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“To die, to sleep—to sleep, perchance to dream.” - Hamlet
—----
The same, again. always the same.
Jotaro strained to move his hands. This enemy taunted him in these dark woods. Foreign and cruel twisting branches against the sky like rotting hands reached for him. And there was that spasm again, that ache in his stomach that ran through his chest. “Shit.” He muttered. He managed to wipe away sweat that dripped like tears, the only real sign of his physical struggle.
“So what now, Kujo Jotaro? For days, you’ve struggled here.” She taunted him with a smile and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. He didn’t recognize her. But maybe she was the one that kept him here.
His stand. Beyond his reach. He tried to draw within himself, Star Platinum that used to manifest with no effort. Sometimes accidentally. Gone.
Not entirely though.
As if separated by oceans, by the roars of stirring tides, somewhere deep beyond it all he could feel Star Platinum working separate from himself. Apart from his control.
Even alone there was always his stand. And though he felt more alone than he had in years, the fact he could feel his stand at all, for the first time in days, made him feel like there might be a way out.
A sweeping kick to the head he couldn’t defend against in his exhausted state. Shadows. Piercing pain and drifting through muttering:
“STAR PLATINUM!”
Again, it didn’t appear. Yet he could feel it at the distant reaches of his consciousness. He went to move, and there was enough force in his arms that his bonds weakened as he forced his body into a crouch. The pain in his head remained, but there was no sign of… whoever that woman was.
He clenched his fist, and though he felt nothing where usually almost constant energy remained, he felt like he might… he reached one more time, twisted his hand to force his thumb into an unnatural position. His hand slipped through. With that free, there, he got his other hand loose.
Some kind of coarse vine… Jotaro glanced around for a rock, something to get his ankles free. Easy. And once he could stand, despite how exhausted he was, he had the energy to move, to slip away as far as possible. Somewhere shady and dull.
–
Was it minutes or months later when he stumbled? A glance back to the barren orange clay mountains. The sun blazed down against weak gray trees. And even when he lingered in the shade his eyes hurt and spots danced in his vision.
One of those spots… more like a silhouette getting closer. He went tense, trying to come up with a plan on how he could defend himself. Then he recognized the shape.
So drained of energy his legs could hardly support his own weight. “Jiji—“ his head hurt badly; Joseph caught him before he could fall. “Where are we?” He coughed and it felt like he might cough up blood. His guts. “My stand… Star Platinum.” its image flickered around him before vanishing again.
“You have to keep fighting.” Strangely serious. His scratchy gray beard. “You have your stand.”
“I'm alone.” All his weight fell on Joseph. He held his grandson steady. The musky smell of sweat soaking through his clothes. Fever?
“You’re strong, Jojo.”
Joseph carefully took Jotaro's hat off. Wiped the sweat off his forehead. Combed his hair back with his fingers. His touch was cool. His metal hand. He let Jotaro lean back against a tree. “You have your stand. You can protect yourself.”
“I’m lost here.” He put his hat back on. The hot pinks and reds of the mountain all drenched in sunlight hurt his eyes. He felt like hiding within his school uniform. His armor against the sun and this confusion. “Is it an enemy stand?”
Joseph crossed his arms. His muscles strained at his shirt and for half a second, it was almost like Jotaro could see Joseph’s younger self still within him. Spiky brown hair and the stupid cropped shirt he'd seen in black and white photos, maybe more naive. Then he blinked and he saw Joseph as his regular old self. His granddad. Still full of energy, in a different way. “Not exactly. This is far worse. Something that has disabled you from within.”
The numb warmth in his hands and the fog in his mind. “How did I… where are we?” That splitting pain in his head again. “Ah… ouch.”
“Don’t force your memory. It won’t help. For now,” Joseph gestured at the mountain. “Protect yourself. You’re on your own, but you’re never truly alone, Jotaro.” Over Joseph’s shoulder Jotaro saw hazy forms of people he didn’t recognize. A guy with dark hair and a body builder’s physique. An older man with a mustache and nice, old-fashioned clothes. Another man, a soldier, air force. A blonde woman clutching her hands to her chest. Mom?
That young man’s face, full of concern, his fist clenched at his side. He looked Jotaro in his eyes, and nodded. His muscular bulk blotted out any painful light with a half smile. Jotaro stared him down, like looking in the mirror. Just less abrasive, more polite. Gentle.
“STAR PLATINUM.” Jotaro’s stand, solid, crisp, about to burst with raw energy, appeared beside him. The young man—Jonathan—smiled. And he and the other figures slipped away into the fog.
Joseph’s hand on his shoulder. “Keep fighting. Stand proud.”
“Whatever you say, old man.” Jotaro let a grin twitch across his lips and turned with a flourish of his black coat. He looked back over his shoulder, but Joseph was gone.
His stand waited, expecting direction, beside him, with no extra effort needed at all. A few fragments of thoughts shot through him—he closed his eyes and lit a cigarette. Didn’t he quit? Focus. The struggle to defend her, his daughter, Jolyne, losing, to what, and how, and he couldn’t remember… it slipped through his fingers.
He studied his surroundings. Another drag of smoke. Star Platinum ready for any threat. “I’ve got. To get back to Jolyne.” His hands felt heavy and distant and he still tried to move. His stand supported his arms. “What happened… Jolyne.”
——
“JOLYNE.”
The only word Kujo spoke in his coma. When he moved to an upright sitting position. The name of his daughter.
Speedwagon Foundation medical personnel grouped around a monitor. “There’s no logic to it…”
“She was the last person to have the disc holding his stand, and she was there when he was attacked.” A pen tapped against the metal desk loudly. “A stand ability?”
“What do you mean?”
The medics stared over at the man who spoke. The intern leaned against the window, watching over Kujo’s unconscious body. The room fell silent, and he scoffed:
“Jolyne’s his kid. Maybe that’s enough.”
——
Still tired. Fatigued. No longer hopeless… He dispatched any threats. Kept breathing. Fighting.
However long it takes, Jolyne. He rested at the edge of a bluff. A good viewpoint that could be easy to exit, and easy to defend. He never felt hungry, only a little thirsty. And his last couple packs of cigarettes never came up empty. He closed his eyes for a moment. You saved me, and I’ll get back to you.
Always something creeping towards him. Another opponent, another encounter. Shadowy nonsensical creatures with eyes like car headlights. At least he could destroy the creatures easily. Whatever they were… threats to his mind, his body. From one smoke to the next–he couldn’t sleep much. He wasn’t able to, and it was dangerous to stay in one place for too long. Jotaro didn’t want to sleep, he wanted out.
A sudden flash of light, a rumbling, that pain splitting his head in two. “GAHH—“
And it all came back. Flickering images shot through his vision, aching:
DIO. THE WORLD. The Crusaders. Losing his friends, saving his mom. Stand arrows. University. His wife. Work on the ocean. Morioh. Joseph’s greaser kid, DIO’s gangster son. Locking down threats. When he left
“No—Jolyne.” When he left her. And every unanswered phone call after.
And now:
Her, in and out of trouble. Now in prison. He went to get her out, of course danger would find her like it always found him. Of course leaving wouldn’t protect her. He was ready to take a bullet for her, anything, anything.
He tried, and that should’ve killed him. That pain, that physical loss he felt that shut his mind down with nothing looming beyond it. His stand, gone. She dragged him outside. Filled with fire in her eyes, some desperate rage and as he slipped into that darkness all he could do was hope Jolyne understood that he loved her.
“Hey dad, if you were going to name me now. Um. What would it be?”
“Jolyne. Like the song.”
He opened his eyes. Exhausted, but alive. Screaming white lights, medical equipment. His stand ready within reach to handle any threat. A hospital bed. All these lines running to his body. A steady beep reflecting his heart rate. He swung his legs over, feeling starting to return to his extremities.
The dream faded. He could still remember those figures, his family, and the death that loomed before him. Jotaro forced himself to his feet. Stumbled. Ripped free from the IV drip. Flashes of pain. The monitor flatlined as he pushed it all away.
“MR. KUJO!” A Speedwagon Foundation nurse rushed into the room. “He’s awake!” He grabbed Jotaro’s arms and it took an immense amount of willpower to keep from throwing him into the wall.
“I have to get out of here. My daughter…”
His words slurred together and as he tried to step forward he fell into the nurse. “You’ve been in a coma for months. You need to lie down.”
“Where is she?”
Other medical personnel swarmed in. “Ms. Cujoh wouldn’t let us pull her out of the prison. She’s fine. For now—“
He almost called for his stand. Instead he let himself be pulled back down and hooked up to the machines. Constant talking and noises. Questions and concerns. But he could only think about her. Something huge, dangerous, and miserable threatened them all. He could feel it. He murmured to himself, and wondered if she could somehow understand.
“I swear, Jolyne. I’ll be there.”