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Jake is (derelict) wrote in rooms,

Jake R/Jack C: Gotham city quick-log
[Jake didn't know a thing about Gotham the way this Gotham had got itself all back to front. He knew daylight, short distances from the loft apartment which was sweet-smelling like sunshine and the south and he knew plenty about the skeletal structure of the old bricks and the way they looked in shadowed charcoal. But this Gotham was late at night and he'd gotten himself further in, down where the smell of the docks was real high and he didn't know which way was the way back. He hadn't looked at the door on the way in, he'd been set on getting the hell away from Graham, who had himself a new family and he'd been real clear on the door, even with his hands shaking some and the cold way his belly rolled over and turned itself inside out because he didn't want to go back to where the dead walked.

But he didn't know this place either. The streetlights glowed brighter than he'd seen Gotham shine at night, like this place had cleaned itself up a lick overnight. A set of wheels squealed past, through the blink of red lights with a streamer of laughter from the rich kids leaning out the windows, and Jake, he sat with his knees tucked tight up against his plaid shirt, and his arms knotted around his shins.

Because he could see the shadow, real well just then. The shadow, long and lean that smelled like magnolia and soap, and the memories flickered through his head like paint stirred into water. The tickle of her hair against his bare arm, the time he was sicker than a dog and she gathered him onto her lap and sang something sweet and real low and the words were lost but the feeling wasn't. He'd wished her to say goodbye, and he wished now he hadn't, because he couldn't say goodbye just then when he was mad enough with Graham and Clementine to snap teeth on.

And he couldn't sit tight too long, because the longer he sat, the closer that shadow got. He pushed off, slap of boots over concrete, and his sleeves long over his wrists flapping, and he wasn't a girl to go crying over the dead, but his nose was hot and wet all the same. And if he went crashing into the first person who came around the corner late night, he did so full force.]