Re: [Jester's Court: Cat & Jack]
Cat could shed whatever Cat wanted to shed. That was the entire basis of his survival. He'd spent a lifetime surviving. Alright, so he wanted to live now, which was a completely different thing, but he knew about shedding his skin. He'd done it over and over, and he'd done it the entire time he'd been a she. It was just now that he was doing things differently, because fuck that. He'd spent an entire life building walls, facades, personas, and doing it exquisitely, and he didn't want to anymore. For five minutes, he wanted to be him and nothing else. If he hated it, he could always go back, but he wanted to try. Long and short, and that was what it came down to.
But, that bit about survival? Absolutely 100% true. Dependence was terrible for survival, and true survivors did so alone. Home had taught him that, and the military had reinforced it, and the revolving door of people in his life? Had made it clear and crystal and there wasn't any getting away from it. People? Were the worst and biggest weakness. Unfortunately, they were also life's biggest addiction. Open the door and hello, obsession, and even as a boy? Cat knew that feeling intimately. The difference? Was that the boy in the cat could see the danger, and he still wanted to jump in without looking.
Then, and Cat had to turn around to confirm it, Jack was gone. There was nothing behind him. Not a thing. There was darkness and glowing mirrors, but there was no nosy journalist and his jaded view of life. And, you know, Cat had that thing about the dark.
The dark? Was terrifying.
For a few minutes, he stood there. He didn't move forward, back, nothing. He was still, unmoving, and then his feet carried him forward. Slow, slow, slow, and then fast. He ran, and he didn't look in any of the mirrors long, and the glow got lighter and lighter, and eventually he was running through empty rows. Oh, he'd looked quickly, and he'd seen terrible, dreadful things, and so he ran. God, he'd never been a runner, but he ran. He fucking ran and ran and ran, and then he ran right into a wall.
Flat, smooth, cool, and there wasn't a door. There wasn't a door, and he started banging with fists and palm and screaming. The screams were wordless sound and loud, and by the time the mirrors began glowing behind him, something taking pity, Cat was sitting on the floor, shoulder to the wall and curled up tight.