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It was months later and she had almost forgotten it all, filed it away as unexplained and compartmentalized, when she heard him speak.
She could tell it was him instantly, the way that voice had imprinted in her memories.
“It's not a big deal, alright?” her head swiveled instantly to find him and she stared.
He was one table over, sitting with a couple of friends. She watched as he got to his feet, a nondescript, tall, barely legal looking guy with laughing eyes and brown hair. “I'm getting another drink,” he said to the other two, and her heart skipped a beat. “You want one?”
He headed to the bar after that. She rose as if on autopilot, stuffing her book back into her purse.
She didn't know what she was doing or what she was going to say as she walked towards him. It took every ounce of will power she had to call out to him. “Jax?”
His response gave him away, he turned around like he had seen a ghost, or, in his case, heard one. He blinked and stared down at her. “... Pomni..?” he asked, the hesitant question drifting in the air between them.
She smiled and took another step towards him. “I… is that… does that mean it was…” real.
Real, or a shared dream, or something. Months of horror and… and friendship, companionship. Friends in a foxhole, she remembered her dad saying once. The pull she felt towards him inside the Circus was still strong, but this was just another human being. What if…
But then his face split in a wide grin and he spread his arms wide.
She hated touch, hated it, but Jax felt like safety back in the Circus. He did again as she came face first with a wide human chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, lifted her up. She instantly kicked and he laughed as he put her down again.
His face was alive, alight with curiosity as he looked her up and down. “You actually look about what I expected,” he said.
“What's that supposed to mean?” she said as she climbed up onto the bar stool beside him.
Even how he turned to lean on the counter was the same as Jax used to lean on, well, everything. He shrugged, still grinning, and oh the memories made her chest ache. “I dunno,” he said. “Short,” he reached out and tugged a lock of her hair gently. “Straight brown hair,” his eyes skipped down to her blouse and slacks. “Less colorful though.”
“I just got off work,” she replied with a shrug. She took in his clothes that were considerably less formal. Ripped jeans and a graphic t-shirt, yeah, that fit. “You?”
He accepted a glass of honey colored beer from the bartender. “You want one?” When she shook her head no he took a sip and continued. “I'm a QA tester. You know, video games and stuff.”
She gasped at that. “So do you know -”
He cut her off before she could begin. “No. I have no idea what it was. It was less than a day, Pom. I wasn't missing or nothing. I just…” he waved a hand at his head. “I got all these memories is all.”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah,” she replied with considerable disappointment, staring at her ungloved hands. They were so different that her gloved circus hands. “Same here.”
He inhaled deeply and let it out again. “Jack,” he said after a moment.
She looked up again. “Pardon?”
The flash of a grin was back. “My name,” he replied. “It's not legally that, but I've been going by Jack since I got back - or whatever happened to me… to us - happened,” he looked momentarily confused and cleared his throat.
She nodded in understanding. It was upsetting to have memories and not know how they came to be. “Grace,” she replied.
He snorted. “Boring,” he said.
“It's my name, asshole,” she returned, and he laughed out loud.
He downed about half of his drink in one go and brought it back down on the counter. He shifted it back and forth for a moment, then looked up again. “Wanna get out of here?” he asked.
Now that he was here, she realized very quickly that she didn't want to let him go. Saying goodbye would be just that. “My place, or yours?” she asked, trying to sound confident and failing completely.
He blinked and seemed surprised for a moment. “I dunno,” he said. “Do you have roommates?”
She shook her head no.
“Then yours,” he pushed away from the bar, only pausing to slap a ten down on the counter to pay for the drink. He nodded over at the two men left at his table and then, horror of horrors, offered his arm to her.
She stared at him blankly.
He recovered, laughed, and slung an arm around her shoulders, leading her towards the door.
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She tried not to feel nervous as she drove them both towards her apartment. He was still Jax, despite the lack of rabbit ears and purple. It was like watching an actor play another actor - he had all the mannerisms and little tics of habit that she was used to. He gazed out the car window, humming softly to himself from time to time, his leg jiggling in a way that seemed almost unconscious.
He caught her glancing at him as she stopped at a light and flashed her another grin. “You’re going to crash if you keep staring.”
“I'm not,” she felt her cheeks heat as she focused back on the road. “I'm just getting used to… you know. You.”
His voice was gentle when he spoke again. “Yeah, I mean, I'm not a big purple rabbit, and you're not a jester. It does take a bit to get used to.”
She giggled and the tension broke a little.
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She felt the nerves start to itch at her again as she let them into her small apartment. It was clean, thankfully, she hadn't completely slipped up while dealing with the memories that made her wonder if she was losing her mind. Before just now in the bar she had been about to write the entire thing off as being a bad dream.
Her cat came padding into the hall demanding food and Jax (Jack, not Jax) leaned down to pet him. Mr. Bond was a tuxedo cat that looked very prim and proper… she had inherited him from an ex, years before.
It was the last time she had had a man in her apartment.
She buzzed about, going into the bathroom and grabbing a spare toothbrush that was still in its packaging. “You can use this,” she said, placing it on the sink counter.
He held up his hands. “Whoa, slow down there, Pompom. Who said I was staying the night?”
She stared at him and realized they definitely did not discuss anything of the sort.
He grinned as she stood there and tried to figure out what to say. “Don't worry,” he said, coming over and knocking her shoulder casually. “I'll stay,” he turned towards her living area and flopped down on the couch. “Just so you know, I don't put out on the first date," he added.
She squeaked at that and felt her face go red. "This isn't a date!” she protested. “I just found you again, and I wanted - I wanted -" the words wouldn't come because she didn't know what she wanted. “I don't know,” she finished, very confused. She rallied. “I don't want to… just lose you again. What are the chances I'd even find you in the first place?”
His eyebrow twitched up. “Well, if we are all from the same city, I'd say medium to high?”
“I - I guess,” she drifted closer, and he reached out, tugging on her sleeve.
“Come here,” he said. She hesitated and he smiled, genuinely, his eyes warm. “I won't be an asshole, I promise,” he added.
That made her smile back. “Sure,” she replied, with skepticism in her voice.
“I swear!” he pressed a hand to his chest. “I don't need to be any more.”
She rolled her eyes and sat beside him. “You didn't need to be in the first place,” she retorted.
“Mmm, says you,” he jostled her shoulder again. “Tell me about yourself,” he continued. “I wanna know all about Grace.”
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