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He doesn't remember anything.
Not her, not himself. Not even his own son.
She's not sure if she's bothered more by this or the fact that she's even bothered by it in the first place. It doesn't feel like so long ago that she would've been glad to see this bastard forget her. Forget everything that made him who he was.
But now it hurts. She finds herself almost longing for when he'd ask her questions he knew he wouldn't understand the answers to just to know she was doing something. It was an annoying habit, but it was better than this. The way he'd stare at her blankly and the flicker of recognition would vanish faster than it had sparked. Answers were tangible only so long as they were out of reach and it was driving her insane.
It's dark, she notes with a distracted sigh and she can't help the soft smile that forms when she sees him passed out in a chair. He'd probably sat down to smoke and fallen asleep once he was done. Tentatively, she brushes a few stray hairs out of his face and pats him on the shoulder, "wake up, Jack..."
His eyes shoot wide and he glares at her for a moment, scrutinizing almost like a cornered wolf before his expression softens and he gives a tired grunt of acknowledgment, moving off to find somewhere more suitable to sleep.
One day he'll wake up for real.