Chapter Text
Mark’s in trouble.
Was the text message Jack received 2 days after he watched Mark leave with his head hanging low and his words hanging heavy in the air.
He had taken yet another sick day off, unwilling to return to work when his blood ran hotter than the inside of his oven and his skin stayed covered in gooseflesh like he lived in the Antarctic.
At first Jack thought the message was simply a mistake, the phone number was unfamiliar and the message itself was vague enough it could be to anyone. Mark was a common name, he decided, there was nothing to worry about.
Therefore for the first half hour or so after he read it, he ignored it, forgot about it. Thankfully he managed to find a little bottle of slightly dodgy looking antibiotics gathering dust in the back of his kitchen cupboard that surprisingly did as promised on the bottle and cleaned his debilitating fever up rather nicely. Honestly he was feeling quite good about the day. Until, that is, he got another message.
Jack, you need to help him.
Jack’s intake of breath was sharp as he read the message. No mistake then, it was Mark Fischbach once again muscling his way into Jack’s life through SMS messenger. Fantastic. Nothing at all ominous or shady about these anonymous and purposefully uninformative messages; obviously he should trust the sender wholeheartedly and do whatever they asked without question.
Or, you know, not.
His phone buzzed again a second later. It was an address, a place about a 15-20 minute walk away from Jack’s apartment in a part of the city Jack was far from familiar with. Jack let out a low breath as he studied the message before typing a reply. Honestly, one anonymous text messenger in his life had been more than enough without adding another into the mix.
I don’t know you. I’m not going anywhere, sorry to disappoint.
Not two seconds later Jack’s phone buzzed with an answer.
And he said you liked the mysterious types. It’s Olivia Crawford, McLoughlin. Mark's friend. Now get over here right now or so help me I’m throwing him out a window.
Jack felt his stomach drop a little at the name, his stomach starting to fill to the brim with dread. Olivia Crawford. She was close to Mark, he knew that, but Mark had never specified how close exactly.
He didn’t have a girlfriend and she said they were friends but were they perhaps friends-with-benefits? An occasional fling? Fuck buddies? Jack wasn’t sure if it was an intrusion of privacy to ask and he also wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know the answer.
Still, that didn’t matter now.
Right now he was too busy tugging on his jacket and barrelling out his front door with more vigour than necessary, quickly walking down the street as fast as he could, wondering if the Upper West Side was renowned for daylight muggings or not.
There was no evidence of the snow that had once covered the dirty sidewalks and brooding grey buildings in a carpet of white. There wasn’t even a hint of wind, only a cloudy sky that held the promise of a downpour later, though of snow or hail or rain Jack didn’t know. That was another reason Jack hated winter. It made everything so unpredictable.
The Irishman kept an eye on the signs he passed, still not familiar with the twists and turns of the city streets. He made sure to double check the address on his phone, worried he might walk straight past his destination.
The walk was a long one though, and it gave him time enough to work himself into quite the state, the debate over whether or not he should turn around instead of walking directly into what could be a serial killer’s trap ready to be sprung waging war through his head. The only reason he hadn’t convinced himself to turn around completely was the knowledge that Mark needed help. Needed Jack right now. And despite any fears he had about the circumstances, Jack always found himself coming back to that.
He couldn’t leave Mark alone, not with things the way they were. Jack had to figure out how to explain himself; he wanted to find the best way to tell Mark anything other than the truth without lying straight to his face.
Easier said than done of course.
Around 5 minutes after he came to this conclusion Jack found himself looking up at a rather ordinary looking apartment complex, the outer walls painted an almost obnoxious shade of red and the rectangular windows looking clean and undamaged, which was admittedly more than Jack’s own apartment could brag about.
He strode to the door and pressed the button beside the number ‘14’, surprised when a quiet buzzer sounded almost instantly and the lock on the door clicked open. After a considerable stair climb Jack stood outside apartment 14, his face flushed from exertion and his brain going into overdrive at the mere thought of knocking.
As it so happened he needn’t have worried, the door opened inwards all by itself to reveal the beautiful woman he’d only ever witnessed in pictures, dressed in a classy burgundy dress with intricate black lace decorating her bodice. Her hair was styled to perfection, tumbling over shoulder in smooth brown waves and in her hand she held a small black clutch bag to compliment her outfit.
When she laid eyes on Jack, Olivia Crawford’s face broke into a wide smile, a smile Jack wasn’t entirely sure he liked. Something he couldn’t quite place about the dark red lipstick that she’d smeared across her lips standing out against her pale skin unnerved him. She was about his height in her high heels, probably an inch or two shorter without them, but even so Jack couldn’t help but feel dwarfed by such intimidating beauty. He’d never before felt so out of place in his worn out jeans, hoodie and trainers, than he did standing next to an Olivia Crawford ready for the red carpet.
Olivia’s blue eyes bored into his own, her eye makeup dark to match the rest of her outfit. “So, you’re Jack, huh?” She mused aloud, unashamedly taking her sweet time giving him a once over and Jack struggled not to shift under her unwavering gaze. Her Scottish accent didn’t quite match the star-studded image, a little too broad and a little too unpolished. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
It took Jack a second to remember how words worked. “I could say the same about you.” He finally managed with a weak smile.
She rolled her eyes. “All good things I’m sure.” Her tone was sarcastic and her body language suddenly relaxed as she leaned casually against the doorway.
Jack suddenly felt far more at ease than before, the intimidating edge to the woman’s beauty melting away to reveal the small town kind of girl Jack remembered being friends with back in secondary school. Hell, she looked so damn young she might just be in secondary school. Or high school, whatever. How old was she again?
“Well are you coming in? I’m not gonna wait all day.” Olivia teased and Jack took her invitation, walking through the door without a word. Inside the apartment he noted it was considerably larger than his own, the extra space giving the place an airy feel and the furniture full of leather and glass, modern curves and clean cut angles. Wide windows looked out onto the buildings on the opposite side of the street, the promised rain thudding dully against the glass in a sporadic rhythm.
It was far from what he expected from Mark, but then, when had Mark ever been predictable?
Actually, on that note. “Where’s Mark? I think you mentioned in your nice and cryptic messages that he was in trouble of some kind?” Jack inquired, keeping his tone polite as he watched Olivia strut her way into the kitchen to open the fridge. A second later she reappeared with two bottles of beer and a bottle opener, closing the fridge with her hip and gesturing Jack over to a comfortable looking brown couch.
“Don’t look so worried, Romeo, he’s just up in the apartment above. When I said trouble I wasn’t kidding but you can help with that later. Before that, I wanted to meet you, talk to you; make sure things are crystal clear, y’know?” She said calmly, sitting down on the couch next to Jack and handing him one of the opened beers before taking a sip of her own.
“And what would you like to talk about?” Jack asked quietly, holding the bottle in his hands but not drinking just yet, simply watching, waiting for her reply.
She paused to swallow her drink before leaning forward and setting her bottle on the coffee table, sitting back in her seat. Jack noticed she was wearing a necklace, a delicate silver cross dangling from her pale throat. “We don’t have much time, Jack, so I’ll get straight to the point. We both know Mark has quite the reputation for his drinking habits, yeah? Well, he’s been more sober in these past two months than he’s been in the past two years and funnily enough that was around the time I started hearing about you. Jack said this, Jack said that, yada yada you get the idea. He didn’t stop, but he was...better.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Jack muttered truthfully, but looked up to see Olivia’s expression suddenly dead serious.
“Honestly Jack, I don’t care what you did or didn’t do. What I care about is why two days ago Mark had the biggest relapse I’ve ever seen.” Olivia took a drink of her beer, her eyes never leaving Jack’s face. “Now I’m just going to go ahead and assume that you had something to do with it. And in that case, you’re going to go up there and do or say whatever the fuck you have to to fix it. I want to make it clear that if you dare put him in a position like this again, I'll make you wish you were ever born.” She smiled at him when she finished her speech, though the glare in her eyes was positively glacial.
The Irishman glared her down, his entire body filled with tension. “Was that a threat?”
“No.” She answered, her smile widening dangerously. “It was a promise.”
Jack met her gaze evenly even though he knew she had every intention of carrying out such a promise. “I’ll do what I can.” He bit out, his voice filled with hard determination that hadn’t been there before. The threat wasn’t necessary. He wanted to help Mark, in fact he needed to. This was all his fault. If it weren’t for his ridiculous games maybe then they would be together right now, enjoying a date somewhere off in the city; happy in each other’s company. It hardly mattered now of course. That fantasy wouldn’t ever come into fruition. Even if he did have to deal with an overprotective loved one regardless.
Olivia gracefully got to her feet, her smile widening as Jack followed her to the door, leaving his untouched drink abandoned on the coffee table.
“In that case Mr Mc Loughlin, you’d better run up to him, your damsel awaits.” She said cheerily, checking her watch before fixing her hair a little, brushing stray strands out of her eyes, all tension forgotten. “I’d better leave or I’ll be late.”
Jack nodded at her as he passed, barely reaching the stair landing before Olivia unexpectedly called his name. Jack turned just in time to catch an object about the size of a matchbox flying directly towards his face, nearly dropping it in his surprise.
He shot Olivia an affronted look that made her laugh softly, one styled eyebrow arched expectantly. “You’ll be needin’ those.” She shrugged without further explanation. Jack frowned, looking down at the small box in his hands.
It was a packet of cigarettes.
Jack looked up at Olivia again, this time with a confused expression. “I don’t smoke.”
Olivia grinned at him, beginning to walk away in the opposite direction. “Yeah, me neither.”