Work Text:
Scribble scribble.
Jack kept writing. Not like there was much else to do.
Scribble scratch scratch.
It was a good enough hobby on its own, writing. Granted, it’s tough to write film scripts when you haven’t seen a movie (or really anything in motion) in half a year. But Jack’s gone up to the shops and back, taken a couple of books he found interesting. Those worked fine, none of the complexity of a machine. For whatever reason, simple things seemed to work in Jack’s grasp. His pencils and pens. The books. Food, from what he’d tried (although he admittedly hadn’t tried much. The appliances did not work— aside from the fridge, which is just meant to keep things cold, and the… oh, there was some joke there about frozen time. Whatever.)
Anyways. Insofar as it wasn’t too complex, it’d work as if nothing was wrong when Jack touched it.
He leaned more up against Kris’ side. Unmoving, he made a solid surface to sit against.
Scratch scratch. Scribble scratch scribble.
He wondered, idly, how Kris would feel when he came back to Jack and two previously empty notebooks now ratty and full of ideas and plotting and storyboards and scripts— there were even a few shot lists in there.
And that got Jack thinking about how he just… he had this assumption that time would catch up eventually. As usual, he tries to push it away because shut up, shut up shut up. But as usual, it lingers anyway.
Because what if it doesn’t? And he’s stuck here forever? Just an infinite cycle of waking up and eating and finding something to do and eating again and just keeping himself occupied until he’s tired enough to go back to sleep. Over and over until…
Until what?
He died?
Could he die?
Well, he wasn’t too keen on testing it out. What if time unfroze and he was just sat on the couch, dead? That wouldn’t be good for anyone.
But what was his alternative? He’d tried just about everything. Thought through the moment time paused—the moment he was stuck in—and analyzed it piece by piece. Kris was saying they had plenty more superpowers to try, Jack had scoffed, sipped his tea, burnt his tongue, complained about the heat, then— well… then it was now. Forever. Somewhere within his notebooks, he’d written a little list of possible causes. All now crossed out, of course. Quite clearly, they hadn’t worked.
He wasn’t getting anywhere with this script, obviously, since he kept getting distracted. So he set the notebook down.
He looked out the door, as if it’d tell him anything. It was appallingly bright as ever.
Maybe he should eat. Wasn’t much else to do.
“I’m getting something to eat,” he announced, standing. Kris didn’t respond, obviously. Jack had made a habit of talking to him on occasion anyway. Paradoxically, it assured him he wasn’t going crazy, because Kris never talked back.
Jack walked to the kitchen. There wasn’t a lot of food left—nothing he could prepare without the stove, anyway. He was fresh out of bread for sandwiches, no more cereal either. That severely limited his options. The cupboard was all but empty and the fridge was well on its way.
Damn. Well.
He ought to walk to the shops again. Maybe try out some of that fancy, expensive lunch meat, since they didn’t really have to pay for anything. But he didn’t feel like doing that right now.
He looked in the cupboard. Then the fridge. Back in the cupboard.
He looked at the freezer.
Did he dare?
… Might as well.
He opened the freezer. In comparison, it was decently well stocked, because he couldn’t exactly prepare anything in there. But it had him thinking— there wasn’t anything wrong with the food, right? It was just cold. Aside from the raw meat, obviously. And… well, actually, he wasn’t sure about eating most of this. He leaned down to dig around, see what he could eat. No. No… Maybe? Probably not. No…
In the back of the freezer was an open pack of freezer-burnt meat pies.Which… yeah, not Jack’s first choice, but… the meat’s pre-cooked, right? So… it’s fine.
Is he really about to do this?
Well. This was probably one of less stupid things he’d done in the past few months, to be honest.
Basically the second Jack bit into the pie, he regretted it. He didn’t even take a bite out of it— he got past the bread, but the meat was solid as a rock, and the whole thing was cold as shit. So cold it hurt his teeth.
He spit it out, sputtered a bit. Okay, stupid idea, thanks, fugue brain. What the hell… the stupid meat pie was making his ears ring or something. Eugh. That was unpleasant. He wasn’t used to hearing anything at all.
He went to throw the pie away, but heard something else.
He paused, straining his ears, because that couldn’t have been…
“What in the world?” he heard. “Jack?”
Oh, okay. So he’s finally cracked up.
Despite his insistence that it would happen someday, it took Jack’s brain a second to think that time could’ve actually resumed.
Experimentally, he let go of the meat pie. It fell through the air and hit the ground with a dull sound. A clatter of some kind came from the living room, Kris calling out again “Jack? What the hell—?”
What the hell… yeah.
Jack, ironically, was frozen.
“Jack?” Kris was moving, Jack could hear it. “Where— where’ve you gone? Aw, don’t tell me you can teleport too, I was feeling special.”
Jack tried to take deep breaths. He’d planned what to do when this happened, but suddenly all that was wiped away. And he was stuck.
The ringing in his ears wasn’t ringing. It was the hum of the fridge and the air conditioner and the lights and everything else his brain usually forgot made a sound. He could hear. Things were happening.
Kris walked into the kitchen, furrowing his brow at Jack’s state.
“Uh,” he said. “Jack—?”
Jack finally found it in himself to move, a revelation that he used to immediately launch himself at Kris in what was more akin to a tackle than a hug. Kris seemed confused by this. Jack didn’t really care.
He’d hugged Kris in the past months, on occasion. When the loneliness got particularly bad. But it didn’t usually help— typically it just reminded Jack that Kris was still as a corpse.
But now he wasn’t. As Kris awkwardly patted Jack’s back, he was breathing, his heart was beating, he was there. Actually there.
“You, uh…” Kris said, clearing his throat. “You alright?”
That turned Jack’s brain on again. He pulled back and gripped Kris’ shoulders with the force of a man who’d forgotten how his strength affects the things around him. Kris stared at him, bewildered.
“I can stop time,” he announced. He had some kind of monologue prepared for this moment, but now he figured he should just cut to the chase.
“Wh—” Kris blinked. “Wait, really?”
“Yes. God—” Jack took a deep breath. “It’s been… I think it’s been eight months. For me.”
“Oh,” Kris blinked again. “That’s a long time.”
That made Jack laugh. It was a little manic— or, scratch that, it was quite manic— but, really? He deserves a bit of mania, he thought.
Kris laughed as well after a moment. He tilted his head slightly.
“You, uh… you look…” Jack watched as Kris fumbled for his words. “Uh… not a day over— something.”
“Uh-huh,” Jack raised an eyebrow, “You can say I look like shit, mate.”
“Ah, well—” Kris faltered. It made Jack laugh again. “I mean, I wouldn’t put it like that.”
“How would you put it?”
“Eh… you could use a shower.”
Jack hugged Kris again. This surprised him, again, but he at least seemed more receptive this time. They didn’t really hug like this very often, Jack wasn’t really the type for it. It’s crazy what the better part of a year in solitary confinement can do to a guy.
“So, uh…” Kris said, still holding Jack in a proper hug. “How was your little vacation?”
“Hm. The novelty wore off after a couple weeks,” Jack said. He’s still in shock, he thought. The full gravity of the world starting to turn again would hit him later. “I got a couple scripts done, though.”
Kris laughed a somewhat baffled laugh.
“Really? I guess if there’s any way to make someone productive…”
Jack scoffed, “Sure, I guess.”
Some time passed. And boy, wasn’t that relieving to think about.
After a minute or two or fuck knows how long, Kris spoke up.
“Is that my robe?”
… And Jack immediately detached himself.
“I think I’ll go take a shower.”
As Jack quickly made his way to the bathroom, Kris chuckled behind him.
“No, wait— how long’ve you been wearing that?”
“I’ve made a bit of a mess, feel free to tidy up!” Jack responded.
“We’re havin’ a talk about this!” Kris called out, but he was still laughing, so Jack wasn’t too bothered. He shut the bathroom door behind him, and looked into the mirror. It was different than he’d gotten used to. The noises still threw him off… the appliances, and Kris walking about, and— if he strained his ears— the cars driving past outside.
Man… all those people going to the shops, getting off work, whatever. Not a clue what just happened.
…
Later. It’d hit him later.
For now, he just turned on the shower, and made sure it wasn't too hot.