Chapter Text
“Listener discretion is advised,” Jack mouths the last part along with the narrator, much to Ben’s chagrin.
Look, Jack gets it. Riling up management is usually the last thing you want to do as a producer. But he knows that getting the truth out there is more important than “playing house”, as Lily had once put it. Not to mention that this has been on Sammy’s bucket list since forever, and yet it’s Jack of all people who beat him to it. He knows Sammy would be stuck between proud and jealous if he knew.
All that said, he can’t help it if he’s smiling a little as the intro finishes playing. “Good evening ladies and gents and everyone else, you’re listening to King Falls AM, 660 on the dial,” He says, the words easy as breathing already. “I’m Jack Wright, your host and producer number one, and I’m here with my number two, Ben Arnold.”
“I never agreed to that ranking,” Ben says, apparently determined to be annoyed by everything Jack does tonight.
“Look, at worst I’m calling you my right-hand man, but I meant it more like a Thing One and Thing Two from Dr. Seuss situation,” He explains. That seems to throw Ben for a loop and Jack grins, because the sooner he can redirect Ben’s annoyance, the better. “Though, I guess we don’t really look anything alike. But if you want to do a Station Twin Day that’d be-”
“Alright, that’s enough of that!” Ben interrupts, flapping his hand in Jack’s direction. “We get it - you’re a child.”
“I’ll buy a flannel that matches one of yours, don’t try me,” He warns. Ben wears the same four in rotation, interspersed with the occasional faded summer camp or band tee, so it wouldn’t even be hard to ‘accidentally’ match on any given day. Jack noticed this some time ago, and he takes a brief moment to reflect on how his gaydar is shit if he failed to pick up on things like that.
“We’re a radio show! What’s even the point of that?”
“Twitter selfies.”
“Ugh. I give up on you,” Ben sighs. “Just-just let me read the schedule so we can actually get started.”
“Fine, fine. What was it you called it earlier? ‘Stacked’?” Jack quotes and, right on cue, Ben breaks into a beaming smile.
“Totally stacked,” He agrees, holding up the schedule with a flourish, the sticky notes fluttering a little. “Later, we’ve got Ms. Emily Potter from the King Falls Public Library, giving us her picks for enlightened summer reading,” He reads from near the bottom of the list.
“Troy better watch out - I think Ben might have a new favorite guest,” Jack teases.
“W-what?” Ben drags out the word and ends in a nervous chuckle. “Well, I mean, I always - we always love talking with her, of course. This-this isn’t a competition or anything, j-just different but equally important public services.” He must catch sight of Jack’s smirk, because then he adds pointedly “Troy, if you’re hearing this, don’t listen to this-this meathead!”
Jack hides a chuckle behind his hand. “With our second disclaimer of the night out of the way, why don’t you continue with what else we have on tap?” He suggests, before they can go off the rails again.
“Right, right!” Ben says, scanning the schedule again. “We, uh, we’ve got some really cool news here - we’re announcing the lineups for the First Annual King Falls Ambient Musical Festival! That’s coming up in the second hour.”
“Imagine my shock and surprise when I heard that this tiny town is having a festival,” Jack says, feigning an astonished tone. “Then, of course, I found out that it’s pretty much live ASMR, and suddenly it seemed just weird enough to fit right in around here.”
“Very funny,” Ben deadpans. “It’s not even that, it’s just, like - hipsters that want to chill out. You know, setting the mood,” He says, dropping his voice down a pitch and gliding a hand in front of him for effect. It’s almost like he’s introducing a piece back on ‘Chet Sebastian’s Jazz Corner’, though Jack decidedly wants to get his brain away from any kind of ‘mood’ that implies.
“So, it sounds like pretty much the opposite of all the concerts I’ve ever been to,” Jack says succinctly. He wonders if it’d be something Sammy would enjoy, hipster that he is, though he’d probably deny it until he got there. But that also gives Jack a great idea.
“We should go, Ben!” He says, so suddenly it makes Ben jump a little. “We can help them make it to a Second Annual.” He did promise himself he’d try to make more of an effort with Ben, since that huge gesture of trust that one morning in Rose’s. Doing something that’s not after-work breakfast that is purely for fun feels like the right move.
“R-really?” Ben asks, looking honestly surprised. “I, um - yeah! Yeah, sure! That sounds great!” He says excitedly, and Jack knows it’s the right move.
It’s also started to feel less like throwing the kid a bone, and more - well, like Jack honestly wants Ben to like him, too. He’s already a friend, yes, but what Ben doesn’t realize is that he very literally keeps Jack sane by just being there for him. And Jack suspects it’s more than the constant proximity, but that they genuinely vibe well on some level.
After a couple weeks of losing hours to debate with himself over this, he’s even decided to tell him about Sammy. Not everything that happened, of course - God, that would both drive him away from Jack and put him in danger in one fell swoop. But… some things. Ben could be of help. Ben would probably want to be of help. And it might be against his better judgment, but maybe Jack could use a little help.
He already has a conversation starter set up. Now it’s just a matter of time.
“It’s a Bros Night,” Jack says, returning Ben’s smile with his own. “Now, what else?”
Jack feels a little bad, getting Ben off track over and over again, but he jumps back to attention quickly. “Well, um, to open the show we-we’ve got the… the - um… the…” Ben slowly trails off, his megawatt excitement dimming rapidly.
“Uh, Ben? Speak up, the mic’s not catching it,” Jack tells him, leaning forward as if that’ll help him hear better.
Ben shakes his head and sets the schedule down without finishing the sentence. “You know… maybe- maybe we should start it with, uh, callers first. Yeah! Just, uh, give us a call at-”
“What? No, no,” Jack interrupts, giving Ben a look of confusion. “Hold your phones, everyone, because our first guest will be calling any second now. Here, I’ll give the intro if you want. First up, ladies and gents and everyone else, we have-”
Ben immediately starts speaking over him. “That number is 424-279-3858, or you can tweet us at-”
“Ben!” Jack cuts him off, again. “C’mon, we talked about this. It’s a big. Scoop. Big city, serious journalism worthy,” He says slowly. This must’ve been the fifth time he’s repeated that, ever since he put the guest on the list.
Ben makes a noise between a sigh and a groan. “I know! I know, Jack, and I-I’m sorry. It’s just- I’m-I’m not feelin’ the best here, alright?” He says, looking - oh. This is diving into unfortunately familiar territory, and it just gets worse as Ben goes on. “My stomach is all… knotted up, just thinking about this. I-I think it might actually be an ulcer. It tastes like fear and feels like cancer.”
Jack stops him before he can work himself up more. “Alright, alright. I get it. Deep breaths. In four, hold two, out five,” He suggests. There’s a beat where Ben looks at him skeptically, but after Jack starts to exaggeratedly demonstrate he relents and follows along. “Just - steady, stay steady now,” He says gently as Ben does the counts a few times.
“Look,” Jack starts, once Ben looks less like he’s going to throw up live on air (they did make a promise to Ron, after all - or Ben did at least), “I know that this is just extra stress on top of the disclaimer and everything, but we’ll be fine. You hear me? Fine,” He says firmly, but not patronizingly - he hopes. It’s been a while since he’s had to do this.
Nights in their bedroom, or bathrooms at parties, or the studio’s broom closet, or the car pulled over on the side of the highway, all come back to him at once. Jack’s not even sure if this is a full-blown anxiety attack, but as his friend and the one making him go through this stress, he’s obligated to try and talk him through the fear.
“This is reporting on something that is public record as of earlier today - we’re not doing anything wrong, or even going to try and purposefully skew it. I swear!” Jack insists when Ben looks doubtful at the last part. “But we can’t ignore what happened on our airwaves before - what’s done is done about that - and it’d be unprofessional not to do a proper follow-up on it now and get all our facts in order. Rule One, right?” He adds, smiling when Ben rolls his eyes. “No undue bashing. Until it’s due, of course.”
“If it’s due,” Ben corrects, thankfully looking much calmer than before.
“Sure, okay, ‘if’,” Jack allows. He gives him a small smile, which Ben tentatively returns. Then, a sharp ringing breaks into their little moment. “Ah - hear that? That’s the hotline, right on cue,” He says cheerily, though he makes no move to pick it up just yet, still watching Ben carefully.
Ben takes a deep breath, apparently trying to steady himself. “Okay, okay. Yeah. Let’s - yeah, let’s answer. We… are news. We’re the news. There’s news to make… news.” A bit of a lame note to finish his little self-pep-talk off on, but it seems to work. Ben reaches for the hotline without any prompting from Jack, who has to squash a small swell of pride at the sight. “Okay, um, here we go. Welcome to King Falls AM, you’re on the air.”
“Good evening,” Greets a dry, slow voice. “This is Dr. Jeffrey Rosenblum with the King Falls County Coroner’s office.”
Jack definitely sees why he doesn’t work the front like Joseph. “Thank you for speaking with us tonight, Dr. Rosenblum,” He says politely.
“Excited to be here, Jack. Ecstatic, even,” Dr. Rosenblum says, with the strangest inflection Jack’s ever heard - it’s almost like they’re speaking to a robot trying to recreate human tone but with really limited processing. “We listen to your show on slow nights.”
“Well, I should hope that most nights are slow there,” Jack says before he can stop himself.
“Jack!” Ben hisses, because apparently jokes about apparitions are allowed but not the county mortality rate. Which - okay, fair.
“Alright!” He relents immediately, holding his hands up in surrender. “Regardless, we appreciate it,” He says, back to addressing Dr. Rosenblum. “Now, you were the overseeing physician working on the body pulled out of Lake Hatchenhaw, correct?”
“Yes, irrefutably,” He answers, still in a tone that Jack would call ‘lifeless’ if he wanted to be kicked in the shin. “I appreciate you restating facts for the benefit of your listeners, even though I’m sure Joe has already told you this… and more.”
Ben shoots Jack a questioning look. “Joe? Wait, who’s Joe?”
Jack scrambles for an answer that isn’t an outright lie, but doesn’t throw either him or Joseph under the bus. Sammy’s always been better at avoiding topics, yet here Jack is as the one trying to juggle way too many secrets. “A fellow cryptid fan, but that’s not relevant,” He says flippantly, barreling on before Ben can ask anything else. “Anyways, Doctor, your official report was released at what is now considered yesterday morning, but not once all day has any news outlet reported on it.”
“You are correct. Bust news day, one would assume.” Jack can’t even tell if that was meant to be sarcastic or not.
“W-wait, really? No one?” Ben repeats, suddenly looking nervous again. Where Jack takes the apparent taboo as a challenge, Ben takes it as a danger warning.
Jack will just have to try another approach and appeal to Ben’s own… biases. “Yep,” He says cheerfully. “We’ll be the first - even before Channel 13!”
The change is instantaneous. Ben’s eyes narrow and he sits up straight, leaning closer to the mic and soundboard. “Alright, doc, lay it on us - what happened when you cracked open the mystery body?” He asks - no, interrogates. But the new attitude slips away a little as Ben continues. “Was there… there wasn’t any evidence that Kingsy did it, right?”
“There was no evidence that a creature, large or small, had anything to do with the deceased.”
Ben slumps back with relief. “Phew. That’s - I knew Kingsy didn’t have it in her.”
“Excellent,” Jack says, though he hadn’t been worried about that. He would’ve noticed huge bite marks in those pictures. But, of course, there had to be things he definitely didn’t notice that a medical professional would, which is why they’re here. “Now, was there any sign of foul play involved?”
“During our first autopsy, we were not able to distinguish with certainty the cause of death. But there were no signs of foul play.”
“Wait - first autopsy?” Jack repeats, glancing at Ben to make sure he heard right.
Apparently, he had. “Is that normal?” Ben asks doubtfully. “Did you find the cause of death during the… second autopsy?”
“Indeed,” Dr. Rosenblum answers, to their surprise. “It was six individual gunshot wounds to the victims head. Three shots to the temporal lobe, two to the medulla oblongata, and one to the frontal lobe.”
“Six,” Jack repeats for emphasis. “Six… gunshot wounds. How- how do you miss something like that?” He asks, as much to the doctor as himself. The body’s face had been grey and distorted, but definitely free of holes, he’s positive. “I mean, the-the first time?” He adds for clarification.
“And how is that not foul play?!” Ben asks the arguably more important question. “That’s definitely murder.”
“With respect, Jack, we did not ‘miss’ the bullet wounds during the first autopsy.” Jack doesn’t know if he’s meant to take that as a reprimand or just polite clarification. “They were not there. And so, there was no evidence of foul play.”
“Wait a second,” Jack and Ben say at the same time.
Automatically, Jack knocks twice on the table. “Jinx,” He says, to which Ben shoots him a glare. But, too bad, he now owes Jack a coffee from Rose’s by the rules of their agreement.
“Yes?” Dr. Rosenblum asks after a pause.
Jack takes it upon himself to backtrack and follow the facts to their natural conclusion. “Okay, so - something happened between the first and second autopsy that made it end up with six bullet wounds. Why- why would someone shoot a corpse?” He asks, because that’s the missing piece.
“Unless… it was to cover up the actual cause of death, but that would be sloppy to do it then since it was after the body had already been found and examined,” Jack mutters to himself. “Or, unless…” He pauses, not to be intentionally dramatic but because it feels like an outlandish theory, even for him. “Unless the John Doe needed to be killed a second time,” He finishes, and he sees Ben’s eyes widen.
“The gunshots were self-defense, administered via Deputy Kriegshauser at my behest,” Dr. Rosenblum answers, all but confirming Jack’s second theory.
Ben shakes himself out of his surprise first. “I’m getting Troy on the line,” He says, already messing with the dials.
“Okay, good. We’ll - we’ll get right back to this in just a moment,” Jack says, because as much as he wants to keep riding this train of thought, the clock’s telling him there are bills to pay. “But if you don’t mind, Doctor, we need to take a quick break to hear from one of our sponsors.”
“That’s just… dandy,” Dr. Rosenblum answers, and Jack’s completely given up on deciphering his speech pattern. He just hits the button to take them to break.
Ben’s anxiously tapping the table as he waits for Troy to pick up, so Jack’s left to stew.
‘Self-defense’ - does that mean the body got up and attacked the doctor, or Troy? Was it - no, it was definitely dead in the first place, Jack had seen that for himself clear as day. But what would cause it to get up again? Necromancy? Zombie virus? Witch curse? Was that why Troy was driving toward the Coroner’s Office just as Jack was leaving? Did this happen fifty feet away from him and he hadn’t even noticed? Had he just barely escaped being zombie chow? That’s definitely not how he pictured the apocalypse happening, and what a sucky way for him to go.
The transition music breaks Jack out of his spiral and he does his best to reorient himself quickly. “Welcome back to King Falls AM. If you’re just tuning in, we’re here talking with King Falls County Coroner Dr. Jeffrey Rosenblum.”
“A pleasure.”
“Did you manage to get to Troy?” Jack asks, to which Ben shakes his head.
“He’s booking one of the Williams Boys for mooning. He’ll call us in a few,” Ben answers. Jack is starting to get used to hearing about their antics, though he hasn’t run into either of them in person yet. Everything he hears, though, just confirms that Troy has the patience of a saint.
They can at least go ahead and start getting the real story out there. “Doctor, do you mind giving us the play-by-play of what happened between the first and second autopsies?” Jack asks.
“Of course. As I was finishing up the initial post-mortem, it came to my attention that the deceased began to emit a hissing sound, fluctuating between the lower thorax and the larynx.”
“Oh my God,” Ben breathes, a little shocked and a little squeamish.
“I called for Deputy Kriegshauser and he entered, as I wanted someone else to see this phenomenon. That’s when the John Doe began a slight… thrashing about the upper torso.”
“Um, are you saying-” Ben starts, but Dr. Rosenblum continues as if he didn’t hear him.
“The deputy began to fumble for his sidearm while we both discerned that something was wildly… amiss. The deceased opened its eyes and instantly grabbed for the lapel of my lab coat, with voracious tenacity.”
“Wha- uh, go on,” Ben encourages needlessly. The doctor seems to be in the zone for telling his ghost story.
“It gnashed its teeth as I emitted a terrified, albeit high pitched, scream.” At least he’s honest? “And that’s when Troy unholstered his sidearm and administered six lethal shots to the reanimated corpses cranium.”
“A zombie?” Jack and Ben ask as one, but this time Ben knocks on wood first.
“Jinx!” Ben says triumphantly.
“Really? Now?” Jack sighs, but he’s already given up on getting his free coffee.
“Yes, now. Also, we’ve got Troy on the line,” Ben adds.
Distantly, they can hear Troy’s voice, presumably addressing whatever Williams boy was causing a ruckus. “I don’t care if you was only joshin’! You can’t show your G.D. derriere out in public!” Then, much closer and warmer, he speaks directly to them. “Hey, boys, what’s goin’ on tonight?”
“You tell us, Troy!” Jack returns. “We’ve got Dr. Rosenblum on the line here and-”
“Is this about the zombie?” Troy interrupts, catching on quick.
“Yes!” Ben exclaims, and if Jack didn’t know better he’d say Ben sounds excited. “So- so you’re confirming this story, Troy?”
“Hell yeah, I’m confirmin’! I had to do three hours of damn paperwork for unloadin’ my pistola into a corpse! Sheriff Gunderson was not the happiest of campers…”
“This is amazing! This is unprecedented,” Ben says empathetically, apparently really committed to the whole idea of ‘get one over on Channel 13’.
“Well, there was that one time at the mall in the 80s,” Jack says, recalling one of a great many articles he had gone through on the microfilms. “Not the exact same symptoms with the hissing and all, but was a case of apparent reanimation that had to be quarantined there.”
“Oh! Yeah, I remember hearing about that,” Ben replies, though he doesn’t look discouraged. “Still, that’s almost a thirty-year gap!”
“I assure you that it is a first in my time in this profession. Wowzers.” Seriously, Jack has half a mind to give him the Turing Test, though that’d undoubtedly be rude.
“Honest Ingun, boys. I capped the all get out of that thing! It had the doc by the face, ‘bout to start chewin’!”
“You’re my hero, Deputy Troy,” Dr. Rosenblum says in his usual monotone.
“Shucks, wasn’t nothin’ special,” Troy chuckles, wonderfully humble and apparently ready to take anything the doctor says as genuine. Which, honestly, is probably easier than trying to parse out any instances of sarcasm anyways.
“But you didn’t even save it for study!” Ben complains.
“Sorry, Ben, but I’ve gotta agree that was the right call,” Jack says, ignoring Ben’s disappointed look. “We don’t need King Falls being Ground Zero for the apocalypse.”
“About that,” Dr. Rosenblum cuts in, and Jack barely resists the urge to facepalm right then. “I don’t want to cause an uproar here. But since that examinee, there have been… other cases.”
“Of freakin’ zombies?!” Ben asks, almost bouncing in his seat.
“Of reanimation among corpses… yes.”
“Doc, you just give me a call if you need,” Troy says sincerely. “I’m more than happy to go Clint Eastwood if the situation arises.”
“Will do, Deputy. Thank you so much for your assistance. Without you, there may not have been this interview.”
“To protect and serve!”
“Thanks for this… we’ll call it a PSA, Dr. Rosenblum,” Jack says. “You and the other folks down at the morgue stay safe. And for everyone listening - just keep an ear out for hissing sounds, I guess. Remember that there’s no shame in running.”
“As they say, ‘you got it… dude’.” Dr. Rosenblum says, then hangs up.
On the other line, they hear a police siren whine. “Ah hell, boys! I gotta go. I’ll call you back later tonight. One of the Williams boys is tryin’ to saw through the bars outside the jailhouse,” Troy says, then apparently steps away and turning on his megaphone. “Jacob Williams, put your hands up and the file down.” Ben takes the liberty of cutting him off.
“Alright King Falls, you’ve heard our story, let’s hear yours,” Ben says. “Have you or anyone you know experienced anything like what the doctor spoke of? Reanimation? The walking-”
“Watch the copyright,” Jack interrupts.
“Well - you all know what I mean,” Ben amends. “Give us a call or tweet us!”
“Is it a good or bad thing that the board’s lighting up?” Jack asks, eyeing the full array of blinking lights.
“Should we be finding a basement to hide in?” Ben questions, looking ready to bolt if Jack says ‘go’.
“Well, remember that this happened a month ago,” Jack reasons. “If we’re not overrun by now, it’s probably fine.”
“... Line 1, Jack,” Ben says, punching the button.
“Welcome to King Falls AM, you’re live with Jack and Ben,” He greets.
“Good evening, Jack,” says a flat feminine voice. “Please hold for Mayor Grisham.”
Jack barely holds in an irritated sigh, but Ben’s gone pale. “What now?” Jack groans.
“He… probably just wants us to mark these tapes as evidence. Right, Jack?” Ben asks weakly.
“Or confiscate them and give us a gag order as the cherry on top,” Jack answers bitterly.
“Jack Wright, Mayor Grisham,” the voice informs them.
“Grisham,” Jack says by way of greeting, taking the lead since Ben looks ready to faint out of his chair.
“Jack. Ben.” Grisham returns.
“You’re live. What do you have to say?” Jack asks.
“Take me off and go to break. We need to chat.” Grisham may have mastered the art of giving orders in a lax tone, but Jack has learned passive aggressiveness from the best.
“I’m afraid we’re not scheduled for another break for at least another ten minutes,” He replies. “Say whatever it is for everyone to hear.”
“Ben, Grisham growls, making his friend jump. “Cut. To. Commercial.”
Jack and Ben lock eyes for a beat. Jack gives a slow shake of his head. Ben takes a moment to breathe in and out in the exact way Jack had coached him through earlier.
“Uh, well. The-the thing is… I-I can’t do that. Sir,” Ben says steadily, and - yeah, okay, Jack’s allowed to feel proud of him right now.
“You boys want to talk live on air? We can talk live on air,” Grisham says, composure cracking just a bit more. Point to them in this game of ruffling feathers.
“Is this about how we missed the memo to all the outlets and news stations about how we were not to inform the public about a dangerous public safety hazard? Because I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that,” Jack says, not even able to keep up the false cheer all the way through.
“Yes, I’ve read the transcripts, Jack,” Grisham says, spitting his name like that’s going to intimidate him.
“Are we special, in that regard? Do you take time out of your busy schedule to read through every media report in town, or just the ones that you don’t have heavy influence over?” Jack fires back.
“What are you insinuating?” Grisham asks through gritted teeth.
“Oh, I’m just thinking out loud. Theorizing. Refer to your reading and you’ll see that I do that a lot,” Jack says, knowing he’s being cheeky but not caring. He’s on a roll. “It just seems like a lot of trouble to go through, unless you have a really good reason for controlling public perception of events, thereby taking away our right of free speech and everyone else’s right to be informed, especially of potential danger. No matter how inconvenient that may be for you personally, don’t you have a duty as a public servant, first and foremost?”
There’s a moment of silence, but Jack knows better than to think he won that easily. “And yet you are running around and sticking your nose in places it shouldn’t be, which is well outside of your duty of observing and informing,” Grisham seethes.
Jack freezes. A ball of lead sinks heavy in his gut. “Grisham- Mayor,” He tries, but he’s already stepped into the bear trap.
“Not only have weirdly exciting events been coinciding with your little late-night talk show in particular, but it seems that even in your off time you go out of your way to find out about even more weird things. It just seems like a lot of trouble to go through, unless you have a fantastically good reason for requesting police records of case that’s a half-century old and long since closed.”
“You’ve been holding back my request,” Jack realizes. The Fletcher case was supposed to be his biggest lead yet, apparition-divined and all, but he’s been stalled for weeks from getting any more information on it. God, he should’ve known the wheels of bureaucracy don’t turn that slow, especially in little King Falls. “You-!” He starts, then stops. Takes a breath, refocuses. Ben’s eyeing him warily.
Point Grisham, it seems.
“You have no right to do so when I’ve gone through all the necessary channels,” Jack says as evenly as he can manage. “And I’m sure I don’t want to know what you’re insinuating right now. That I’m - what? Digging for new material, to stage kidnappings and killings? That’s utterly ridiculous.” ‘I’m not a monster, He doesn’t add, because that’s not true. But he won’t go out of his way to hurt anyone else, that’s for sure.
Not that he ever needed to do anything special to destroy-
“I’m simply theorizing based on facts,” Grisham replies smugly. “I’m sure your ratings have gone way up alongside these sensational events. You can’t blame me for wondering why that is.”
“We don’t sensationalize anything,” Jack bites. “And you don’t get to invalidate the horrible experiences of other people like this.”
“I’ve tried to be nice about this,” Grisham says, as if he’s the one being picked on here. “And I tried to be civil, but it’s you troublemakers that keep making it worse! As unlikely as it seems, you all have an audience at this god-awful hour, and you would do well to stop making things worse for them.”
“I repeat that you should have a little respect for your constituents and what they can and cannot handle for themselves. And respect for us as an independent news outlet that does not have to bend to your will,” Jack says firmly.
“My will as a public servant is for you to not lie to the good people of King Falls!” Grisham shouts, and Jack has a good time picturing his wrinkly face blotching with red.
Point Jack.
“Come back when you have actual evidence,” Jack says tersely, then dumps Grisham’s line. The line almost immediately lights up again, but Jack wipes it without bothering.
Ben’s been silent through most of that exchange. When Jack finally looks at him again, he’s not sure he likes the expression on his friend’s face. It’s pinched and worried and… a little suspicious.
“... What was that all about, Jack?” Ben asks carefully, but doesn’t give him a chance to reply. “I-I mean I know there’s never been any love between you and Mayor Grisham, but that was… kind of vicious. And-and what was that about police records?”
“It… has to do with my research,” Jack answers slowly, well aware that they’re still on the air. “I’ll- I’ll tell you some about it later. Just trust me here.”
“No, not later! Now!” Ben says, with enough force to surprise Jack. “Jack, I-I want to trust you, I’ve been trying to trust you, but you don’t seem to trust me!” Jack can hear the hurt there, the ‘I opened up to you and this is how you treat me’, and it stings because this isn’t what he meant to happen. He knows he’s been… more or less blatantly suspicious, showing up out of nowhere and poking around and never answering why. Apparently he had made the mistake of assuming Ben didn’t notice, or at least didn’t mind.
“You-you're just keeping secrets and leaving me out of the loop! I thought we were getting closer, but you still won’t tell me anything about your mysterious ‘research’ at the library, and now there’s whoever ‘Joe’ is and you investigating old cases - what’re you, some weird private eye?” Ben’s well into rant mode right now, and as much as Jack tries to cut in he can’t.
“For god’s sake, you didn’t even tell me when the hell you got engaged!” Ben all but shouts, and the bottom drops out of Jack’s stomach.
Time freezes. One of Ben’s arms is extended, his finger pointing accusingly at the ring on Jack’s left hand.
This is not how this was supposed to go.
Every time he had tried to get the words out about Sammy, they just wouldn’t come. No matter how many times he rehearsed, the words would clog his throat and choke him off and no amount of logical reasoning that telling Ben would be okay, that he wouldn’t mind and he’d be happy and stay friends with Jack and he could finally stop hiding, would help force them out.
He decided he was tired of hiding. From anyone. From everyone. About this, at least, this basic part of his identity and the key to his heart and soul.
It had felt both underwhelming and like a great ceremony to remove the engagement ring from its chain and finally place it on his ring finger, where it was always meant to be. And then it had been a simple matter of time, waiting for Ben to ask.
It would be easy. Casual, like how Ben did it with him. They would be sitting over paperwork in their shared office, or pancakes in their usual booth at Rose’s.
‘Who’s the lucky girl?’ Ben would ask.
‘Guy, actually,’ Jack would reply.
And then he would get to freely talk about the love of his life and his mission to get him back and Ben would finally understand. Then Jack could have the strength to tell anyone else who would ask. Like Troy or Mary or Emily. And he would no longer be alone, though maybe that’s what he deserves. It would eventually get out to the whole town, trickle out in gossip and murmurs, but he’d have time to acclimate.
It wasn’t supposed to go like this, live on the air for everyone to hear at once, thrown into boiling water without a chance to dip his toe in. But he should’ve known, with his shit luck.
Time unfreezes. Ben’s still on a roll.
“You just showed up the other day, wearing a ring, and I kept meaning to ask - but like, you could’ve told me! I would’ve been - I mean I am happy for you, but I don’t even know who it could be! When did you even get a secret girlfriend anyways? You’re always either with me, or at the library with-” Ben pauses, anger simmering down as his eyes go wide. “Wait, crap. It’s-it’s not Emily, is it? Bro, please, you wouldn’t do that to me, right?” He asks desperately.
That, at last, is enough to unstick Jack’s mouth. “What?! No! No, it’s not Emily!” He denies, trying not to roll his eyes when Ben sags with relief. “This happened way before King Falls! And-and it’s not even a girl!”
Well… there it is.
It’s Ben’s turn to freeze, mouth hanging open. Jack does his best not to look away.
“You mean-”
“Sammy,” Jack interrupts, because the name has been trying to break out of his chest and be heard for so long and he can’t go another second without saying it. After that, the words don’t stop coming. “His name is Sammy. He’s my fiancé. I’m in desperate, foolish love with a man who swept me off my feet ran away with me to achieve our dreams. Have been for years now.”
Ben still hasn’t moved, but Jack can see the lingering confusion and hurt on his face. So, he keeps talking. “I… should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry. I was just - scared, honestly.” He still is scared, but he had already decided that the fear of losing Sammy forever is greater than anything this town could throw at him out of blind hate and ignorance.
“Neither he or I have ever been out before, for the sake of our careers,” Jack continues, the simpler part of the answer to ‘why?’ “There weren’t even openly gay radio personalities back in the big city, and with moving here to this small town it felt even more like a gamble.”
To his astonishment, Ben relaxes and smiles oh-so-gently at him, not even a hint of betrayal left. It warms a little of what’s left of Jack’s heart. “Yeah, dude. I… I get it. I’m sorry for… yelling like that,” Ben says, though Jack can read between the lines and see ‘kinda sorta forcing you out like that.’ “You’re still my friend, don’t even worry- oof!”
Jack’s always been a touchy person, and today’s no different. He cuts Ben off with a hug, abandoning his headphones and chair to wrap himself around his friend, trying to communicate everything he can’t on air through the tight squeeze of his arms.
He feels more than hears Ben laugh and hug him back around his shoulders. “Bro-hug it out, dude. I got you,” Ben assures.
Jack goes back to his seat a moment later, because like it or not they still have a show to do. The glowing On Air sign is just a lovely reminder of their situation. He slips his headphones back on, and he and Ben take a moment just to smile at eachother now that that’s finally out in the open.
“We-we can talk later,” Ben says, generously trying to give him an out. But Jack shakes his head with a grimace.
“Well, according to the phone lines, we’re talking about it now,” He says, pointing to the board, which is lit up like a Christmas tree.
“We don’t have to take calls,” Ben insists, though it’s completely counterproductive to how a talk show is supposed to work. He must know this, but he’s still trying to stand by Jack. He even glares at the board, as if trying to intimidate the lights into going out, and Jack really and truly knows that Ben has his back in this. It’s… kind of a really empowering feeling, if he can dig past the heavy dread.
“It’s fine,” Jack says, giving Ben a confident smile that he may not fully feel just yet. But he’s trying. “I’d rather go ahead and get some of this out of the way before the rumor mill starts turning on its own.”
“... If you’re sure,” Ben says, to which Jack nods. “Fine, okay,” He sighs. “But I’m warning everyone right now that I have my finger on the dump button, and I am not afraid to use it! We don’t tolerate caller harassment here on King Falls, and this is no exception!” True to his word, he hovers with his left pointer finger over the dump button and the right in its usual place over the bleeper. Stubbornly unwilling to move from this self-appointed post, he asks Jack to pick a line.
Jack does his best to give him an encouraging smile, but he knows his heart isn’t in it. He selects one at random. “Line 4, you’re live on King Falls AM,” He greets. Miracle of miracles, it seems his luck is finally taking a turn - if the high-pitched yipping in the background of the call is anything to go by, that is.
“Jackson Wright, I cannot believe you’ve been leading me on! Didn’t your mama raise you better than that?” Archie asks, sounding honestly miffed.
“Sorry, Archie,” Jack says, grinning and probably not sounding sorry at all. “I swear I didn’t mean anything by it. But, rest assured, there’s only one man out there for me.”
“Ugh, fine,” Archie sighs. “As long as I can keep lookin’ at the menu, I guess I won’t try orderin’.”
Jack flushes and gives Ben a kick under the table when he starts sniggering. “That’s much appreciated,” He tells Archie, for lack of a better response.
“Now, where is this man of yours?” Archie asks the one question that’s the hardest to answer. “He’s not still back in the big city, is he?”
Ben looks at him and Jack knows he’s wondering the same thing. He has carefully thought over his words and exactly how much is safe to say. But, now, in the moment, even thinking about what he did to Sammy is enough to make him want to run out the door and hide his face from the world. As it is, he just sits there and tries to breathe through the tightness in his chest.
He can’t avoid this, but he also can’t explain in full. He knows Ben wouldn’t look at him so fondly if he did.
“No, he’s not there,” Jack starts slowly, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “I honestly don’t know where he is,” He adds quietly. Neither of them interrupt and simply wait for him to continue, though Ben is looking more worried.
“Sammy’s missing,” He says, the words dropping from his mouth like balls of lead. “He was taken, earlier this year. It-it wasn’t UFOs or rainbow lights, it wasn’t like Tim, exactly,” because Tim was an accident, a random bystander, not someone exposed and twisted- “But whatever took him wasn’t of this world. All the evidence points to it a supernatural entity that resides here in King Falls, or at least something here leads to it. No one - not my sister or the police - understood that. They told me I was crazy and to give it up. To… give up on him.”
“Well, that’s a load of horseshit,” Archie cuts in, and it’s purely by Ben’s reflexes that he gets censored.
Jack gets the bizarre urge to laugh but swallows it down. “Yeah, I know. But not everywhere is like King Falls,” He says, a little ruefully. He risks a look at Ben’s face and sees awful realization. He tries to return it with a gentle expression of his own.
“I followed him, Ben. I went to the one place in the world he could possibly be in search of answers - of him.” And Jack’s found neither so far. “I’m-I’m sorry I gave you the impression that I just ended up here on a whim, but-”
“No, no! Jack, it’s okay,” Ben says, and Jack doesn’t deserve the heartfelt look he’s giving him at all. “This whole time, you-you’ve been looking for him, alone. I-I mean, that’s what you’re always doing at the library, right? And… and did you go to the morgue?” He asks, sounding physically pained.
“I… I had to check when that body showed up,” Jack whispers. He’s not even sure if the mic caught that, but he can’t force his voice any louder. “It wasn’t, thank god, but… I just had to know.”
“How did I not know?” Ben asks, apparently to himself. “How could I have missed this?”
“I didn’t tell you, so you couldn’t have known,” Jack retorts before Ben can be harder on himself. Ben had asked a few times, at the library, but Jack had always blown him off. He’s spent the whole time being focused on his work, focused on getting answers without risking others, focused on getting him back. Expanding that focus to include others that might not even be of help wasn’t the original plan. But… sometimes plans need to be changed, as you gain more information. More allies.
“Well, now we do know!” Archie says cheerily, breaking the somber mood. “So now you’re gonna have to give us all the deets so we can get on with huntin’ down your hubby.”
“... Fiancé,” Jack corrects, partly because he finally can, but mostly because he has no idea where he’d even start explaining the ‘deets’. Involving people at all is a risk, but where’s the balance between enough information to be of help and too much that could put them at risk? Maybe a physical description of Sammy on the off chance he’s even been seen on this plane of existence? Or maybe a recording of his voice? Just in case he… manages to make any phone calls.
He can almost hear Archie’s eye-roll. “Semantics,” He scoffs.
“I appreciate the offer, Archie,” Jack says delicately. “I’ll think about it, but I’m not sure how much more I want to talk about… that tonight.”
“Oh, very well,” Archie sighs. But, just like that, he marches on. “Regardless, though, you’ve gotta be stressed out of your damn mind! You’re gonna wrinkle that pretty little face of yours if you don’t do some self-care.” Jack blushes, again. Leave it to Archie to always be shameless.
“So, out of the goodness of my heart,” He continues, sounding dramatically put-upon. Jack can just picture him placing a hand lightly against his chest. “You can drop by at any time and I’ll allow you to play with the puppies. No charge, special deal just for you.”
“Now, Archie, we just talked about how I’m a promised man,” Jack teases, already feeling a little better despite himself.
“I already told ya, I won’t be orderin’!” Archie huffs.
“Then I’ll keep it in mind,” Jack promises. They exchange goodbyes and Archie hangs up, leaving them back to their own devices.
Ben’s trying not to laugh. Jack just rolls his eyes, though he can’t fight his smile. But then Ben just has to jinx them by saying “That actually went pretty well!”
“I… guess we can take our chances with another,” Jack decides, mentally bracing himself for the cosmic forces to turn on him again. He picks another even number, hoping against hope that’ll somehow mitigate it. “Line 8, how are you tonight?”
“I was a lot better before you started broadcasting your personal lifestyle all over the radio!” Cynthia snaps, because the universe always has and always will hate him.
Thankfully, Ben jumps to his defense. “Really, Cynthia? I had hoped you’d be above spewing hate,” He says, although, personally, Jack would’ve put her near the top of the list just from the few times they’ve spoken.
“I don’t hate him! I would never be ugly like that. Just who do you take me for? Helen Baker?”
“Criticizing your lemon square recipe isn’t exactly comparable,” Ben replies. Noticing Jack’s questioning look, he hastily explains. “My mom still goes to the PTA meetings to, like, socialize and stuff. There’s lots of drama, apparently.”
“Well I have kids that are actually young enough to still attend school!” Cynthia cuts in. “Which they get up quite early for! What am I supposed to do if they hear your damn talk during breakfast, huh?”
“I’ve said nothing indecent,” Jack says, fighting with himself to stay level. He’s heard, and will in all likelihood continue to hear, worse. This is what being out will be like sometimes. He can take it. He’s more worried about Ben, who’s looking a little sick to the stomach. Quietly, he reaches over and grabs his right hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“That’s not for you to decide!” She says, not making a lick of sense. “What you’re saying - anything you say like that could be putting ideas into their heads! They deserve the chance to grow up without that kind of influence on their lives and be… you know!”
“What? Normal?” Jack bites. “Go on and say it, if that’s what you mean.”
“Boys with girlfriends and men with wives, as it’s intended,” Cynthia sniffs, which is as good as saying it. “You have no business promoting any fantasies that are otherwise!”
“Th-that’s it! Goodbye, Cynthia,” Ben says, pressing the dump button with finality. Jack honestly hopes it makes him feel a bit better, seeing as how just about everything else is out of their control right now. He gives Ben’s hand one more squeeze before letting go, so he can go back to hovering over his two favorite buttons.
Jack sighs and runs a hand through his hair, briefly knocking his headphones askew before righting them again. He’s sure that Cynthia’s not the only one feeling this way, even if she ends up being the most vocal among them. He might as well address the issue now.
“I won’t talk much about my ‘personal lifestyle’ on air if it bothers a lot of people,” Jack says, then pauses because Ben looks like he wants to protest. As much as he appreciates it, he holds up a hand to keep him quiet. Jack may not always be the best talker, but… he’s ready for this. He knows what he wants to say.
“But, honestly - and I really hate to break this to you - but unless we find out that Merv gives a crap, you’ll be listening to a gay man co-hosting this radio show.” Two not-straight men, to be specific, but all the focus is on Jack right now and he’s sure as hell keeping it that way.
God, saying every word of that sentence doesn’t feel real. This night doesn’t feel real. But he’s done with rolling over for others. He wonders if Sammy would be proud, if he could hear this, or if he would be panicking about a hundred times more than Jack. Maybe both.
“I’m sorry if it bothers you,” Jack continues, even though he’s not sorry about that at all, “But I’m here, just trying to live my life - the goal of which, right now, is to find the man who completes it. So it may come up once or twice. I won’t apologize for that, because he deserves a free and happy life as much as anyone. And if I can do anything, anything to make that happen, on or off the air, I will.”
More emotions than Jack can name are running through him right now - things like a little regret and anguish and a lot of sorrow and longing and brokenness - but above all, there’s anger. He pours it all into his next words, hoping that he can force a mere fraction of what he feels to resonate through the airwaves just so that those listening might understand.
“You can always turn the dial and ignore me and my problems and go back to your life at any time you damn well please. And while you and I are sitting here, safe and sound - he is trapped. And he is suffering. And until I can get him out, until I bring him back to me and he is safe in my arms and I am whole again, you will just have to deal with what’s left of me being here. I sincerely hope that my existence won’t be too much of an inconvenience to you.”
Jack sits back, eyes burning and heartbeat thundering and everything within him still overflowing. It’s still all too much. He might be shaking. But he’s not going to cry, not right now, not on air and not in front of Ben. He will not let them hear him break now, or ever, if he can help it.
The only way he can describe the look Ben’s giving him is one full of awe. “Woah,” He murmurs, just loud enough for the mic to pick up. Jack can tell that there are a hundred things he wants to say to him right now, but can’t. He does his best to give Ben a tired smile, but he knows it’s not good enough.
“You know, I think that commercial might do us some good right now,” Ben says after a moment, sounding a little shaken himself. He hits the button for the queue, then does one further and wipes the board free of calls.
Jack is already taking off his headphones. “I-I need some air,” He says, hating how his voice cracks a little. Ben just nods, still giving him that look of wonderment. “I’ll be right back,” Jack promises, then ducks out into the hall and fast-walks out the door.
Outside, he leans against the station’s old wood and takes a couple deep breaths of cool mountain air. In four, hold two, out five.
He looks up at all the stars he can see from up on top of the mountain, feeling small and wondering if what he just did really was the right thing. But since he already made the worst choice of his life all those months ago, everything else seems so much smaller, too.
****
It’s a long… long night.
Ben tries to argue that he can do the rest of the show on his own, but Jack refuses to let him hang out to dry. He can imagine how Ben’s feeling right now, stuck acting like his only personal stake in this is his friendship with Jack when the words hurt him just as much. Ben may have been the one to bring it up, but Jack’s still the one that dropped the bomb. The least he can do is help do damage control on another mess he’s made.
Together, they field calls and comments that range from supportive to “go to hell”, including a few that are honestly confused and it’s all Jack can do to not delve into ‘Gender and Sexuality 101’. For the most part, they try very, very hard to keep things on topic and stick to the schedule, which is sort of their last line of defense in controlling this mess. It mostly works, but both the dump and the censor buttons still get quite the workout.
Jack gets it, a little, because he’s only been here for just over two months and he might as well still be a stranger to all these people. He’s now making his problems theirs, too, when this town already has enough to deal with. But he can’t take it back and can’t afford to shoulder any more regret than he already carries. He just has to stand by what he said and trust Ben to stand with him.
Troy does call them back, like he promised. He’s nothing but good, gentle, and kind, just like he always is.
“You know I’ve got your back, buddy. You love who you love, and there ain’t no shame in that. We’ll find your Sammy, even if whatever snatched him up has got more hidey holes than a mama chipmunk!”
“You always have a way with words, Troy,” Jack says, finding himself smiling and relaxing for the first time in at least half an hour.
“You got friends here, Jack,” Troy tells him, so tenderly it almost hurts. “Don’t forget that, and don’t you ever discount it.”
By the time they get to Emily’s segment, things seem to have died down for the night. At the very least, they don’t have to work to get the attention off Jack, because Emily’s so bright and engaging all on her own. She sits in the guest chair between them with a stack of books a foot high in front of her on the table, even though this is a radio show, because she likes being able to hold each pick as she talks about it and read her favorite quotes directly from the bookmarked pages.
No one is more enthralled than Ben, of course. He still stumbles over his words when Emily addresses or even smiles at him, even though they’ve talked more than a few times since Ben frequently tags along with him to the library. Jack holds back on the teasing because, at least tonight, he’s gonna let Ben be happy and make a fool of himself as much as he wants. The air between the three of them is easy and light and, overall, it’s a good note to end the show on.
Emily doesn’t bring it up, not once, but she does keep sending Jack glances that he finds hard to read. It’s far from hostile, but it almost seems like… pity, if he has to guess, but that may just be his less-than-stellar mood coloring his thoughts. He still hasn’t figured it out by the time she leaves, but then he’s focused on bringing Ben back down to earth and closing out the show.
All in all, it’s not the worst night it could’ve been. That night may come tomorrow, or maybe next Monday after the fire and brimstone services have concluded, or any night between or after that. But Jack is still exhausted from it, and the odd mixture of dread and relief from his confession has still yet to settle in his stomach.
As soon as the studio door closes behind them, Ben sweeps him into another hug. Jack returns it without hesitation because he knows Ben needs it, too.
“I’m sorry-” Jack starts, not knowing how he’s supposed to finish.
“God, Jack, no! Don’t you dare be sorry,” Ben retorts, squeezing him tighter. Jack does the same in response, but that has the effect of making Ben fail and hit him gently on the arm. “Ow, Jack! I need- I need air!”
Jack chuckles and lets him go. Ben takes a step back and a dramatic deep breath, rubbing his sides as if to massage the pain away. “I think you bruised my ribs, you meathead,” He grumbles.
“Can I be sorry for that?” Jack jokes weakly. It’s enough to get them to share a small smile.
“Seriously, though! I… I-I know what it’s like, to be… scared,” Ben says, suddenly looking anywhere but at Jack. The sight makes something in Jack ache from the familiarity of it. “I mean. Obviously. Like, I… I could never do what you just did. Not in a million years. And I know that was kind of my fault, for yelling at you about-about fucking trust and you still said it just to shut me up and I just-”
“Ben,” Jack stops him, because he can’t stand to hear him tear himself up more. “It’s okay, really.” Ben doesn’t look like he believes him, so he goes on. “I was going to come out to everyone anyways. The plan was to do it more gradually and start out with my friends, sure, but all you did was speed up the process. I’ve never tried to do anything halfway before, so I should’ve known it wouldn’t work out.”
That gets a little half-smile out of Ben. “I guess that’s fair,” He allows, but now he’s staring at his shoes. “Still kinda crappy of me, though, pointing fingers and all that. Troy would’ve told me to just be patient with you.”
“Troy’s usually good with advice. But I didn’t realize it was bothering you so much,” Jack says honestly. Since… everything, he has trouble paying attention to himself sometimes, let alone others. It’s always just… Sammy, before he goes to sleep and as soon as he wakes up and all day while jotting down notes. But Ben’s here now, and apparently he’s not going away.
Jack still feels like he needs to bestow some kind of elder gay wisdom on the kid. He doesn’t want this to feel like one of their dumb competitions, doesn’t want to make this about who’s prouder. Because that is dumb, and Ben doesn’t need to be feeling any kind of guilt.
“Since… since Sammy’s been gone, that secret has felt less important to keep, believe it or not. But that’s me and my experience,” He says and puts his hand on Ben’s shoulder, even though it feels corny, because Ben’s still not looking at him and Jack needs him to get this. It works and he looks up at Jack, eyes all big and - fuck, Jack has no idea what he’s doing but he’s gotta do this right. Sammy’s always been much better at pep-talks, even if not on this subject in particular. He wishes for the hundredth time he knew how he does it. God, Ron would probably be better than this. But for whatever reason, Jack’s word is the one that carries weight.
He spends a moment fishing for words, then takes his best shot. “You told me that you’re comfortable how you are now, only being out to those who matter, and that’s fine. Seriously, it’s awesome that you love yourself and have people that love you for you.” Jack isn’t the one who grew up here, he has no roots in King Falls, and just from what he’s heard and seen tonight there’d be a lot more for Ben to deal with. “It’s all on you when or if you go any further, but honestly I think you should just stay at the place you feel good at right now. And don’t feel bad about me getting all the heat - that’s on me, and I’ve already decided that I can take it. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, sure, but it’s either that or just stay out of the kitchen.”
Ben just keeps staring at him for a moment, but the look of insecurity slowly fades into one of confusion. “That… that last part made absolutely no sense,” He says, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh. “But I think I get what you’re saying. Uh… thanks,” He adds, giving him a small but honest smile. Jack feels lighter, seeing it. He gives Ben’s shoulder a quick squeeze before letting go.
“Maybe we should skip Rose’s today,” Jack suggests. He doubts he’d be refused service or anything, but facing the public right now feels like a gamble that he’s not willing to take right at the moment.
“Yeah, that’s probably smart,” Ben agrees. And- there, that’s his favorite Ben Arnold look, all bright and fiery again. “But if anyone’s tried to take over our booth next time we go, I’m gonna-”
“You’re gonna what? Start a food fight?” Jack teases.
“What?! No!” Ben honestly looks affronted at the suggestion. “That’d be a total waste of perfectly good pancake puppies! Plus, Rose would make us clean it all up.”
“‘Us’? Why would I get the blame for something you started?” Jack asks, though he knows that he’d help out regardless.
“Because we’re a packaged deal,” Ben says, like it’s obvious. “You’re my best friend, so you’ve gotta be there and back me up, even when I do stupid shit.”
Jack hears ‘best friend’ and it feels bigger than it should. He remembers his own words, about how the two of them are almost never serious, and thinks that this night has been more than heavy enough. Some things they need to talk through, others they can just quietly accept.
“Then that goes for you, too,” Jack replies, giving Ben a light jab in the side with his elbow. “Because God knows I do plenty of stupid shit myself.”
“Hey, you already bruised those enough!” Ben whines, rubbing his side again, but he’s losing the fight to keep from smiling.
“Would some shitty station coffee make you feel better?” Jack asks. He dodges Ben’s attempted hit in retaliation, laughing.
“No, but I guess it’ll do for now,” Ben sighs. But then he’s laughing, too, and Jack knows they’ll be okay.
They keep up the shoving and bickering all the way to the break room, but when they open the door they’re surprised to find it not as empty as they expected.
Emily’s there, sitting on the couch and with her books neatly stacked on the coffee table in front of her. She’s spread the throw blanket over the cushions and pillows - a good call, based on Ben’s warnings about what Chet gets up to in here sometimes. She’s also holding a mug with the station logo, and Jack can smell the coffee in the air from where she’s already made a fresh pot.
Jack has to catch Ben by the arm when he literally stumbles over his feet on his way into the room. “E-Emily!” Ben says, not even acknowledging the save. “Wha-what are you still doing here? Not-not that we don’t want you here, of course, but-”
“We weren’t expecting you to stay after your segment,” Jack finishes for him, because that sentence was going to wander for another fifteen seconds if he didn’t. Ben seems to finally realize Jack’s still holding onto him for balance and quickly shakes him off, then stands upright like that didn’t happen at all.
“I-I know,” Emily says, carefully setting the mug down on the table. “I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, Jack. I didn’t want to bring it up on air again but… I mean, I heard what happened and what some people were saying, so I felt like I should ask.”
God, she’s so sweet. Ben better not mess it up with her.
“I’m… pretty tired, honestly, but I’m okay,” He says, but Emily still looks skeptical and… worried. That’s the expression Jack had trouble pinpointing. She’s worried. For him. That’s… something.
“Seriously, I’m fine,” He insists. “It’s… it actually feels pretty good to finally get to talk about him,” He adds, and as soon as he says it he can feel how true it really is.
The guilt and the pain and the heartache are all still there, squirming and clawing and eating him from the inside out, but right now it’s all a bit… less. He hasn’t said Sammy’s name outside of an argument with his sister in months, and now he can say it whenever he wants, and everyone will know without a doubt that it’s not just some random guy or a friend he’s talking about. It’s his Sammy, his fiancé, his missing half that was torn from this world. And now he doesn’t need to hide any of that.
He doesn’t know when he started smiling, but now Emily and Ben are giving him smiles, too, and suddenly it’s a little easier to breathe.
“You’re telling us everything about him, man,” Ben says. “He’s gotta be something special to put that dopey ass look on your face.”
“Yes, please!” Emily agrees, but then hesitates. “If you’re okay with that, of course. It’s alright if it’s hard or you’re too tired right now.”
Jack’s shaking his head before she even finishes speaking, though he knows he must be bright red now. “No, it’s fine! Sammy’s probably my favorite subject to talk about, honestly,” He says. That gets Emily to relax again. “Just let me grab a mug and I’ll answer just about anything you want to know.”
“I got it!” Ben volunteers. He gets two steps toward the pot then stops and glances over to Emily. “Oh, did you- do you want a refill?”
“No, I’m fine!”
“You sure? I mean, I know it’s kind of crap, but Jack got a really good creamer that we hide in the back of the fridge and it actually makes it decent. In-in case you didn’t see it the first time, I mean.”
“Oh! Well, I guess I could try that…”
“Great!”
“Thanks, Benny.”
“N-no problem.”
Ben walks over and takes her cup, and by some miracle doesn’t spill it on her or the books. Jack passes him on his way to the couch, taking the middle seat when Emily scoots over to the right and offers.
“It’s the same brand we always kept at home,” Jack explains, the ‘we’ ringing nicely in his ears. “That’s your first fun fact about Sammy - he’s a total coffee snob,” He says, and it’s such a little thing but it feels important for them to know.
Right now, to them, Sammy’s just a name attached to Jack. To others before them, Sammy had just been an asshole of a radio personality. But now Jack is able to, invited to, even, talk about the Sammy he sees and knows and loves. And that… that can start with the little things, the kind you only learn by watching, the kind that Jack committed himself to spending a lifetime learning. He’s more than happy to share what he knows.
“Really?” Emily laughs.
“Yep,” Jack says with a fond smile, and then the words keep flowing like a dam burst. “First thing he bought once we had enough spending money was a quality french press, and before that it was all sugary Starbucks drinks every morning. When he got up early enough, at least. He’s a night owl to the bone, not to mention chronically late.”
“Wow, seriously? But you’re always, like, at least a half hour early to everything,” Ben says from across the room. He then walks over balancing three mugs in his hands, two with the King Falls AM logo and one that’s purple with a cartoonish ghost doodled on the side. He hands the station ones to him and Emily and keeps the ghost one for himself as he takes a seat to Jack’s left. Jack’s not sure if it’s better or worse for him to be seated between them.
“Yeah, that’s always been a problem. Sometimes I’ve had to physically pick him up out of bed, the lazybones,” Jack says, not without affection.
“Considering you can definitely bench me, I believe it,” Ben says solemnly.
Emily takes a sip of her new-and-improved coffee and makes a pleased noise. “Well, he seems to have pretty good taste. But what does he look like?”
“Let me guess - ‘tall, dark, and handsome’?” Ben quips.
“You’ve definitely got tall right,” Jack says, reaching into his bag to get his phone. “He’s an absolute beanpole. Ah, here.” He navigates to the right album and pulls up one of the relatively recent pictures, a selfie Jack had annoyed him into posing for because the light was good. True to form, Sammy looks half awake and has a Starbucks drink piled high with whipped cream in one hand and he’s giving Jack bunny ears with the other. And then, of course, there’s the-
“Is that a manbun?!” Ben blurts, actually swiping the phone from Jack’s hand to get a better look.
Before he even knows what he’s doing, Jack jumps and snatches it back, then clutches it tight against his chest. Both of them give him startled looks, but Jack’s too busy trying to calm his racing heart to pay attention.
What if he calls what if he calls what if she calls what if it calls-
“S-sorry,” Jack says after a moment of counting his breaths. Ben has a hand hovering over his arm, though he seems hesitant to actually touch. “Just- don’t do that, please.” They both nod slowly, Ben lowering his arm back down, and Jack clears his throat and tilts the screen to show the picture again. Neither of them comments on his white-knuckled grip.
“But, um- yeah. Yeah, that’s-that’s his ridiculous hair,” He says, trying to pick up the easy conversation they had had going. They were talking about happy things - about Sammy. He can talk about Sammy, and what it was like before… before everything went to hell.
“It-it was short when I met him in college, but after a couple years he started growing it out. It’s past his shoulders now and… really soft.” Thinking about that - about running his fingers through it, smelling it when he’s fresh from the shower, and all the hair ties he’d find around the house - that helps him calm down more than anything. He misses it all, achingly so, but that pain isn’t going away. He just lets himself be comforted right now.
“He’s really cute,” Emily decides, giving Jack a small smile. “So, you guys met in college?” She prompts gently.
“When was that? Back in the 90s?” Ben asks and Jack has half a mind to shove him off the couch for that. He probably would, if they weren’t holding open drinks right now.
“We’re not that old,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. But his annoyance fizzles out as he takes a drive down memory lane. His eyes trace over the picture of Sammy’s face, imposing a mental image of the gangly young adult he first met over the sharper planes of the man he knows now. “But, yeah, we met in a journalism class, and we were best friends in no time. It took my sister a little longer to warm up to him - he’s always trying to take care of people, and that’s the last thing that she wants from anyone. Not to mention she thinks he’s just a dumbass.”
“Is he a dumbass?” Ben asks, smiling like he already knows how Jack will answer.
“Oh, definitely,” Jack says easily. He shakes himself out of his reverie and puts his phone away again as he keeps talking. “But, I mean, he’s my dumbass, so…”
“God, how do you make even that sound gooey?” Ben complains.
“I think it’s sweet,” Emily says. “I mean… we can really hear it, you know?”
Jack looks at her questioningly. “Hear…?”
“How much you love him,” She says simply, but sincerely. “And how much you miss him.”
He can’t look at her after she says that. He ends up staring into the soft brown of his drink, the way he only has it here because it’s the only time of his day where he slows down enough to care.
“I do,” He whispers. ‘But that wasn’t enough, and that may not be enough’ He doesn’t add. He loves Sammy, but that didn’t stop Jack from turning him away. He misses Sammy, but Jack’s the reason he’s lost at all. Jack’s here, and Sammy’s there, and his feelings and intentions back then and right now are meaningless until he can do something real with them.
But tonight is supposed to be a step toward that. He’s done something he and Sammy had always dreamed of being brave enough to do. He can have more eyes and ears now, maybe even warn potential victims before it’s too late. He barely knows what he’s getting into, or how big it could end up being, but at least he won’t be completely alone now. He doesn’t trust himself to handle it alone, but he also doesn’t want to make the same mistakes with new people.
He’ll be careful, this time. He can’t afford to be anything less.
On one side of him, Ben puts a hand on his shoulder. On the other, Emily rests her hand on his arm. They’re warm and present and, for better or worse, Jack is too. He has to make that count.