Chapter Text
Everything was so normal.
It was almost funny. Everything being normal is what made it abnormal. It wasn’t Jack’s normal, but it was the world’s normal. Jack’s abnormal, a regular’s normal.
Weird.
He tried not to think about it too much. He tried not to think about how he could suddenly sleep, even if it was with the influence of medication. He tried not to think about how the scar on his wrist occasionally throbbed with pain that shouldn’t exist. He tried not to think about how O’Brien looked at him the same way she’d look at any civilian. It was a lot to ignore, and a lot to get used to.
Jack sighed as he shut the door behind him. He slid all the locks in place until the door was secure. He paused for a moment, before actually turning around and heading further into his home.
“I’m home,” he called out as he slid his backpack off his shoulders and down his arm.
Entering the living room with his good hand holding the straps of his pack, there he spotted him: Jerry. He was lounging on the couch, feet kicked up on the table with colorful “Friendship is Magic” socks. Various emptied bags of snacks littered the couch and floor. There was also a half empty bottle of tequila, and Jerry sat at the center of the couch with a game controller in his hand. The TV played that one ripoff of “Super Smash Bros” that Jerry floored him at. The room smelled strongly of cigarettes.
Jerry looked over and grinned. Without looking to the television, he paused it and looked towards Jack. “Brought my goods?” He asked, but the expression on his face told Jack he already knew the answer.
Jack couldn’t stop the small smile that pulled at his sunken face. He set his backpack on the armrest of the chair, and tried to ignore Jerry leaning closer to it. Fumbling through a novel, his phone and laptop, as well as his wallet, Jack finally found what he was looking for. Victoriously, he pulled out and tossed the pack of Malboros to Jerry. “You still owe me.”
Jerry pouted cartoonishly as he caught the pack in his palms. “Employee tab?” He asked, the pour quickly turning into a smirk.
Jack didn’t say anything as he zipped up his pack.
“Employee discount?” Jerry tried again, leaning so close he practically was laying on his side.
Jack raised a brow. He hated being stingy, but the gas station was still doing less than ideal. “I’ll think about it,” he settled. Jerry hummed, satisfied, as he sat back up and started fishing around in the couch cushions for his lighter. Deciding not to mention that potential fire hazard, Jack sat on the couch next to Jerry.
The blonde pulled a lighter from the depths of the couch cushions and got to lighting the first Marlboro cigarette of the pack. “You need a shower,” he bluntly stated as he brought the cigarette to his lips.
Jack paused, a little confused.
When was the last time he showered? He leaned further back into the couch, blankly staring at nothing as his mind tried to grasp at newly made holes. The Guardian was kind enough to fill in some, but it was the mental equivalent of those videos where they stuff a hole or dent with ramen and paint over it. He knew the big changes, but he hadn’t showered for over six weeks since his mini war with the mimics (and he assumed splashing himself with the water from the bathroom sink didn’t count). His brows furrowed as he tried thinking about the inbetweens. But the more he dug the more he found that metaphorical painted ramen rather than memories. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate, the last time he laid in bed, he couldn’t even remember what was in the fridge.
The more he thought, the more he remembered why he didn’t want to think. The more his mind drifted, the more everything felt like static on a television, and the more his hands subconsciously started to grip at his legs in a feeble attempt at grounding himself.
His thoughts abruptly halted when smoke got blown in his face. It clung to and burnt his throat, causing him to explode into a coughing fit. He bent over hacking, all while Jerry smiled to himself and returned to his game. The coughs and the burning quickly subsided, and Jack slowly sat back up and looked at the blonde in confusion.
“Looks like you really need that shower now,” he grinned, earning a swift pillow to the face from Jack.
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Jack huffed, standing up and starting the slow retreat upstairs. He didn’t look back to see Jerry’s face, he knew it would be smug.
So he retreated to the bathroom.
The first thing he did was take off his jacket. His clean jacket. It should be clean, but he knew better. He had gotten it ruined before. Yet now it sat on the bathroom floor, wrinkled and only a little worse for wear. He continued the process of stripping down, saving the prosthetic leg for last. Sitting down on the toilet, he rolled down the sock and liner and popped the leg off. Jack couldn’t help but wince as his stump was freed from the prosthetic. It stung, not horribly, but he didn’t need to look to tell there was a nasty sore. Like the intelligent and responsible amputee he was, he elected to ignore it and delicately set the prosthetic against the counter. He continued by rolling off his sock and liner and proceeded to toss them on the floor with the rest of his clothes.
Finally he could use the shower. He grabbed the single crutch he still kept around, which now usually laid against the bathroom wall or on his bedroom’s carpet. He didn’t care if it was less than a foot away, the crutch made it easier to get in and out of the shower, even if he stuck a shitty chair in there for similar reasons. Once he was in, he changed the water to hot and let it warm up as he set the crutch against the wall and sat down in the mentioned shitty chair.
The water was cold at first. It made him flinch as it struck his thin body. He closed his eyes, letting it run in his hair, down his face, and down his body. He let it cleanse the clotted and wet blood from his mangled hair and form that wasn’t there. It was a bizarre experience, feeling the grime and blood from a past time roll down your body when you knew they weren’t there. It was healing. It was painful. Even as the cold drops turned lukewarm, he couldn’t stop shivering. He pulled his newly scarred hand to his mouth, and for some reason felt tears joining the water.
He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t want to think about why. He just wanted to be clean. Free of the blood and mud that cling to his psyche once it couldn’t stay on his skin. The water stayed lukewarm as he trembled and quietly cried. He cried until his throat burned and his eyes stung. He cried until the water felt cold once again.
He only started cleaning himself and his hair once the water was freezing. He tried to ignore how his fingers got caught in matted hair chunks, and he tried not to focus on how much longer it took the usual because there was more hair than he was used to. At some point it had started growing past his shoulders. He had a mullet now. He grimaced, tear streaks now wiped away by the shower water, and continued. His hair still felt gross and unkempt even after four runs with conditioner. Despite his body and skin looking rather clean, he still scrubbed every inch of himself with a brand new bar of soap until his skin felt raw and it looked pink.
He still didn’t feel clean.
He was still shivering.
Jack decided to give up. Turning off the shower, he proceeded to dry himself off and wrap himself in a towel since the thought of bringing clothes slipped his mind. He took his crutch and carefully stepped out of the shower. He’d come back later for his clothes and leg, currently he had one hand keeping up the towel and the only using his crutch.
He opened the door and was surprised to see a pile of clothes dumped outside it. He recognized them immediately: “Leroy’s” white shirt, classily decorated with googly eyes and a pair of black sweatpants. They were both multiple sizes too big, but Jerry was also kind enough to leave Jack a pair of underwear (Jack decided to look positively at that and not at the fact Jerry was snooping through there).
He smiled again. His cheeks ached with a familiarity he hadn’t felt since her. He changed into the clothes immediately.
As expected, the clothes were far too big for Jack’s scrawny and short body, but it was strangely comfortable. It was warm and felt like wearing a blanket rather than cheap fabric. Cheeks still aching and the stupid smile on his face, he used his crutch to walk to his room, now carrying the leg and important accessories as well.
Everything felt dirty and confusing still, but Jerry’s clothing was surprisingly effective at distracting Jack from it. And Jack couldn’t stress enough how excited he was to finally say this: he could finally fucking sleep the worries away and pretend it was a bad hangover.
Jack was back at the gas station. He barely got any sleep that night before he had to go back. Still, sleep was sleep. He fixed himself the second cup of coffee for the morning, having downed the first one before the new employee, Benji, even left.
The man was a decent worker, Jack had to admit. Lacked people skills, but at least he actually brews new pots and empties the trash. Jack started with all the regular stuff: checking stock, organizing and fixing up displays, ignoring spots to clean so he’d have something to do later, counting Benji’s till, checking for any gnomes, and taking a stick and poking dead bugs in the gas station tar pit.
After all his important management stuff was done, he sat at the counter and pulled out one of the books Brother Riley had given him. He tried not to think too hard about how he still had that collection, but he wasn’t complaining. He had a book and a distraction, and that was all he needed.
Until a crash was heard from across the station. Sighing, Jack closed his book and got up. He eyed Ricardio who sat patiently behind the counter, before propping the bat up. “I’ll be back,” he explained to Ricardio— his best cashier. He would be more than fine by himself, the morning rush wouldn’t start for a few hours. So Jack walked down the gas station, passing aisles and mystery stains until he reached the supply closet. The door was slightly open, and he tilted his head.
Not good, but not awful either.
The door snapped fully open a second later, crashing into the wall so aggressively Jack was sure that it should’ve snapped off the hinges. An involuntary gasp and step back triggered with Jack as he held up his hands— which were now curled into tight and trembling fists. Super Defense Mode had activated within half a second, and Jack watched as adrenaline coursed through his body as a large raccoon hissed and ran out the door and past Jack’s feet. His head abruptly followed, and he watched it continue to scamper off and out the back door of the gas station.
The adrenaline fading and his body relaxing, Jack allowed himself to breathe as he calmed down. Right. The Guardian has fixed mostly everything. Things have been normal. Why don’t you act normal? He told himself as he approached the door and began fumbling through keys. Once he found the ones to the back door, he locked it and made a mental note to remind Benji to keep it locked.
He slowly turned back around to trudge back towards the supply closet. He couldn’t help but grumble to himself as he thought about the potential damage that trash panda did to his emergency stashes. They were far from cheap, and he wasn’t sure if he couldn’t even afford replacing one. Stepping into the supply closet, he found all of the boxes exactly as they were before. They are all untouched. But that wasn’t what caught his attention.
Jack’s eyes were drawn to a small garden gnome that sat in the direct center of the supply closet. It was in pristine condition, completely untouched by the gas station’s infamous grime. He frowned at the sight. Great. Back to this again. He scooped up the gnome to bring it to the others.
Shutting the door behind him, he began returning to the counter to relieve Ricardio of his duties. But there was a customer standing on the other side of the register. Not just any customer. Jack cocked his head to the side, confusion and irritation building up in his chest as he stared in front of him.
The customer finally noticed Jack and turned his head to greet him. He grinned at Jack’s narrowed eyes.
“Hey there, homie.”