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“Are you smoking?” a small, astonished voice asks.
Jet glances down at the kid with a shock of neon green hair. They look a little older than Jet was when he first came to live at a place like this, but young enough that he feels an immediate responsibility to keep them safe while they’re out here alone.
“No,” he replies, taking a final drag before saving the rest of his roll-up for later.
“Liar,” the kid smirks, bouncing on their heels. “I saw you.”
“No you didn’t, ‘cause there’s nothing to see.”
In truth, he needs the buzz to face going inside. After months of visits, he should be used to it by now, but it’s still a struggle to push himself through the door and face what he needs to face.
“Corrupting my youth again, Jet Star?” Silver Vow asks, appearing in the doorway like an apparition. They gesture to the kid, voice softening fractionally. “Get inside, boy, before the sun gets you.”
“No way!” the boy replies. “They’ll never get me!”
Then he runs inside, leaving them both to the dust and heat outside of the Angel House.
Jet holds up his hands, smirking softly.“The kid had the attitude when I found it. The Girl’d get along with him.”
“I bet,” Silver Vow replies, crossing their arms. “You should bring her someday. Plenty of kids around to keep her company while you visit.”
Jet hums. “Yeah, maybe.”
They’ve been over this before, so Silver Vow doesn’t push the issue, though Jet can see them itching to say something. He understands their logic. The more you can integrate a person with their old crew or loved ones, the better the outcome of their recovery. But what does that mean for The Girl, who’s been shielded from the worst of what BLI/nd has to offer so far in her short life?
Still, maybe enough time has passed. He changes his mind on it between every visit.
“How’s he been today?” Jet asks as Silver Vow leads him inside.
This Angel House isn’t like the one Jet grew up in, which was a patchwork building built up from the rubble BL/ind left behind. It’s a repurposed school from the days when the desert was filled with that sort of thing and there were enough kids to populate them.
Silver Vow walks with the authority of someone who rarely has to assert it anymore. They’ve been working and living here for as long as the Angel House has been in operation, so they’re practically part of the furniture. Hence the streaks of silver lining their hair.
“He’s been well,” Silver Vow answers neutrally. It’s always a struggle to parse what exactly they mean unless it’s a really bad day, in which case they speak plainly. “Got excited when you radioed you were coming, but then he was upset about having the wait.”
“Had to go around patrols,” Jet mumbles, a pang of guilt going off in his chest.
It feels like a pitiful excuse for leaving his friend hanging.
“He calmed down after lunch,” Silver Vow says, waving him off.
They’ve told him repeatedly how useless emotions like guilt and regret are when it comes to recovery.
What’s done is done, they told him. And now we live with what’s been done.
They head through to the den, an area so crowded with couches and blankets and pillows that there’s basically no option but to relax into it. The curtains are sheer, allowing a warm glow to fill the room instead of the harsh white light of the sun.
“Fun Ghoul,” Silver Vow calls, lowering their voice as they rap their knuckles on the door.
It’s not just out of politeness either, some of the other residents are extremely jumpy and they appreciate the warning when someone new enters.
Ghoulie, on the other hand, barely reacts, even when another worker leaves the room at Silver Vow’s beckoning. He makes a quiet noise, close to a huff, and remains curled up on the couch, watching a tiny figurine spin around in a box that emits a little tune.
“Someone from Pixie’s crew brought it last week,” Silver Vow confides. “She wasn’t interested, but he’s very attached.”
Jet sets a mental reminder to thank Pixie’s crew when he next sees them, which probably will be soon since they visit often. There’s six of them in total and it’s a fun time when they all come together to visit her, so hopefully they’ll be back again as a group.
Then he remembers that it’s just him here to see Ghoul, and his crew is back at the diner several zones away, and he feels bad all over again.
They do have different problems. Pixie Heart sees and hears things that aren’t there, and not just on occasion like Party, but all the time. She often has outburts and tries to run off, altogether acting much more disruptively than Ghoulie, but her crew still comes to see her all the time, whereas Jet struggles to summon the will.
“Okay,” Jet says, letting out a held breath as he takes in Ghoul’s relaxed position, only off-set by the furrow in his brow as he focuses on the figurine. “I think we’re good here then.”
Silver Vow nods, taking in the situation one last time before turning to leave.
“Call me if you need anything, yes?”
“Yeah,” Jet replies, entirely focused on Ghoul who hasn’t even noticed his presence.
Quietly, Jet pads across the room, aided by the thick rugs beneath him, and sits down in front of Ghoul, not blocking the view of his box but entering his field of vision.
They’ve had Ghoul back for six months now but it’s still a shock when his eyes flit up to Jet, hazy yet very much alive. Jet spent so long convinced that he would never meet that gaze again. He’d go the rest of his life without seeing the complex myriad of emotions that live within it.
That was unbearable. No matter how bad things might seem now, nothing can convince him that was better.
As always, Ghoul takes a while to register the change in his environment. Once he processes that someone is in the room with him, he takes in Jet’s face, and Jet allows himself to be stared at until something clicks and a smile spreads across Ghoul’s face.
He hums, reaching out for Jet’s eyepatch as if to reaffirm what he’s seen before. The injury that took Jet out of commission while Ghoul was being captured. Jet lets him get close, but Ghoul pulls away, never touching.
“Hey, Ghoulie,” Jet says, trying to keep his volume low. “What’re you up to?”
Ghoul doesn’t reply right away. He buries his head against the pillow and makes another happy noise before his attention is drawn back to the music box.
“Ghoulie,” Jet tries again, leaning his head against the arm of the couch. “What’re you doing, sparkie?”
He blinks at Jet, squinting in a way that lets Jet know he’s thinking hard.
Finally, he answers in a raspy mumble, “Listenin’.”
“Yeah?” Jet replies, smiling because it’s never a guarantee that Ghoul will be up for talking during his visits. “I like the tune.”
Ghoul hums his agreement. “Not bad.”
They stay in companiable silence for a while, the song providing a calming backdrop to their interactions. After a minute, Ghoul reaches out, missing Jet’s wrist then tries again and pulls him closer.
Jet catches on to what he’s doing and lays his hand on Ghoul’s head, gently running his fingers through his hair. He can’t help but feel for the rougher skin on Ghoul’s temples when the electrodes were placed, a permanent reminder of how often they were attempting to fry Ghoul’s brain.
Really, with all things considered, it’s a miracle Ghoul is even here right now.
At first, none of them thought he had survived the initial clap. Party was the only one who kept their ear to the ground, repeatedly telling them that they felt Ghoul was out there rather than incinerated by some BL/ind employee somewhere.
Privately, Jet wondered if this was because they didn’t have a mask or ray gun to bring to the Witch’s Mailbox, making it impossible for her to find Ghoul’s soul and lead it to the afterlife. He thought Party was sensing Ghoul’s spirit, wandering lost in the static for the rest of time.
By the time they got word from another escapee that Ghoul was alive, held in one of BL/ind’s most secure re-education centers, two months had already gone by.
It was another seven before they got in, cashing in every favour they’d accumulated during their lives in the desert and still losing a few Killjoys who helped them along the way. Another thing for Jet to feel guilty over, even though he’d have traded a dozen more for Ghoul’s safe return.
Nine months is a long time for a Killjoy to be held in one of those centers. Most are either quickly reconditioned or, if that fails, just as quickly disposed of. But Ghoulie got neither. Months of drugging, electrocution and isolation did not turn him against his fellow Killjoys, nor did they kill him.
Kobra has theorised that, given their crew’s infamy across the Zones, they wanted to make an example of Ghoul, to prove that even the worst of them can be reconditioned, so they were persistent.
It didn’t work, Jet reminds himself. And yet Ghoul is very far from unscathed.
The music and the figure come to an abrupt stop and Ghoul’s eyes dart back to the box as a low whine builds in his throat.
“Hey, it’s alright,” Jet says, grabbing the box from the low table. “Here, it’s easy.”
He winds up the box and the music starts again. Ghoul immediately settles down and Jet remembers that, while it’s easy for him, Ghoul couldn’t work out how to get the box working again. He suddenly feels unsure of the project he’s brought along in his bag, but he leaves it for now.
“Thank you,” Ghoul mumbles quietly, one of the stock phrases Silver Vow has been helping him with.
When he first used it in front of Jet, he had to excuse himself to have a mini celebration, but progress has stalled since then. Appatently that’s normal too, but Jet doesn’t have to like it.
Ghoul shuffles up on the couch and Jet takes the hint to join him. He leave some space between them so as not to crowd Ghoulie, but then he’s leaning into Jet’s arms, causing him to chuckle as he just about manages to prevent him from falling onto the floor.
His vest rides up as he does this and Jet’s eyes are drawn to the pinkish scar above his waistline. A final parting gift from BLI/nd, and a scar that connects him to many other escaped Killjoys.
They noticed it a few years ago, this scar repeatedly showing up across any captured Killjoy with a uterus, and word quickly spread through the Zones. Dr. D soon confirmed it. The organ had been removed entirely.
Down the hall, the shrieks of children playing drift through to them. If BL/ind had it their way, their generation would be the last. The Killjoys would finally die out like the vermin they are. Maybe they’ll succeed, but Jet doubts it somehow. They are nothing if not persistent.
Still, that doesn’t help Ghoulie. He might never have wanted another kid, The Girl is a handful after all, but now he’ll never have that choice.
Jet pets his hair, comforting himself as well as Ghoulie, who gazes up at him with utter trust and faith.
Since the beginning, Jet has wondered how much Ghoul actually remembers of him, or if he has just held on to the general notion that Jet is someone he feels safe and happy around. Silver Vow has assured him that Ghoul has little trouble holding onto new memories, which is apparently a good sign as it means his old ones might come back to him in time.
But not all of the damage is reversible. This is another point they have drilled into him repeatedly.
When Ghoulie’s stomach rumbles, Jet pauses his ministrations.
“Hey, are you hungry?” This question doesn’t elicit much of a response so Jet tries another way. “Do you wanna get something to eat?”
Ghoul makes a noise that sounds like agreement and this is confirmed when he swings his legs off the couch. Jet hurries to help him find his balance as he stands since he’s liable to fall otherwise.
In the kitchen, Jet rummages around for something to make them both, ignoring the children running around underfoot until he sees the way Ghoul’s eyes track them, appearing to brighten for a moment.
Jet smiles, turning back to the pot just as Ghoul speaks again.
“Girlie.”
He stops, hand on the ladle, as he waits for Ghoul to say something else. When he doesn’t, Jet shakes himself out of it, pouring a bowl for Ghoul and nothing for himself.
“Here you go,” he offers with a shaky smile, sitting beside Ghoul on the round table. “Do you need a hand?”
“Want Girlie,” Ghoul says, frowning at the bowl before his gaze starts roaming around the room.
This isn’t new either. He doesn’t always realise that thinking about a person hard enough won’t make them appear. Jet can’t help but think about Ghoulie all alone in whatever cell BL/ind was keeping him in, no-one for company but the memories already fracturing in his head.
“I know,” Jet answers with a sigh when Ghoul repeats himself again.
The trace of distress in his tone ramps up as he calls for her again, pushing back from the table.
“Just finish this first,” Jet pleads as calmly as he can. “Then we’ll talk about it.”
“But—” Ghoul’s words catch in his throat before he can get any more of them out.
He settles in the chair, but his eyes well with tears that drip easily down his cheeks. For someone who used to be so robust, refusing to cry unless he was alone or absolutely unable to hold it together, it’s painful to watch Ghoul crumble so easily. His emotions run so much higher these days, and he can rarely tamper them down when they do.
All Jet can do is rub what he hopes to be soothing circles in his back, watching Ghoul take tiny, tentative bites. A few of his teeth were broken when they rescued him, so he can only eat soft foods, but Ghoul struggles to keep even those down. He’s barely gained any weight since getting out as a result.
“Hey,” Jet begins, flailing around for something that will cheer Ghoulie up. “Kobra said he’s gonna head down for a couple days soon. I think he’s got a derby next week, but then he’ll be on his way.”
The corners of Ghoul’s mouth quirk up at that, almost a smile, but then his face falls again.
“Girlie.”
He gets stuck on these things, unable to move on from a topic for hours sometimes. Jet bites his lip, thinking hard.
“Okay,” he says. “Yeah, I’ll ask if he’ll bring her. Would that be okay?”
Ghoul glances up at him, smiling serenely like he’s already moving on from whatever he was upset about.
Maybe it’s a bad idea, but it’s hard to keep that in mind when it clearly makes Ghoul feel better. They’ve told The Girl some of what Ghoul went through with BL/ind but spared her the details, she’s been asking after him almost as much as Ghoul has her, but he’ll need to go into greater detail now. Jet does not look forward to that.
Just then, one of the workers chases after a kid who’s somehow got their hands on a circuit board. He trips over the welcome mat on his way out the door and falls flat on his face.
Ghoul’s burst of laughter startles Jet, who smiles his way before helping the poor guy up.
“That funny to you?” Jet asks, ruffling Ghoul’s hair. “You’re still such an asshole, Ghoulie.”
He smiles at that, but pretty soon he’s yawning. Even though he’s barely touched his food, Jet knows a losing battle when he sees one, and Ghoul is easily tired out these days.
“Wanna go for a nap?” Jet asks. He doesn’t want to make it sound like he’s sending Ghoul away so he adds, “I can lay with you for a bit if you want.”
Ghoul nods, losing what few words he has the tireder he gets. He leans heavily on Jet as they make their way to the room Ghoul shares with another occupent since they have limited space at the angel house. Jet shared a dormitory with nine other kids back in his day, so really this is an upgrade.
Ghoul rolls onto his bed and wriggles around a bit before getting comfy and Jet takes in his side of the room while he does so. There are a few personal affects here and there, mostly trinkets from Kobra’s derbies or photos of the four of them (or, five if they include The Girl).
On the wall, he has a calendar Jet hasn’t noticed before and he notices that today has a star drawn in the square, along with tomorrow’s. Earlier in the month, he has drawn a shaky snake on the days when Kobra visited. Jet wonders what he would draw for Party, but there’s no way to know because they haven’t been here. His chest swells with sadness, though he tries not to let that creep into the way he speaks to Ghoul.
“Gonna go to sleep, Ghoulie?” he asks, stroking his hair.
“No,” Ghoul mumbles, barely enunciating.
He cracks open his eyes, reaching out for Jet, who takes the hint to join him on top of the blanket. Ghoul climbs half on top of him, using his chest as a pillow and making a satisfied noise.
At first, Jet wasn’t sure how he felt about this sort of affection. He never wants to be taking advantage of Ghoul in his vulnerable state, not in the least because Ghoul would kick his ass for it if he suddenly snapped back to the way he was before, but then Kobra set him straight. He let Jet know how much of an idiot he was being since the Ghoulie they had before BL/ind would’ve crawled under their skin if he could have.
Since getting his head on straight, Jet has had no problem giving Ghoul to almost constant contact he craves. Witch knows the BL/ind operatives weren’t giving him any.
Jet tries not to get stuck on that — to look at Ghoul and think only of the Killjoy he first met all those years back, scrappy and resourceful — but it’s hard not to also see the prisoner BL/ind was broadcasting for all to see.
He can’t help but imagine all those nights Ghoul waited for them to come and get him. At what point did he accept that they weren’t bringing him home? Or had he already forgotten them by then?
Then, when he realised he was alone, did he start viewing his captors differently? If the way his hand gripped hold of one of the scientists lab-coats in the last broadcast was anything to go by, he did. He looked dazed, reaching out for anyone he could keep close, and Jet can hardly blame him for that.
He’s not sure he’d survive being away from his crew for that long, having no idea if they even know he’s alive let alone coming for him.
Once Ghoul’s breathing evens out, Jet feels himself starting to drift off, knowing that Ghoul is safe in his arms. If he could have it both ways, keeping both Ghoulie and the others close, he’d never take his eyes off him. As it is, he has to trust his care to people who were, up until a few months ago, strangers.
But Jet can’t deny the impact those strangers have had. In the early days, every little thing set Ghoul off. They never knew whether he was going to hurt himself or someone else by accident, and it got to the point that it wasn’t safe having him around The Girl since they couldn’t always be right next to him.
They didn’t explain that reason to Ghoul, who didn’t seem to care much whether he was in a diner he didn’t even remember, or someplace new.
Still, when it came time to leave him there, when Party wouldn’t even get out of the Trans Am to say goodbye, he finally broke down, screaming out their names. Up until then, Jet hadn’t been sure he still knew them. He couldn’t speak to Party for days afterwards.
Jet wakes up with empty arms and immediately sits up, scanning the room. Ghoul is sitting with his back against the bed with Jet’s bag beside him.
“What’re you—”
He’s fiddling with something, a collection of wires and metal bits that mean nothing to Jet but which he thought Ghoul might be able to make something out of. Hopefully something non-explosive, but really he’d take anything.
From the mess emerges a small circuit board, rudimentary and a little sparky, but something tangible. Ghoul smiles up at Jet before revealing the music box he was listening to earlier. He’s opened it up and now replaces the circuitry inside.
The music places for a bit and then stops. Ghoul counts softly under his breath and it begins again.
“A timer,” Jet breathes out, amazed at Ghoul applying his bomb-making skills to such a small task — amazed that he remembers how to do it at all. “You’re a fucking genius, Ghoulie.”
Ghoul makes a small hum as if to confirm this fact and then he lays down on his stomach, watching the figure spin in its box. Jet soon joins him, briefly closing his eyes and thanking the Witch that Ghoul is still here to be doing anything at all.
His resolve hardens as he watches Ghoul’s eyes track the figure.
He’ll let The Girl come to see him. He’ll get Party to as well, even if it means forcing them into the Trans Am. Whatever nightmarish scenario he’s painted of Ghoul’s condition — whatever memories he’s hanging onto of the early days — it does not match up with reality.
He’ll have his crew together again. Jet is more of sure this now than he ever has been. Maybe it will never be the same as it was, but that’s life in the Zones. You take the hit and keep on going until you can’t anymore. For now, they can. Being with Ghoul has made Jet certain of that.