oliver_jerzyck (oliver_jerzyck) wrote in city_limits, @ 2009-04-20 17:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | jessica haines, oliver jerzyck |
Coming Home
It had been a long evening at work. Long in the sense that nothing had happened. The hours had dragged as Jessica had done her rounds, dutifully hovering out of Bethany's sight but there should there be a problem. They had been a bartender down, so behind the bar had been hectic, but nothing that the staff couldn't handle.
Even the patrons seemed to have developed some sense of respect. Maybe the fact that, the week before, she broke the arm of a guy who had used his third strike had finally stuck and was making an impression. The dancers were not to be fucked with and Bethany was not to be disturbed.
It seemed the message was finally sinking in. It was just a shame that it had to be done in such violent ways. Not that Jessica minded all that much, really. It was kind of enjoyable, and what that said about her character was probably better left unspoken.
When she got back to the suite at the Fairmont, the first thing that assaulted her senses was cigarette smoke. But she wasn't expecting Oliver back, so she wondered if the guy on the floor below had been coming up to smoke in the hallway again; his wife hated him smoking in the room and she'd caught him outside her door once or twice, dragging in lungfuls of smoke like he might die without.
She shut the door behind her and toed off her shoes, navigating the room in the dark before she flicked on a light in her room and wandered back to sink onto the couch, letting the cushions support her as she let out a blissed out groan. It was good to be back.
She rested her feet on the table and knocked off a pile of magazines as she did. They hit the floor with a heavy thud and she jerked up, the sound having made her jump too. Oops?
Oliver had fallen asleep in his chair. He'd returned to the hotel intending to shower and eat, but he'd ordered room service and then collapsed into a comfortable seat once it arrived. Exhaustion claimed him before he could take more than a few bites, and when he was ajrred awake the cigarette he'd left burning in the ashtray was down to the filter.
"Whafuck...?!"
The spellcaster's neck had gotten stiff because of the angle, and he rubbed at the ache as he squinted into the dimness. No lights, he'd turned them off once the food arrived. The sandwich and fries were getting cold on the plate. He fumbled for the glass of scotch, took a drink, sat up more. It was Jessica. The inside of his mouth tasted brown, if it was possible for such a thing to happen.
"Jessica."
His voice sounded rusty. His dreams had been both disjointed and sad. Oliver put the cigarette out. "What fucking time is it?"
The room was dimly lit by the light filtering in from the bedroom that Jessica had laid claim to and at the first sound of words, she was up on her feet, blade glinting in the very dim light before she realised it was Oliver and she hastily put it away.
"Oliver! I- When did you get back?" she asked, "Cover your eyes," she ordered softly a moment later, walking over to flick the overhead light on, having to shield her own eyes from the sudden surge of light into the room. She blinked owlishly at him whilst she was adjusting to the lights. "It's about three twenty AM." she answered, "What time did you get back?"
"Ugh." He'd shielded his eyes, but the glare was unbearable just the same. "Turn it off, for Christ's sake. I can see you fine. I've only been back a few hours. Stopped off to see a friend first. Did I wake you up?"
He picked at the french fries listlessly, put a few of them in his mouth. They weren't so bad, even if they were lukewarm. He had another sip of scotch, thought about hauling himself out of the chair. Maybe in a few minutes. Damned jet lag.
"Haven't quite gotten my land legs back."
Jessica laughed softly to herself before she obliged and flicked the light switch off again. She felt more at ease, suddenly, with Oliver back in the hotel room even though he had been gone for so long. She wondered if that meant she had to start finding somewhere else to stay. She didn't think Oliver had expected her residency in his suite to be permenant. At least she had been paying for her own room service rather than charging it to the room.
"No, I just got in from work," she said, "But I guess I woke you, 'm sorry. You oughta sleep in the bed, though, I hear they're a lot more comforta
"Work. Right."
Oliver made an indistinguishable sound, pushed the tray of food aside. "I was going to eat, fell asleep before I could really get started. Guess I was more tired than I thought. The flight was...unrestful." His sleep had been just as lacking in refreshment, and he yawned before settling back against the cushion.
"I guess you fared well while I was away?"
"In some ways, not so well in others." Jessica answered honestly. "I got sent to hospital at one point, they nearly made me stay, but my- uh-" her lips curled up into a smile she was helpless to stop, a clear sign of some affection towards whoever she was talking about, "Tseng came and looked after me, made sure that- that I was okay." She shrugged, "You didn't miss much."
She tilted her head and came back over to sit down. "Are you okay?"
"I'm..." Sad. Lost. Bereft. "I was with her until the end. She said my name, and then she just wasn't there anymore, I guess. There didn't seem to be much pain for her. I'm a different story, but the living always are."
He looked at his mostly uneaten dinner moodily, wondered if he'd cry again. He'd cried in the cab coming back from Hannah's; the idiot driver had asked intrusive questions about it. But the tears didn't seem to be that close to the surface at the moment. "You'd have liked her," he told Jessica. "She was...she was one of a kind."
Jessica crossed over and sat on the arm of Oliver's chair, reaching out and touching his shoulder, a soft sign of camraderie, that she understood loss at the very least, even if she had never experienced the loss of a family member in such a way. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said softly, squeezing his shoulder. She wondered if he needed a hug, whether or not she was the right person to give him one, but she supposed she could gauge his reactions from what happened next.
"At least there was no pain. That's all you can ask."
He looked at her hand where it rested on his shoulder, then up at her face. In the lack of light, he could just make out her features, and when his vision doubled and then trebled he looked down into his lap. "Thank you." His hands became fists, and after a moment he leaned his temple against Jessica's thigh and started to cry again, the tears of an exhausted child. In the dark, it was safe for him to weep.
He composed himself after a few minutes, straightened up. "I feel...hollowed out right now. She was the last family I had. I don't think I realized it was going to feel this bad." He wiped the wetness away from his cheeks a little impatiently, started to get up. "So you've been okay?" he asked, obviously hoping to change the subject for a bit. "No problems while I was gone, other than...."
A silence as he fumbled for the name. "Whoever he was, I forgot his name already. Nothing other than that."
When Oliver started to cry, at first, Jessica was at a loss as to what to do. She paused, fumbling for something to say but she settled for stroking his hair, letting him get whatever he needed to get out out, silent and un-judging. She kept her hand moving, slowly over his hair and she hoped that it was helping.
"It's okay," she murmured, both for his 'thanks' and also for his comment about feeling bad. She knew that one too. She just wished she knew what to say. "I- I'm not good at this stuff but if you need anything, you know where I am."
She frowned a little at the subject change but she supposed he needed it so she ran with it. "It- uh- yeah... brief interlude with someone much stronger than me aside, yeah... But I had someone to look after me through it. And- uh- yeah." She chewed her lower lip. "It's been eventful."
He'd been looking for a cigarette while she talked, and he'd finally found one when her words sank in. She had mentioned the hospital. "Somebody hurt you?" he asked, igniting the tip of the white cylinder and releasing a puff of grayish smoke along with the words. "Did you have a personality conflict with somebody and they took it too far?"
The spellcaster had managed to find his feet by then, and he picked up the cooling sandwich to take a bite of it, the cigarette in his other hand. He squinted at Jessica in the dimness, trying to pick out if there were still bruises or if she'd recovered by now.
"You want to tell me about it?"
"It was all over a misunderstanding." Jessica said, "I- unintentionally- upset a friend of hers and then I ran into her and she took it out on me. I don't think it was just 'cause of what happened, though. I mean, I- I didn't mean to upset him." She shifted unhappily and cracked her knuckles. "It wasn't Connor's fault, and it wasn't my fault, but I've seen Connor a couple of times since then and all I can think about is his Slayer friend and how if something happened to him, she threatened to come after me again."
She wrinkled her nose and ran a hand through her hair, though it was hard to see in the dim light. "I met this really nice doctor, and my librarian friend bought me back here and looked after me so I didn't have to stay in the hospital."
"Connor, right, that's the one." Oliver nodded as if it had really been in question, then said, "If someone's bothering you, I can intercede. I don't care how strong she is, I consider you a friend and nobody bullies my friends. I don't have enough of them to let that happen."
The mage tucked the cigarette into his mouth, pulled off his suit jacket. He felt gross, as if he needed four or five showers to wash off the past few days. Except for Hannah, precious little had been going right for him lately. "That 'anything you need' thing goes both ways."
Jessica smiled. "It's okay, Oliver, really." She got to her feet and gave him a brief hug. After all, she hadn't seen him in a while. "But I appreciate it. I mean- I don't- I don't have many friends."
She chewed her lower lip and look at him. "I know, and one day you and I'll take each other up on that." she laughed softly. "Do you want a drink?"
He put his arm around her shoulders, rested his chin on the top of her head. So strange to think that they'd bonded, metaphorical orphans that they were. He released her after another moment, then nodded. "I could use a drink, thanks. Have you eaten tonight? I can call down for room service again."
He looked in the direction of the bathroom, anticipating a hot shower. "I want to meet him," he continued, pulling at his tie to loosen it. "This librarian guy, Tseng. If he's going to be around, I want to get a look at him. Not everyone is trustworthy, I'm sure you've figured that out by now. I've been gone too long."
Oliver discarded the tie, rubbed at his tired eyes. "I've decided to stay in Chicago," he informed the brunette, kicking off his shoes. "That means finding a permanent place to live. I'm going to check with a realtor about condos, see what's available. If you'd like..."
The sentence broke off as he fumbled with his right shoe, finally working it off his foot. "If it wouldn't disagree with you, you can continue to stay with me once I move. I can't say 'm always easy to live with, but I think I'd like the company. Its your decision, though."
"What do you want to drink?" Jessica asked once she had been released from the hug. It was strange that she felt comfortable doing that, but then Oliver had been kind to her and proven himself more than trustworthy, considering the world they lived in. She still didn't appreciate that about this place, how quickly people would stab each other in the back.
She tipped her head, "You do? He- uh- sure- I mean- Yeah... he's pretty cool. I think you'd like him." She decided not to mention the alternate personality deal he had going on. She still didn't fully understand it. "He works at the library, he's not hard to miss. Maybe I'll introduce you one day."
At the offer, her eyes widened a little. She chewed on her lower lip and nodded before she realised that he probably wouldn't be able to see her in the dim light. "I didn't think- I mean- That'd be nice, I'd like the company too, and this time we'll be able to split the cost of rent and stuff, I mean, I'm earning money now. It's a good job and it pays well."
"Just pour me some scotch, its the only open bottle on the bar." Oliver pointed in the direction of the alcohol he kept on hand, untucked his shirt. "We can talk about money later, I'm too tired right now." As if to prove the statement, he yawned jaw-crackingly, then stretched to relieve some of the tension in his muscles.
"I'm going to have that shower now. If you'll just leave the glass on the table next to the bathroom door, I'll find it. You should probably get some sleep too. This is an ungodly fucking hour for anyone other than a vampire."
Oliver began to pad down the hall, then paused for a moment. "Good night, Jessica. Sleep well."
"You want ice in that?" Jessica called after him, heading towards where Oliver had pointed before grabbing him a glass. Most of his glasses had been untouched in his absence, Jessica was not a big fan of alcohol, she had to admit.
She left the ice-cube tray beside the glass just in case he wanted to add his own and poured him a glass, leaving the bottle on the counter next to it before she shrugged out of her own jacket.
"Night Oliver. See you in the morning." She moved then into her own room and shut the door, hanging her jacket up over the back of a nearby chair and beginning her ritual for getting to bed, listening to the sounds of the shower, wondering what it was going to feel like to have someone sharing the suite again when she had gotten used to being alone.
In the bathroom, Oliver locked the door and stripped off the rest of his clothes. He examined his scars in the mirror, then turned on the shower to run the water hot. The weight was still on his chest, and he breathed in the steam as if that would help remove the pressure. He should send Hannah some flowers tomorrow, something pretty.
Life went on, whether he liked it or not. He was just gong to have to make the best of it.