident she was, he thought again. Henry tossed the book up and back into his hand before he walked out of the aisle, wondering where Clara went.

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

Henry found himself in the corridors of the school, eyeing Clara from across the way. Clara had noticed him, but pretended like she didn't, despite her shoulders stiffening when they met eyes, not once... but twice. A spark of playful mischief twinkled in Henry's eyes, before he made his way over to the young woman and gave her a firm pat on her behind. "Oh!" She turned, eyes full of chagrin. "Oh, come on baby.... just a little compliment."

Clara squinted her eyes and stared real good into Henry's sparking green eyes, that seemed to glimmer more in the stare of the sun. "You listen here, and you listen real good!" Her teeth gritted. "If you ever touch me again, then you're gonna lose that hand! Got it?!" Henry held up his hands in fake surrender. "Yes, Ma'am!" A goofy smile sprawled across his face. Clara stared at him for a minute more, before storming away and down the hall. Henry chuckled to himself before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "Crazy broad."

Clara was still angry even all that day. Angered at how the nice guy at the library, turned out to be this chauvinistic jerk. But the memory of his own looks were still locked inside her brain, despite her hating that it was. Chiseled jaw, searing flaming red hair- slicked back in this perfect cut, piercing leaf colored eyes that bore into you whenever you looked into them, and this hoppy smile with faint little sprinkles of freakles under his eyes. A total man's man, as she would put it. Kicking herself for feeling this way; ignoring the flagrant way he treated her, Clara was better than that. Even when Henry would nudge her leg with his foot during class, she ignored him. Or when he would 'play' with her skirt, she would smack his hand away. And then... when he cupped her breast, she slapped him hard against his cheek. 

Eyes filled with rage she said: "Is that all women are to you? Sex things?!" Henry shook his head with the same goofy smile he wore the first time she confronted him. "Oh, come on, sweet thing.... you know you want it." As Clara was about to speak, she quieted herself. Something spiked her mind: did she really want it?

But there was no chance to answer that question. Henry pressed his lips tightly to hers and before she knew it, he had swept her off her feet. Taking her to his car, their lips still intertwined with each other. Her feet gliding up against his back, while he carefully strips her underwear from under her dress. Passion overtakes Clara's good conscience as they hump into each other finally.... breathless. Slipping himself back up, Henry climbs into the driver's seat and takes Clara back to her dorm. "See you around." Clara is left to take one last look at Henry before he speeds away, while she's forced to think to herself: What the hell have I done?

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

It was three weeks later. Clara couldn't stop throwing up. No matter what she ate, she couldn't keep it down. A stomach bug, she tried to reassure herself with, but it never worked. Clara- deep inside her gut- understood the answer. And it was that night when it finally hit her. She cried the whole night, thinking about how ruined her future was. Her career, gone, Her schooling, gone, her family, gone, her reputation.... super gone. Who would hire an unwed mother? A baby born out of wedlock would be a death sentence for the child. Clara knew if anyone found this out, then her days at the college would be over, her parents would have this scowl etched over their faces and she wouldn't be their precious daughter- but this big fat ugly stain with a tattooed 'A' right on the front of her every clothing; A reincarnated Hester Prynne- her parents demanding to know who the father is. But Clara was a good girl. She wouldn't want to get Henry in trouble... she didn't want to hurt anyone.

Especially herself. So... Clara- in this mist of tears- came up with a few plans. Her first was to tell Henry. 

Flying down to the school library, Clara found Henry chatting up some other girl, while studying for his own exam. The girl looked uncomfortable and was glad when Clara stepped in between the pair. "Clara?" Henry looked up. "What the hell?"

"No, Henry- this is serious, I need to talk to you." He arched his eyebrow. "I'm clean."

"What?"

"I mean, I'm not walking around with Syphilis if that's what you're wondering."

"What- no! I mean..." She came closer. "I think I'm pregnant." Henry's eyes widened, but he still kept a straight face. "So."

Clara took a step back, stunned. "What do you mean so?" 

"So.... abort it. If you don't want it... then don't have it. Kill it. I don't want it." Tears stung the corners of Clara's eyes. How much of a fool she felt to think Henry would want any part of this. "Okay... fine." Her voice cracked. She walked away, biting back the sobs that seemed to be clogged in her throat. Clara was now forced to think of her second plan.

That night, she gathered a sterile coat hanger. Lubricating the sharp hook in solution, Clara inserted it inside of herself. She tried tugging and pulling and piercing the fetus. But nothing. Not even blood was was dripping from the hanger once she pulled it down. So, she used a clean sewing needle. No luck. Lye would surely work. But it didn't. And after a few of these remedies, Clara gave up. Now all that was left was the last plan.

That week, Clara bought big oversized dresses and coats. She wore them for those nine months- bellowing over her little frame, while it hid her little secret nice and well. Clara's belly wasn't overly big, but carried a little round plump bump all the way up until her due date. Clara's nerves were on fire. She prayed that her water wouldn't break during class and she hoped her labor would begin on a weekend. Finally her luck cashed itself in that Saturday night. Clara had prepared for this for awhile. Studying pregnancy and pregnant woman during those months, she learned to time her contractions, how to position herself for the baby's head to crown properly and what to squeeze during those breathtaking contractions.

Clara just hoped nothing went wrong. She had gained this knowledge properly and had mentally prepared herself for the event. Clara ran down to the library and hid herself away in the farthest corner of the library. With her blankets and towels, Clara took of her underwear, squated down and placed the towels in between her legs. Timing her contractions she pushed hard until they stopped. And then another one would start and she would bare down hard again. After a few more, Clara could feel the baby's head crowning. As the head moved closer, she bit back her screams and bared down. Once the baby's head came into view, Clara took her hand and felt to see if the umbilical cord was wrapped around its neck. Then with all her might, Clara pushed out the shoulders and from there, guided the baby into the towel.

Taking two pieces of shoelace string, Clara tied them around the umbilical cord tightly before cutting it with the small sterile knife she brought. Her baby was a boy. Swaddling her newborn in a blanket, she carefully placed him against her chest to nurse. Then she birthed the placenta; wrapping it up and disposing of it somewhere deep in the trash bin. Clara cleaned herself up and took herself and her baby out of the library, making sure not a speack of blood touched the carpeted floors and ran out, holding the baby in her arms.

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

David. After her sweet great grandfather who lived in Spain. Her baby's boy's name was David. For those first few days, she nursed little David in her arms, rocking him to sleep in a makeshift little cot she made in her dorm. Clara counted down the days until winter break; only two days until she would take her baby to a fondling hospital, just on the outskirts of Virginia. 

The day came; wrapping her little infant in a cozy little maroon blanket she made and stuffing him carefully inside a box with little holes poked through for air, before she dashed out into the cold of December and ran all the way down to the hospital. Walking up to the front desk, Clara set the box on the counter. "I found him last night in this little box just outside of the Leechwood bakery." She said before the nurse even asked for anything about Clara or David. "His name's David," pointing to the side of the little box, she showed the nurse the writing. "he's yours now." Giving one last look to the little baby- his soft green eyes, little whiskers of chocolate brown hair and his cherry lips. Clara sighed silently to herself, giving an internal tearful goodbye to her son. 

Clara put her hood over her head once more before dashing back out into the cold, leaving her child in the hands of a stranger and the system.

It would be after the winter break ended and the semester started again, when Henry would run up to Clara asking her about the baby. She turned to him; sqaure in the eyes staring him down into the core of the earth. "He's gone. Your son.... is gone."

"My son?" Clara nodded. "He's in the hands of the system- they'll find him a good home.... and an even better family than what we could've ever been to him."

"Clara-"

"Don't act like you care! You wanted me to get rid of it.... so I did."

She turned around and walked away from Henry- her brown hair dancing against her shoulders, leaving Henry to just stare until his vision blurred with tears from the scratching cold. It took a few moments before he gathered his breath and would walk the other way to his dorm.

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

Riverbirch orphanage. The late spring of that year was when David was transferred to the place. Given the last name Chambers from a state picked list that the director of the orphanage picked from, David became a full legal person. But not a respected one. Despite being just a new infant, he was a cursed child. One born from out wedlock- a wild untamed little devil that had spun itself into the form of a human. David was given stricter treatments because of this. Not to say the others had it easy; suffering from untreated smallpox, malnutrition, polio- every child in the place seemed to have their battles to contend with. 

David learned not to cry. He knew no one would come and soothe him. Sometimes they did- they'd hit to get him to stop. Smack his back for walking the wrong way, slap his wrist for being left handed. One time a hot pan was thrown his way because he accidentally knocked over his cup of milk. Dodging it, it slammed into Fred's face. Leaving a small nick against the side of of his cheekbone, Fred hated him ever since. 

Sometimes he'd go outside and dump ants into David's cot. Or he would draw on the walls and blame David, letting the nun snatch him up and give him several lashes over his rear end. Fred would laugh while David cried. 

"Shut up you baster child!" yelled the director. "do as you're told and you'll be spared punishment!" But he never was. David was always punished, sometimes just for existing. Despite the dark looming cloud that hung over and dragged itself around David with every step he went, he was a savvy little boy. Deep down- despite his cynical hopes of being adopted into a family- he knew no one would take a 'baster' child. He had no mother or father, and he couldn't allow himself to believe that they were together when they left him. Sometimes he'd wondered what they looked like. Brown hair, black hair, red hair, blonde.... were they from Spain or Norway? Were they wealthy? Poor? Had they viewed him as a mistake? David learned at twelve that he was given a state appointed last name- his own father's last name wasn't even his.

David could remember several things- bombshells of that year. Fred had been moved to a different home with another family, a fresh group of new children arrived: Ada, Albert, Arthur and Lily had been assinged to his room, and the director had been retired and was replaced with Father Louis.

The snow of winter had withered away and somehow, so did the old naivety of David's youth. He was thirteen. David grew determined to make this year the perfect year of discovery. He would understand himself better and the scars of his old state of mind would maybe even fade away into a such a small grain of mist. But just as the prim white clouds of the summer fade, so did David's new ambition.

David then started to wish for something- a miracle to have the old director back. Sure, she was cruel in some ways. And the nun she sided with could be be amoral in even the best times. But.... he knew how to handle them. The director loved to drink with the nun and they would be zonked out and huddled somewhere in their corner, while the children would play games of chess and hopscotch with old pebbles they found on the schoolgrounds or old little pieces of the nun's cane that would fall off sometimes while she did surprise inspections in their rooms.

Father Louis was the embodiment of Satan himself. He took sick pleasure in making people cry- especially children. At least David swore. Walter Burns- not the nicest kid in the orphanage, but he didn't deserve for boiling water to be splashed in his face. Walter whimpered the whole night, nursing his red face with a cool wash rag. David looked on with deep sympathy- not asking Walter to hush his whimpers, but letting them scratch through the sensitive tips of his empathy and enduring the timid new reality of the understood situation that esculated through the orphanage: no one was okay.... no one was safe.

And David would learn that through harsh smacks across his face from the Father, or when his little hand was placed over the steaming iron pan on the stove for touching himself- Father Louis had caught him one night while he did room checks. Or that dreadful summer day when Father Louis gave a sermon that was so abhorrently bloodcurdling, that David had accidentally wet himself in bed that night. He was woken up by the Father dragging him out of the bed and made David clean the sheets. David didn't think it was unfair comepletly... at first. But it was when Father Louis banished him to the cot for the whole day and was forbidden from wearing any trousers or underwear for the duration. A hard cane was thrashed against his bare bottom by the Father; tears streaming down David's cheeks as he screamed and cried in agony. The other children could hear his cries from the lunchroom as they were enjoying their mid morning snack. 

Father Louis looked David into his eyes; venom swirling around inside of his pupils- foaming at the mouth as his jaw was clentched and his teeth were gritted together. "You baster child," he sneered, "if you ever leak on that cot again, I will drag your hellbound soul out of this orphanage and onto the street!" He bored deeper into David's fragile glass eyes. "You are nothing! Don't think for one moment you're special- as if your mother didn't dump a piece of trash out of her life just so she could continue hers." Father Louis walked around the room, an evil smirk appearing before dropping into a jaded glare. "That's what half the children here are- baster children. Mommies that don't have Daddy around to help raise their children- God knows she'll be sacrificing too much if anyone were to find out," looking to David, the smirk came back, "even if she did want you..... it wouldn't be enough to keep you with her. She chose her life over yours, David." He chuckled. "born out of sin- God put you here like all the others going to purgatory."

"Then why are you here?" David wished he kept his mouth shut. Father Louis shot him a look. One filled with rage mixed with absolute horror that he was even spoken to in such a manner. Walking over to David, carrying the same look, he took his cane and struck David against his face so hard, he tumbled back into a dresser and laid there until he woke up again in the evening. Father Louis had taken David's trousers and underwear, along with his sheets and hung them out for the entire block to see. "Baster child wet the bed," he looked over to David, "must be filled with demons."

David felt his cheeks burn as he was forced to make a makeshift diaper like item just to keep clean. No one in the orphanage laughed... but they still didn't do much to help either. David couldn't blame them. Who could help him? 

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

And the same would apply when David reached the tender age of sixteen. The same year he learned to drive, earn little chump change for clothes or food and when girl's bodies suddenly were more than just your typical poster girl. David found solance in being a full blown teen- more freedom- able to escape the bitter walls of his children's home more often.

But even David couldn't foresee the most dreadful thing to ever happen to him. It was early winter when David became a high school item with Alma Higgins. Smooth auburn hair, chestnust eyes and peach lips. Curves at every angle of her body that seemed to dance with every little movement. Sweet, dainty, cooperative- the perfect girl to fit with David's more rutted style. As they walked down the halls of the school, David felt this thick presence of stony brawniness. Arm in arm with his girlfriend while everyone stared like they were movie stars. Even, Sammy and Victor. The two jocks from the football team that were the embodiment of masculinity to David. A few years his senior, David admired the young men- their beautiful women by their side, their thick muscles that bulged veins when they would lift Gilbert Palmer, the science geek that lived for science fairs, Paul Sandwood, the scrawny short math nerd that seemed to know every math answer from the top of his head. A proud nerd he was, but it came at the costly price of being pushed around and tourmented by Sammy and Victor.

David worshipped the boys and it was a dream come true when he was invited to watch them practice their football drills. The school stadium- empty and dark from the afterhours. Even the bright brilliant lights were dimmed and withdrawn. But strapping on his varsity leatherman's jacket, David followed the boys back to the bleachers. "Sammy learned a cool move the other day while practicing," Victor escorted David under the bleachers to Sammy. David was filled with excitement from head to toe, curious to what Sammy might've learned. Maybe it would be something he could show to his friend, Oliver, or to Alma during a date. Victor and Sammy whispered something to each other before smirks grew over their face.

"Dave... come here." David took little steps to them wondering what it was they were planning. That's when Sammy grabbed David and held him, while Victor pulled down his pants.... then his underwear. David could only stand in horror as Victor fondled his most intimate part. The weird feel of his hands and the icky feeling of his brain as he struggled not to explode. But like a firecracker, he did. His ears tingled with the laughter of Sammy and Victor as Sammy let go and they high fived each other before walking away. David was left standing there. Legs numb, heart pounding out of his chest and his face too pale to blush.

It felt like hours he stood there with his pants around his ankles and his eyes stuck in the blurry daze. The moon blared down on David's shame it felt like. Stripped of his manly confidence, David felt empty. Of everything else that was taken from him: his parents, his safety, the little bit of material things he had... and now...... his self esteem. At least the last pieces of it. David finally pulled up his pants and underwear, and then stepped carefully off the football field. David didn't want to go back to the orphange that night. With Alma's help, he snuck into her bedroom that night and just passed out. Filled with such a deep ridden shame, layed a sturdy weight over David that he would never be able to shake.

It made him distant with Alma- turning away from her when she wanted affection. It made her leave David- all alone to figure things out. Walking down the halls- once a privilege- now a nightmare. Even when everyone was focused on their books or their other halves, it seemed like all eyes were locked on David. And he would still see Sammy and Victor, tourmenting their nerd victims. They would lock eyes for a few moments, before David would brisk past, spending the next few minutes trying to mentally scrub the images of their twisted faces and his permanent horror of that night. 

Things would always be different from that day forward. David would always have something to prove- even more than he already did. David had to be rougher and bloodthirsty in his personality. He would have to work harder to be a real man- if he were to be seen as one. David would start the fights or join in them with his fists and callous words. David would take what he wanted and never ask a woman for love- she should just give it to him. Never to allow tears or cries of pain slip from his lips ever again. David would never let himself be that sixteen year old under the bleachers that night. He would be a man of his own origin. David would never let his strength be ripped from him again. He would never let another pastor cane him, or be called a 'baster' child. 

He would find his way out of the fire and he would survive this time. David would never be seen as weak again. He would fight for his life the way no one else had. And this time.... he would win.

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

Graduation came for David. A glorious moment for him when he held his diploma in his hands and grazed down the stage with a prideful smile beaming across his face. Most teens feel the milestone as a sweet passage into their futures. David felt this way too, but for a different reason. 

He had been excused from the orphanage on the day before his graduation, leaving him at the mercy of cheap motel until he could find a more stable residence and financial means. David was leaving the high school where his secret would stay buried on those very bleachers. Those two stones felt lifted from his shoulders as he walked off that stage, sealing it official that he was an adult and firmly in the hands of himself. Proud that he had managed to save for a car and then eventually moved out of the motel and into a townhouse on the corner of Rain Trout Drive. A bright yellow townhouse that stood tall amongst the typical neighborhood homes on the block. As David moved his items into the home, he locked eyes with a pretty red head. Anna was her name and she had one of the friendliest smiles he'd ever seen.

A bright a bubbly young woman only a bit older than himself. David found himself constantly showing off and doing sweet deeds for her on certain occasions. She seemed to admire them, flattering him with prompting compliments and affection. But it was the next spring when David found that Anna had stopped enticing him so much. She had set her sights on Cecil Walter, an upper scale banker with a more than standard degree in financial literacy. They had wed a few months later upon meeting and soon Anna was expecting.

A little boy- Oliver was born with dark auburn hair, striking dark gray eyes that nearly looked an olive green in dimmer lighting. "Isn't he beautiful?" Anna smiled to David, showing off her brand new baby. David could see all in Anna's eyes of the typical maternal pride she carried. A love so swelled inside her that only a mother could carry for her own child. David scanned the baby's face- so perfect, so round and blooming with innocence. He swallowed back the thoughts brewing in his brain and forced a artificial smile and mustered: "He's beautiful."

That same year, David moved out.

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

He just couldn't seem to escape it. Cheaspeake was supposed to be a typical seaside town neighbored from his old one. But along with the working men and women of the town, so were the mothers and fathers with their baby carriages and hyper energetic toddlers that were tousled to their parent's sides. His work carried more family men than it did single ones. The diner- a few corners from his apartment- was filled with little boys and girls running and playing with their siblings; their parents off to the side, chatting and smiling pridefully at their children- their little blessings from heaven. A slight furrow would always peck over David's forehead and a sour thought would cross his mind. The more families he bumped into, the more sour his brain would become.

And he walked around with this sourness until he decided that the seaside wasn't his place to be anymore. That fall, his apartment was emptied out and he was on a plane into the city.

Queens, New York was where David found his future. He enrolled himself in community college and studied law for awhile. Graduating a year after, he, transferred over to the Brooklyn presinct and snagged a police patrol job. Partnered with Tim Carson, David had plenty of calls that surrounded broken homes; mothers and fathers fighting in front of their scared children, kids rebelling and getting into trouble with the law, fathers walking out for the week because of another drunken rage fight either with his oldest son or his timid wife. David hated to admit it, but he felt this slight link to those families. Broken and bruised in everyway- he found himself cheering for the prodical son, or booing the little boy who wanted Mommy to come back.

Families without the jagged edges weren't particularly boring to David... they were too happy. He would scruntinize to find something- anything that was hidden in the roots of those homes, even when he couldn't find anything, he couldn't accept that they were just simply normal. Everything he never came from. The sourness embedded itself into another layer over David's already existing pain. Then he met Lucy.

Already moved his way up to top detective, he followed his future to Buffalo, where on a call, he found a slim brunette donning the most sleek form fitting black dress and sheer black pantyhose with webbed toed heels. Investigating a crime scene- some drunk man had shot one his dealers and escaped just minutes before the police arrived. It was only when the case became one of federal crimes, did the detectives and eventually FBI have to involve themselves. "Lucy," she introduced herself, letting David plant a kiss to her hand. "I'm glad I was able to help you with the investigation." She playfully said. David looked deep into her blue eyes and smiled to himself and then to her.

"Detective Cham-"

"Please, call me, David." And then he kissed her lips. Lucy fell for David just as hard as fell for her. 

She had the perfect body, the sweetest smile- obedient and nothing less of a decent woman. David would take Lucy into the city and swoon her away into this whimsical wonderland of love and lust. While David wanted to touch her more and more, Lucy wanted to save herself for marriage. So, David waited and would continue to swoon Lucy with his money and affection. It was a spring wedding and David invited his presinct friends and Lucy invited her family and friends.

The bright bouquets and the white strings twirled around every reef or bush centered around the large community garden that held their wedding. David could remember exactly what he was thinking the day before his wedding. Lucy wasn't the strongest woman, but she made him feel strong. A picture fit of what a man and his woman should be. A man's woman should be his assistant- her dainty hands would be smaller than his. Her feminine mind would think differently- more soft and poised, tamed and plesant. She would be beautiful and bright and he would be more stony and boisterous. Her blue eyes to his green ones, her slim and curved figure to his straight and brawny one, her cherry red lips to his hidden face stuble.

David at first was scared to be a husband to Lucy- he never knew what a husband was supposed to be like. He knew a man should provide a stable income and home for his family. He would work and provide the material things they needed while the wife was to tend to the home and children. A grim shudder quivered through his spine like a cold wind wafting through an unsealed crack. The thought of creating a happy family both excited and terrified David. Lucy was only pretty enough to be beside him and making her his wife would comeplete that image of everything he wanted to be. The husband was just a title to David he knew he wouldn't live up to, but jumped into anyway. Standing at the alter and staring into Lucy's eyes the words "I do" somehow formed from his lips and their marriage became sealed and Lucy became Lucy Chambers.

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

When Lucy annouced she was pregnant, David didn't know how to respond. The sourness of his own bitter fails of obtaining a better family, David still saw every kind and gentle family as a mockery to what he was robbed from. While he watched Lucy fret and fuss over preparing for the baby, he just sat back drinking and worrying over her weight. 

Lucy was too plump- her belly was growing too fast for his liking and the more it grew, the more fearful he would become. A reminder that his life was about to change and that he would soon be responsible for a fresh new life in his hands- just like his parents were. They gave him up to the wolves at the orphanage. Those nights were all he could think about was the pain and the grim phantasm as he lied in bed and could see those harsh memories of Father Louis and the director beating him and labeling him as a 'baster child' that deserved nothing less than hell itself just for merely existing. As the tears threatened to spill from the corners of David's eyes, he would yank them back up into his head and bury them there with the rest of his sorrows. David found solance in looking through nudey magazines- woman with plump breasts in their lingerie and their matching high heels, posing and flaunting their sexualized bodies with no shame in between the centerfolds. Lucy eventually found those magazines in David's desk drawer, but just put them back in their spot and kept silent about it.

David would be lying to himself if he didn't feel even just a twinge of guilt for hurting his wife. But his mind layed its focus somewhere else- too busy to even care.

Jack was born and a premature baby; one of the few babies to use an incubator until his official due date would come the month after and he would be ready to take home. Lucy spent her days in the hospital, monitering every inch of Jack's process, while David spent his days at the presinct trying to earn the money to pay off the bills of Lucy and Jack's hospital stay. Annoyed that Jack racked up too much money for David's convenice, David already felt this twinge towards his newborn son. David wanted to have this linking love towards his child, but was so consumed in his own sourness that it covered every inch of affection he could ever have towards anyone.

He would look into Jack's eyes and see that they shared the same green ones and that he had his frown when he was provoked. He also saw that Jack had his temper- a bright blazing one, except with ambition.... not unleashed bitterness. Jack wasn't a force to be reckoned with like his father- he was a genuinely kindhearted person who had a strong adhere to right and wrong. Jack didn't take well to being seen as just an item that people store on pretty shelves to fit their prettiness. Jack saw himself as a strong human being- not an obtained piece of a puzzle that connected his mother and father's dry happiness with their status at being the typical blue collar family.

David didn't have a hate towards children- he could find them endearing at times. But he didn't exactly take any pleasure in being a father. If he did, it probably would've disgusted Jack even more. Jack was a wild card to say the least at sometimes.

Like gasoline and fire, David and Jack could blow a whole city down. To David, Jack was supposed to be seen and not heard, he was in subject comepletly to his parents- especially his father, and he was to be happy with whatever was given to him. Jack followed different rules: he would talk back, fight back and he had no problem putting David in his place. David could stare over the top of Jack's head, but it didn't stop the youngin from staring his father down in the heat of the moment. Jack- even at a tender immature age- was unafraid. He wasn't scared and he didn't like to hide from David all the time. 

Jack thought whenever David lost his temper at Jack because of his own mistakes, it was because he took- whatever little thing- Jack would do as a sign of disrespect. David however, was disturbed by his son's stubborness. A somber reflection of all his broken pieces; carefully crafted into a more dominant version of what he hadn't been himself. Jack was never one to take a fight lying down and made his loud roar prominant around the city. This became fuel for David; competing to be the alpha male and take control over his repressed nightmares. They had all spiraled into his little boy and they were gnawing at him in every corner with every fight the two had. David became even angrier-  more sour and hungrier for power. He would hurt Jack- smack him, shove him, burn him, punch him, whip him, beat him.... and Jack would fight back. He was smarter than David- fiestier, he could get more angrier and Jack could use his wits to up his own hand in the matter. He wasn't like Lucy.... and he really wasn't much like David.

He was better than the both of them.... something that ate into David everytime he looked at Jack. David still held this image of manliness and what manhood really was and he would pound onto himself and onto Jack. If he were to prove to himself that was as strong as what he wanted to be, then Jack would have to pay the price for challanging that notion in the first place. But not once did it really Jack the way it was intended.

Jack grew up with the same firery spirit. He overcame his struggles and held his head above water the whole time until the day he left New York for good. David remembered when Jack had given him hugs and kisses and had tried to be a good son in the midst of needing to survive. Jack never let affection or compassion dissapate from his body or mind. He could be happy and he could dream happy thoughts and make those thoughts his reality. Jack could be better than David.... and he was. Even as a small child... he always was. And deep down, in the wake of the hurricane that swirled around David like a rapid ache.... he was proud. 

Those empty nest years when Jack was gone and long forgotten David and Lucy still sheltered in the same old worn in home, David would still think about Jack. And he would always regret not hugging him back the last time he was in the house. He regreted being weak and letting his inner demons win and push him as far away from his child as he could go.

He hated himself for being what he was running away from. Inside, David was still somewhere in that orphanage and somewhere in between those bleachers. David was never really here.... he never came back from the hell he didn't want to take himself out of. David could only feel the abroad pride of Jack not being who he was and he would have to live with those sour pains for the rest of his life. David was never meant to be a father; something he understood a little too late. Jack was gone and he had no interest or love for David anymore. But David still loved Jack. He still wanted him to be okay- to live life to the upmost fullest he possibly could. 

And that was the best he could want for his son. And David died with that wish. Something that was perfectly hidden underneath the bitter webs of his anger. There was love. It was buried down.... but it existed... even if Jack chose not to accept it.... it was still there. And it always was.

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

David wanted to win those battles- he didn't win. Jack understood that. Closing up the books, taking the pamphlet and crumbling it up into his pocket, Jack walked out of the library- the cold slapping his face, but it was just numb to Jack who was still in deep thought from what he figured out about David. 

A shell of a man. Broken at every seam of himself till he collasped into a suken gritty state of hate- for those around him and mostly himself. David couldn't crawl out of the fire himself and Jack watched him engulf in the flames. It made him feel some pity for him; a drunk type vunrability that lanced Jack when he wanted to keep a tight grip on his bitter feelings towards the man he didn't think he could ever know. A pain that was so hidden yet exposed at its ugliest light. Jack stumbled into his car and felt this sense of jadedness befall over him. Glancing from around the spaces of his car, he drove away from the library. He didn't want to go back to his hotel yet... he wanted to breathe. He needed Alice on the other end to tell him it would be okay and that he got what he wanted.

Jack felt this tight pinch in his stomach. His father- an embittered man from drab experience- found no peace in life. No happiness. A moment worth living for and one to cherish for his days around the sun. Jack had thought he mended his broken pieces together one by one... and for awile, they were glued. But still frail.... frail like David. Jack wasn't the same man of course of David.... but he carried a similar piece. One that he couldn't let go of. David has guard that he needed at all times; scanning every room for its hidden shadows or black figures that liked to haunt him with every thought. Never could spare himself any more grief and instead became accustomed to it; he begin to see pain as a companion... not an enemy.

Jack carried a piece of the same fear. Not able to let go of the past and it became his future. It became....Roger.

David couldn't learn to live to be happy.... Jack couldn't learn to live without Roger. Two broken souls that couldn't lift their own wings and fly away for their own sake. Barricading themselves in anything to keep control over their losses. Both knew that the minute they let go... they would only have themselves to face at the end of the day.... and it would depend as to what they saw, that would determine their inner strength. 

Driving through the streets, Jack saw that the sun was blooming out again. That snow was starting to became water and the streets were becoming drier and less squeaky. Jack took in a deep breath before he decided to return to the same park he onced parked at to eat his breakfast.

Arriving there, Jack turned off the ignition and just sat back in his seat. He was so sure he had it all figured out. He was supposed to be free from David- him not even existing in Jack's new life with his own family. But now he could see it; it still lived inside of San Deigo- inside of Alice, Susan and Roger. Jack had hurt Alice... he hurt Susan.... but he nearly destroyed his love with Roger. 

An overbearing force of neediness and clinging onto the this facade of just him and his little boy against the world. That facade had now dimmed and turned into Roger against his own father. How distant he was now- barely letting Jack in and not even wanting to breathe the same air he did. Jack couldn't pretend that it didn't kill him everytime he thought about it. Jack cried himself to sleep that night Roger disconnected his number from their line. Jack spent a whole month in a bog of depression- so bogged into his own that Alice seemed to slip right past him with her own sadness that she couldn't even understand. Jack never hit Roger, he never drank himself into anger towards him- even when Roger did some very teeth clentching things- he never called Roger out of his name and he gave him all the affection a boy could want. But he still crippled him. 

He held on so tight to needing to be this little boy's life saver, that he let the very thing happen that he was petrified of: losing him. Roger walked out of Jack's life and slammed the door in his face as he disappeared out that door. Jack became another version of his own pain and ultimately bleed it over onto someone he loved with every fiber of his being. And it all started with himself....

When Jack left his parent's home that day, he wasn't whole. He was only smart enough to know what he deserved and what should've happened... but he wasn't strong enough to give it to himself; be his own boulder or shoulder to cry on. Jack couldn't lift the weight himself. He just buried his head in studies and in his happy imagination, but the reality he would have to tear down brick by brick. But he just couldn't. Jack needed to see someone who could help him- who would help him. Someone who could fuel his stated ambition and give him a pat on the back and boost on the shoulders. Jack made choices from his pain.... not his power. He walked from city to city, milestone to milestone still carrying the weight of those nightmares- a constant need to rebel against everything that pushed him back down.

Jack was still that same little boy getting slapped for no reason. He was still somewhere in his old bedroom, stuffing Little Debbies into his mouth with cold milk to soothe his pains from that day. And whenever he looked into Roger's eyes... that same little boy was somewhere inside there. And Jack still needed to self soothe... not heal... just soothe. He never healed and the pain was still there.

Underneath all the layers of his ambition and his success.... there was pain. 

For the first time, Jack just let himself weep for his pain... for himself. He buried his face into his palms and let out a roaring scream before he sobbed quietly into his hands for a long time.

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

He didn't know where he was going. He was driving along to the road- radio silent and the only the sound the car could be heard. The clouds became darker as the weather became warmer. Jack had a picture in mind to where he was headed... but he still kept himself on the fence for if he decided he would go this far for what he pictured.

Pulling into yard, it read: Green Hollow- Norforlk cemetary. Jack took a deep breath and parked the car close to the exit. Sighing, Jack looked straight ahead and carefully undid his seatbelt and collected the keys as he unlocked the car door and emerged out of the car.

His loafers crunched under the wisp dry snow of the graveyard. Jack felt the fuzzy patch at the back of his neck burn with the little hairs there standing. His stomach swirled- aching for a moment before releasing the pent up irk inside of it out. Jack's eyes scanned David's tombstone carefully. Graveyards were always creepy... but this feeling was something even tenser than that. Somehow, he wanted to picture David standing there right in front of him- the same green eyes and jaded frown that obscured his features would stare back into Jack's and he would be scanning him up and down, wondering what crossed Jack's mind this time.

"Hey Dad.... " he started. "It's been.... awhile..." Jack swallowed. His mind drifting into the fact that he was now the same age his father was while Jack was raising his children. The thought pinched something deep in Jack, but he shook it off to focus on what he needed to say.

"I could never understand.... why you were the way you were. I just.... didn't get why you had to be so angry and violent... hopelessly violent- beating me, beating mom.... just... unhappy. And then, I saw your life. I saw everything that you suffered.... and you never let yourself speak it. And for a moment... I could understand..... because I knew exactly how it felt to feel.... weak. Weakness would be surrendering and... that's what we've been conditioned to believe and feel. And I'm so sorry.... with the cards life dealt to you. No one deserves to be hurt... no one deserves what happened to you.. and it took a lot of guts to carry that for so long... must've been." Jack started.

"But... I'm here because of what you put me through. You couldn't even understand the monster you were to me. You got drunk, you yelled, you hit, you called me horrible names... you did some very disgusting and awful things. You were not a good father..... you were not a good person. You let yourself become this bitter, dried up disappointment, that only hurt people. And while New York praises you for what you did for them, I'll never forget the person you were to me. For years... I have carried the weight of your abuse. And it made me become afraid- I was horrified I would become like you... and in the rush of trying not to be... I became my own problem to my children.... to my son. And there's not a day that goes by where I don't regret what I've done. And I don't know if I'll ever get it back- but I know where the root of it came from. 

I wasn't loved by you. And even though, you can say 'you love me'.... it wouldn't be enough. While I can understand the pain and hurt you went through, when you start hurting others, then you're pain is no longer yours.... it becomes someome else's. And it became mine. I still have the bad dreams about you standing over my bed with this evil grin, I still tiptoe across my hallway because I was afraid to wake you while you were sleeping.... I still restock my knife drawer every spring.... because I fear you grabbing me again in my sleep. I hate you for what you were. And I hated being your son. I hate myself for crying in the middle of the night because of you.... and I hate how at my lowest moments... I would think about sitting in the closed garage with the engine running." A single tear fell from Jack's cheek.

"But... if I blame you for all my pain.... then I have no choice but to thank you for my success too. And I loved being a father.... I love my kids. I love my wife. And because I love them.... I can be thankful for the memories... the memories of what not to be to them, because they deserved better. And...... so did I. And that's where it is.... I wanted to be loved. I wanted a good Mom and Dad, who would fill those cups of what I needed the most. The years I spent learning how to be strong for myself- to love myself.... will never replace the love I could've had from the two people who were the most important to me. With love- a good rooted, deep love... comes this freedom. The freedom of acceptance, of hope, of happiness, security.... possiblites. You can do anything with a deep love. Because you can trust that person.... no matter what they do... no matter what they say... your heart is still and will always be safe with them. And there is a safety in wanting to be happy.... and the people who love you the most are going to make sure.... that they make you happy. And my wife and children, do that for me every day..."

Jack sucked in a shaky breath. "I know... it's going to take me the rest of my life to forgive you- if I ever do. But what I will do.... is let this go. I'm going to set myself free from this once and for all, Dad. You're not going to hurt me anymore.... and I'm going to have the guts to do what you should've done. I'm going to forgive you.... because I want to be happy." 

Jack took one last final good look at David's grave, face settling into one of calm reassurance and peace. Then he walked away, letting the soggy dirty snow flake from the very soles of his shoes, shift back onto the empty dark grave of David.

Jack settled back into the car and decided he'd take the long way back to the hotel.

He drove down the road, the rain had started to peck the windows before they freely falled and panged the windshield ever other second. A secondwind overcame him and his spirit made him want to jump on top of the car and cheer with glee that there were better days ahead. Jack could start over this time. He could make things right. The streets were empty- cars that passed him by would be in rare summits where their flashlights would flash and flicker against the rain stained glass. The rain beated down harder and the wipers had a harder time keeping the entering drops from off either side of the arch they made with their arms.

The rain became more that just little teardrops dripping down from the foggy sky. So much so that Jack needed to pull the car over to the side of the road and wait it out. Jack watched every little drop ping the windows, until something in him moved him from out of the car and he let the rain splash over his head- wetting his hair and soaking his skin and his clothes. Jack danced in the wind of the rain and let it drizzle all over him. 

His clothes were damp and wet- rain still dripping off the edges and water spraying the inside of Jack's mouth. An empty road ahead and behind him as he jumped for glory like a slave with broken chains. Jack.... was free. A free man with a new beginning ahead of him. A new understanding of what had hurt his core the most and he had ripped it out of him, ready to heal his tender wounds of the past.

Jack danced all around the car- his hair dripping and staining his vision as he jumped as high as he could in the middle of the empty street. No one was around to see him dancing like a fool from pure bliss of feeling the earnest keen. Jack came back into his car, shaking his hair from the rain and smiling to himself as started the car again. The rain slowed as Jack made his way through the different roads. Damp and cold still, Jack didn't care. Making his way back to the hotel, he packed up his suitcase that evening after a warm shower and a fresh change of clothes and dropped his rental car off in exchange for a greyhound ticket.

On the bus, Jack stared out at the passing city. The little town of Virginia would forever hide David's most despondent secrets. Jack let his head rest against the bottom rim of the window and let the sound of his small breathes echo his little space in the bus. Only three other people sat on the bus and Jack found solace in this. A private space for him to think about what his mind needed to flush out first. 

Jack needed to take care of himself; a therapist would help Jack and so would a better footing in his relationships. Jack knew what he was going to do way before he bothered to think it out on the bus. San Deigo would be his last stop.... Seattle would be his first.

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

Seattle was rainy. With the address in the pocket of his suit jacket, Jack felt this tight grip of hope knead itself inside him. His heart felt lumpy and squishy and his lungs felt smaller than his body. Tight little breaths puffed in and out, like a lung crushing belt was wrapped around him. Jack leaned his body up against the door of the car- cheek pressed against the cool window. The tall alpine buildings reminded Jack of New York. How busy the streets were, how the cars zipped past like speeding bullets or how on weekdays, the men wore thick trench coats over their office suits or how the women clicked up and down the sidewalks with their chunky or skinny heels and hot red lips with big dangling earrings. The sounds of pagers beeped and the hiss of the steamy buses settled through the streets of the city.

Jack really begin to see himself in Roger. How much he preferred the big life- big dreams over small hopes that could be buried in the dust of California. Jack remembered how high his own dreams were at Roger's age. California held them- the golden life of a family- the family that he wanted. They were all set in the city of San Diego; fleeing from the city that reminded him of his own pain- his own past that he didn't want to become a part of, Jack began to understand what Seattle held for Roger. It tugged something inside of him, a broken piece that was already cracked. But it was swollen- tender and beaming with layers of hidden heartache that were trapped through the thick peels that Jack would cover them with.

Roger's apartment came into view. Abode Lofts. An elite apartment- one of Seattle's finest, Jack read a while ago.

The big gleaming high rise that brimmed its sheeny glow even from a block away. Jack knew how pricey the place was. The big thick shrubs flowing over the silver buckets parked on each side of the front door. Its parking deck parked towards the back- its ramp built into the side street. The walls were straight glass- a blue glossy hue over each window as they stood higher and higher up to the top. Jack stared up at the windows, wondering which one was Roger's apartment. A modern design- front terraces and back terraces on every apartment level, for every tenant.

Jack left the taxi, paid his tab before walking down the sidewalk into the apartment. A chapfallen glower fell on top of Jack's shoulders. Heavy breaths seemed to collaspe with every little step he made towards the front desk. The lady- drapped in every makeup there was- lipstick, eyeshadow, blush, eyeliner- thick and underlined over- and fake eyelashes that had to blink twice to even make out Jack's face a little. "Hello miss, I was looking for a Roger Chambers's apartment?"

The lady typed something in the computer. "It's apartment 23 E on the thirteenth floor." 

"Thank you." Jack felt his heartbeat in his stomach the more he stepped closer to the elevator. Legs felt paralyzed, yet still took into the little small box headed up to Rogers's floor. Jack scanned the elevator buttons. How they rose from level one to level sixty. Jack's eyes wanted to pop out from his head in complete marvel, amazed at how high this building really went. As the buttons slowly rose from one level to another, Jack's heart pounded louder through his chest. He could feel his heart inside of his palm, like he was holding it right in front of him. His mind shuffled through the rights words- what he would say to Roger, what he would do for Roger to make it up to him for all these years wasted by his own petty behaviour. 

Thinking about it made Jack's skin spike with goosbumps. A burning feeling sizzled inside of his body, forcing a cool sweat from his forehead. As the doors opened, the fresh smell of clean carpet is what Jack was met with first. Carefully stepping off, he looked at each door, scanning where Roger's could be. 21 E, 22 E, 24 E...23 E. 

Taking a deep breath, Jack reached his hand out, curled a fist and knocked on the door. Jack heard shuffling inside the apartment. Roger's feet stopped in front of the door, looking through the peephole, Jack assumed. He heard a deep breath sound from the door. "Dad?" Roger opened the door only halfway with the chain lock holding it in place. "Dad... what are doing here?"

"Uh... well, I came to see you."

Roger furrowed his eyebrows. "How did you find out where I lived?"

"Roger, can I come in?" Roger just stared at Jack, not budging from the door. "How did you find my apartment?" His voice with more sterness to it. Jack furrowed his eyebrows.

"Roger...." He sighed. "I looked it up, because I wanted to talk to you."

Roger thought for a minute. "Give me a second," Closing the door and unlocking the chain, Roger invited Jack inside. Jack could only awe at Roger's place. Two levels like a full house, big kitchen with a silver fridge, stove and dishwasher. Living room so big, that classy greek white pillars stood on each side of the front door with little podiums built under them. A picture window with a window seat in the back of the living room and a hidden little hallway towards the left where the terrace must've hid as well. That's when Jack spotted the large glass tank where different colored little fishes swam around and another tall glass tank that stood vertical for Stone, the iguana. The couch was this fine leather- textured and treated for protection against rips or scrapes from the cold weather or the friction of clothes or even light bodies.

The whole living room was this mellow light blue color with this classy modern theme to it. Jack felt a sense of familiarity from the last time he was in Roger's apartment. How much his style represented his own space. His own little planet that he lived on- away from Alice, from Susan, from Sean.... from Jack. The one person who was so close to him, they were like twins. Hearts connecting to each other like they were meant to sync. The other half to Jack that swam through his very bones- that was from his very seed and became a part of him like the amber stars became one with the sky. Those deep green eyes Jack would look into every night before bed with his very own. How the first touch was something so natural, like they had bonded with each other before Roger even existed. In a dream, Jack would think of not the perfect little boy that he could share his fatherly wisdom with... but a friend, who could understand some of the deepest depths of himself. Who would inspire him every day to be that one of a kind person he always wanted to be. And his wish came true the first time he pressed his lips against the damp and soggy head of a gooey little newborn born right in the mist of a June summer filled with fresh watermelon and honey bees.

It was just that somewhere along those tight knit lines, Jack's pain formed into a little bubble of its own- following him around like an ugly shadow and morphing him into the overbearing rootless pest, that had to take control for himself. Shattering the very brims of the person he loved the most. That he understood the most. That understood him the most. Except, Roger handled himself. He walked away and challenged the pain. Festering and emptying it into a better life; Dreams that Roger took ahold of and made happen for the sake of himself. He understood the cores of his pain and wasn't afraid to look it straight into its face and stare it down with his rooted confidence. Roger.... set the Chambers's home on fire. Only running away from the flames after dancing in the ashes and shaking them off on the front lawn, and settling to the opposite country. His first move as a youngin moving out for the first time. And he didn't need Jack. He didn't need anyone that would hold him back from his life. Including himself. 

Roger got into therapy and made the change before, having a sloppy one night stand with a stranger, or getting drunk in the middle of the night... or blaming Jack for his deepest pain of a close bond being thrown right into the blazing fire of the home that was already burning. Roger moved on.... even when Jack couldn't. Roger burned it all down with just one match.... and built it back up, brand spanking new for himself and for everything in his future that wanted him.... that would need him. Without looking back, Roger set himself free and ran arms wide into the life that had been waiting for him. And Jack was left to look back and wonder what he should've done. Maybe when he was Roger's father... maybe when he was Roger's age.

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

Roger invited Jack on the couch, while he went into the kitchen and made them both a glass of iced tea. "Lemon or without lemon?"

"Uh, without." Roger set the drinks down on the coffee table before sitting next to Jack. "So... what did you want to talk about?"

Jack turned to Roger. A sympathic little smile spread across his face, before dropping. "I... I wanted to first just apologize to you, Roger." Roger raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For... the last conversation we had.... a few years ago." Roger stiffened. "Oh, yeah.... that one."

"I shouldn't have said those things to you or spoken to you like that. Truth is- you're a very mature, kind, sweet, generous and smart young man. And you deserved more respect." Roger kept quiet but just stared.

"When I said those things- on the phone- I was already feeling very....." Jack took a deep breath. "Very... afraid. When you and me were just a little bit younger... we had a very close relationship. Very tight knit and.... I started to grieve that relationship when you started getting older."

"Why?" Roger's voice, steady but shaky. "Why did you get so freaked out about me growing up? All I wanted was to be independent.... and it broke me when all my efforts- all Mom's efforts were undermimed with you trying to control everything! You couldn't let me drive, you couldn't let me go out by myself, you had to always have control over me and what made me happy... everything that built me up and you would demolish because you just didn't want it to happen! Do you know how much it hurt me when you would do those things! I wanted to grow up.... and leaving you... somehow.. gave me back myself. I felt better about myself... I felt like a man.... a real man. And I knew I deserved it. I became a writer- something I always wanted to be- I moved into a beautiful apartment, I have my own life... I travled... I lived. And I continued living and I didn't let that pain of everything.... everything that hurt me... stand in my way, Dad. It may have taken moving down to a different city... but at least I can say... maybe even just a bit... that I'm okay."

Jack's eyes brimmed with tears. Roger's did too; pain that was still settled inside him finally emploded in the face of the man responsible for it. And now Jack would have to face his own. "Roger.... I know how wrong I was. I know I don't deserve a relationship with you after everything I did, and I'm not here to justify that. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for doing that to you, to your mother, your sister.... to the family."

Jack walked around the living room, pacing the floors like he always did when he needed to make a serious point. And Roger knew that. So, he just sat down on the couch and listened quietly to everything Jack needed to say.

"When I was.... when you were- no..." Jack sighed. Taking a deep breath, he let his heart do the talking for once.

"I didn't have a good childhood... or one at all if you can say. Your grandfather, David.... was horrifically abusive- physically, mentally, emotionally.... it was a nightmare. And I'm not using that as an excuse to say that 'I did what I did because' as a means to make it go away. But you do need to understand. I was beaten, slapped, kicked- sometimes in the privates- and... I had no one to defend me. Lucy, your grandmother, had problems upon problems and she was so adamant of staying with Grandpa because of how she thought a woman should be or whatever, that it interrupted her love for me. I felt like an orphan. And everything that happened to me still rings in the back of my head even to this day. And that pain... the embarrassment- still lives inside of me and it's very real. So, when I was twenty years old, I moved out and found my own apartment. And I had to work very hard to get that. But... what I thought about the most- growing up and even in my early adulthood- was about being happy. Having a family, having life goals and dreams that I wanted to accomplish. And that made me feel good and I thought I was okay. So fast forward, I got married to your mother, and then we had Susan and then you. And... I had always secretly wanted a little boy, because I didn't get affection from David, the way I was supposed to...the way I wanted to. Having a son, would fix that. It would fix it, because I could be his father and we wouldn't have those problems.

I wanted to be the type of parent that would give endless hugs and kisses, endless time on Daddy's lap and bedtime stories and cookies galore! And it was exactly like that....and I begin to see myself in you, Roger. In fact... I always have- since the day you were born. And even though you weren't.... you just felt... like you were broken in the way of needing so much attention. So, I made it my mission to be that person for you that you could lean on and just... have a deep connection with. And I thought that by doing that.... I would heal some of the pain that I felt in me still as a child. Then you started growing.... and you didn't need me as much anymore. So... I panicked- I was losing control over our relationship- over the closeness that we had... and.... I did some... really awful things. I overprotected you and tried to keep you from growing up...because then... maybe you would leave and I would be tossed aside and one of the most important people to me, would leave me and then I would lose a big part of myself. Being a father made me feel good about myself because.... I was still hurting. You shaped the way I saw fatherhood, Roger. But my biggest regret is, instead of handling my own insecurities and pain first.... I passed it on to someone who I loved the most. You gave me another chance- that phone call we had just before your birthday.... and I blew it. You didn't run away from home.... I kicked you out. And for that... I'll never forgive myself." Jack looked into Roger's eyes.

"I deserved to be cut off. And because of that... it made me realize.... just how broken I really was." He sniffled. "I did what I wanted to do..... and it paid a terrible price. You're a very strong man, son. You're stronger than me in many ways and.... I am so proud of you. You make me proud every day... and that's never changed. Truth is... I always thought I'd be the one to break the cycle..... but the whole time.... it was actually you."

Roger met Jack's eyes finally. Tears streaming down them. "I love you, beyond what's possible, Roger. I only ask- humbly so- if you can one day, find it in your heart.... to forgive me even just a third of what barely exists for me." Jack licked his lips and started towards the door.

"Dad!" Jack turned around. "I never stopped loving you. Yes, I cut you and Mom off because I wanted to heal. But I never stopped loving you. And I never will." Roger held his arms open as Jack ran into them, sobbing thankfully into Roger's shoulder. "I'm sorry!" He sobbed. "I'm so sorry!" Muffled into Roger's neck, Roger cried into Jack's shoulder blade. He never wanted to admit that he missed Jack.... or that he secretly hoped he would one day be the person he wanted his father to be. 

Roger knew it would take some time- he didn't forgive Jack suddenly, and Jack could tell. But... it was a sure thing that was happening. And for that, Jack would always be grateful.

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

San Deigo was bright and beaming with sunny shadows. Jack felt a sense of mundane jolt through him as his coat would be simply inapproprate for the weather. He didn't know how much he missed sunny days until he came home. The taxi pulled up to the front door of his home and Jack felt something shift inside him. It didn't settle even after he unlocked the front door locked eyes with and empty living room. Alice was somewhere in the kitchen.

Jack stumbled into the house, like he was thoroughly intoxicated. Without a drop of alcohol touching his lips, Jack wanted to soberly face Alice. He needed to see into her lime eyes and face her. Jack could see the pain all over her face. He could sense her deep anguish deep inside her body. Her soft dainty frame, dolled up in a sunflower skirt, a figure hugging shirt and small silver heels. Underneath it all was this thick coat of deep resentment. Jack tried to pretend like he couldn't see it- it wasn't there right in front him. But it was. And Jack knew why it was there and why it festered so severely inside of Alice.

Alice didn't have the same haggered look she had when the children left home; mothers usually have that look from this sombering sense of empty nest. But Alice carried something else inside and around her. Her looks to Jack were stern and irked- especially when the topic of Roger came up. She would become especially irritated when Jack would come up with a list of excuses for his overparenting of their son. It singed in Alice and it sent this fiery gash of pain shooting from her head to toe. Alice thought her poker face to be professional. Jack saw otherwise through it everytime And deep down.... Alice knew. She wanted to flaunt her anger around like a new dress for Jack to see it. Jack saw how Alice went to bed with it, cooked with it, ran errands with it and sat around the house with it. Never taking it off- forcing Jack to look into it. Stare and bore deeply through the dress to see the deeply hidden sadness underneath all the blazing red fury she felt.

Jack made his way across the living room. Alice standing neatly at the kitchen island cleaning off the countertop. Eyes locked and so focused on the counter that she barely even made eye contact with Jack. "Hey Alice," He came closer and pressed a kiss to her neck, nearly make her pull away a bit. "Jack...." He bit the side of his lip. 

"On my way back home, I visited Roger's new apartment.... it's very nice." Alice looked over a bit, but still didn't make eye contact. "He let you go inside?" 

"Yeah... I wanted to- we talked." Alice stopped scrubbing the counters. "We had a very long talk..... because I apologized." Alice turned around and met Jack's eyes. "What did you say to him?"

"I told him that I made a mistake.... that I deserved for him to.... cut me off."

"Except when he did that, he no choice but to cut me off too, Jack." Jack stared at Alice. "I tried so hard to give Roger the independence he needed. I didn't want to be one of those parents who.... would cause so much to their child like that." Alice shook her head.

"But it wasn't enough... he left the way he did anyway because.... well... you, Jack. It was all your fault..." She broke, tears dripping down her shirt. 

"I kept telling you that he was a teenager- that kids deserved their freedom. Roger.... was a free spirit. He didn't want to be smothered and so I tired to make sure I didn't do that, Jack. It's been like this ever since he was a little boy- and you kept tighting and tightning the ropes because of this selfish obsession with trying to keep him with you like this china doll or something. And I told you- pleaded with you to stop and you wouldn't. He was struggling Jack.... and you just pushed him out of this house, out of our love- and then you invited yourself into his home and then embarrassed him in front of his peers. Do you get how traumatic that was for him? Do you not understand the common denominator?! Roger is not here, but in a different country because of you! What could you possibly say to him that would make him not feel the way I have felt about you for a long time, Jack Chambers!"

Jack stood back, eyes glossy staring back at his wife. Alice's eyes filled with tears, staining her eyes red. Sniffling back her tears, Alice turned away from Jack. " I thought things would be different. I would like to think.... I would really like to believe that because of everything you went through with your family.... you would want to create a better one here. And for awhile... it was. It was good. But you just couldn't stop, Jack..." Alice turned to Jack, eyes glistening.

"When Roger let you go..... I lost him too. And as much as I do believe you deserve it.... I still missed him. And there wasn't a day that went by where I didn't want him back."

Jack slouched a bit, eyes staring at tile in the kitchen floor and then to his wife's heels. "I know....." 

"Do you? Do you know how badly.... it hurt to see him broken. To feel his pain from not having what he wanted. It was never about you and that's exactly what you made it to be.... and now... he's not here. He has his own life... one where we simply... don't exist. So, tell me, Jack..... do you really know how that feels?"

 Jack thought for a second. "Yes." He looked up. "So... I went down to Seattle and I apologized to Roger and...." Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out Roger's phone number, written down on his business card. "When you're ready to talk... he's ready to listen."

Alice sobbed in her hands, letting Jack hug her tightly in his arms. "I'm so sorry, Alice.... I was selfish... I'm so sorry." Alice wept, but eventually embraced Jack in her arms. "It'll be okay.... we'll be okay.." She said. Jack looked into her eyes again. "We will?"

She nodded. "We will."

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

The appointment was today. Jack dressed in a neat dress shirt with gray slacks before he headed downstairs. "Hey honey," Alice greeted. 

"Hey," Jack pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, "I gotta get going now, but I'll call after the appointment." Jack grabbed his mug and let Alice pour in some coffee before he skidded out the door.

He wasn't too worried about making the appointment on time, but he didn't want to be late either. First impressions were everything. Pulling into the office, Jack took a deep breath and then walked inside. He took a seat in the sterile waiting room. It was comfortable, but still stern in it's address. Jack just thought that it was because of his first impression of the office. Everyone else seemed to be relaxed like they knew what to expect.

"Jack Chambers?" The receptionist called. Jack got up and followed her back into a hallway where several rooms were. Room 201 was his and as he made his way inside, a fresh pair of eyes turned around and introduced himself.

"Hello, I'm doctor Damien Reed, how are you today, Jack?"

"Good... it's my first time." 

Dr. Reed chuckled. "Therapy can be nerve wracking at first... but that's the hardest step there is. Making the choice that you need help is the hardest part... but this session will very easy, promise."

Jack smiled. "Thank you."

"Why don't we start with an introduction first? Why don't you start by telling me your name?"

Jack sighed and made eyes with Dr. Reed.

"Hi.....I'm Jack Chambers."

[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 💌

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[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 ❤️

[frankensteinmf]

⛓cigarettes out the window⛓RESIDENT EVIL FANFICTION 🕯 OCS AND CANON🕯

this is a one shot cause motivation left me for the bigger fan fic:,) enjoy this silly little fan fiction with silly little characters (and what i have noted down for Nikita/Laika) ﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ocs included: Nikita '' Laika '' Yokovic = my personal oc Jaiden + Jordan Manalang = @feng-shui71 Jackie Steele = @silna-pdf ﮩـﮩﮩ٨ـ🫀ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

as the smoke gently raised up to the night sky, the source: being Lieutenant Nikita Yokovic leaned against the Raccoon Police Department building.. he was deep in thought as the fumes burned his lungs.. his medications, way of forgetting those.. awful days.. he hasnt heard much from Umbrella, what happened? did it finally fall? why hasnt Spencer nor anyone given him an order or clue?.. why is Birkin even more a bastard then normal..? and Albert.. Albert Wesker.. whats up with him?-

his ears perked up: footsteps.. Nikita's head snapped to look at who or what walked up to him.. '' yikes so sis wasnt wrong on you being jumpy, lieutenant..'' Jaiden Manalang, one of the team alpha soldiers Nikita himself trained, approached Nikita with a chuckle. ''.. what do you need Jaiden..? did Jordan send you to get me?..'' Nikita scoffed... as he continued smoking. '' cant i check up on my own mentor? or are you still brooding like an pissed off bear?..'' Jaiden chuckled as he leaned next to Nikita. '' dont you have paperwork to tend to, Jaid?..'' Nikita turned to actually acknowledge and look at Jaiden. ''.. not that i know off..'' Jaiden chuckled slightly, making sure Nikita didnt catch up on his more nervous tone. ''.. thats it, i wont let you slack off. '' Nikita put his cigarette out (disappointingly) before dragging Jaiden by his arm back into the R.P.D, even if Jaiden is not happy about it.

Jordan looked out her desk window.. the cold beautiful night was a calming sight to those who desire it. she could feel her breathing calm down as she leaned against the glass panel... its been alot, her kids can be tiring, Albert has been acting off and.. distant.. doesnt help this week has been confusing with the cannibal murders that took place the day before.. whats so bad of lighting a blunt, to feel that effect hit her completely.. '' Jord's! '' Jordan was snapped out of her thoughts by Jackie's acknowledgement.. despite the weirdness and honestly disturbing crimes, the S.T.A.R.S were assigned to investigate, Jackie hasnt changed one bit.. Jordan appreciates that, atleast she hasnt been down or.. different. '''.. weren't you suppose to clock out an hour again Jackie?..'' Jordan asked with a chuckle. ''.. well Chief Irons asked if i could wait for the other bravo members.. us lucky bunch have to investigate the butched murders.'' Jackie sighed before chuckling. ''...great, sounds fun... '' Jordan replied sarcastically before her doubts hit her again.. why does she feel so bad about this? why is Nikita so paranoid and frankly concerned about them? why is Albert so distant and keep calling that one freak Birkin? whats going on? ''.. earth to Jordan?.. your having that thinking face again..'' Jackie sat across Jordan with a concerned look. ''.. is Al being all mysterious again? '' '' its not just him.. the L.T has also been acting off, i didnt know the guy could even be more paranoid then normal.. something isnt right..'' Jordan pointed out as she looked down at the ground. ''.. Jords..'' Jackie placed her hand on Jordan's shoulder. ''.. i understand where your coming from.. Brad had made a joke about it too.. but i'm sure those old fucks are just shaken up from the butched murders.. it'll be all okay. '' Jackie gave her an reassuring smile. Jordan sighed. ''.. alrighty Jacks.. lets get this over with..''

Nikita and Jaiden soon returned to the office.. meanwhile Team bravo is preparing to head to the forest. Rebecca Chambers, a young rook that Nikita has been training for the last few months headed to him. '' boss! there are you are.. are you joining us?..'' she asked politely with a smile. Billy stood by her side protectively. Nikita looked at Jaiden firmly. '' you better be done with your paperwork once i'm back. '' he said without any ways for Jaiden to complain before he headed to Rebecca and Jackie. Jordan chuckles, '' i'll make sure of that lieutenant. '' Jaiden looks pissed off but he kept it to himself. Nikita chuckles. '' i know Jords.. be safe you two, i'll be back before it hits midnight..'' little did Nikita know.. everything shall be changed for good.. ──── ୨୧ ──── THE END (i prob got the timeline wrong lol, i wanna make more fanfics once motivation is back lol).

[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.

[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]

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

[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!!

[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.

-

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