Magdaline Bennett (ex_earthshak141) wrote in the_dome, @ 2013-08-09 22:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | 04-07-2017, jack, jack and maggie, maggie |
Something Real
Who: Maggie and Jack
Where: Maggie's House
When: Early Morning
Rain was never promising for business. When people didn’t have cars to get them around town, they didn’t wander out into the rain to get their hair or nails done. So when Maggie woke up to dark clouds and raindrops, she decided to stay home and instead settled in to read up on dogs. She was going through the books that Jack had brought her on veterinary medicine, slowly learning all she could learn. It was going to take some time, but she thought once she’d read everything, she could start advertising herself as a vet, while also working at the salon. Even if all she had was book knowledge, she had to start somewhere.
He was aware he was being a little crazy, but Jack couldn't help it. So very little in his life had any sort of sentimental meaning whatsoever, that the loss of what he would deem the most important was pretty awful for him. So, he needed to get that fixed. Which had him heading for Maggie's house, even before he went home to change out of the scrubs grabbed from the hospital. He dragged his hand through his wet hair, and knocked on the door, maybe a little more firmly than necessary.
He could smell her, though. Something he wouldn't have been able to pick out before, but he recognized her shampoo, the light perfume she had. He was slightly weirded out to realize he could track her, if he wanted to.
Maggie jumped off the couch and hurried to the door, at first thinking that maybe the kids had decided to come and see her today, despite the rain. Instead it was Jack, wet and in scrubs, looking a little worse for the wear. “Jack!” she said, reaching out to grab him and pull him in, out of the rain. “What happened? Why are you in scrubs?” She hadn’t seen much of him lately, which was disappointing, but she’d decided not to press it. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be hurt, as he seemed so untouchable most of the time. “Is everything okay?”
Jack gave a grunt of pain, and stepped into her not necessarily out of a desire to do so, and more to keep his balance. And he found himself leaning even closer, shutting his eyes and drawing in a deep, deep breath of her scent, face in toward her neck and hair. "Not really," he started. "Do you have clear nail polish? If you don't have it here, I'll go to the shop and get it, I just need it. As soon as possible."
She didn’t expect him to step so close and realized afterwards that it was more of a stumble. Perhaps she should be more careful with someone in scrubs, especially when she knew they weren’t a doctor. Maggie steadied him as she nodded. “I have some here.” Did he just-- she really needed to focus. “I’ll go grab it. One second,” she said, leaving him in the living room. “And then you’re going to tell me what happened,” she called out, hurrying to her room.
Jack was pretty unsure what he was going to tell her. He guessed he'd have to wait and see what came out of his mouth. Now that he was out and about, he was thinking leaving the hospital may have been premature. He sank down heavily on the couch, though remained sat forward, so as not to lean on the wounds in his back. He stared down at the floor between his feet, arms resting against his knees. The sensory overload was still kicking in here too, though it was slightly less in here than it was outside. Even with the rain, the wind kicked up scents he had no clue how to go about identifying.
Maggie couldn’t imagine what he was going to do with nail polish, but she found her clear topcoat and returned to find him sitting on the couch. Looking at him now, she decided he really didn’t look good, and that was saying something considering she’d seen him after a brawl. “I’m not going to paint your nails, am I?” she asked, taking a seat next to him on the couch, her leg pulled up so that she could sit sideways and face him. “You don’t look so good.”
He shook his head, then dug the little plastic bag out of his pocket, handing it to her. He noticed the bandage on that hand was soaked. Great. "The pendant. Paint it for me?" he asked, knowing full well he was being weird. He just didn't have much of a choice, and no matter how it got done, he wasn't going to be able to touch the thing to paint it, and it was already weird because of the request for clear polish in the first place. So, yeah. He was being weird, but oh well. It was a weird day.
She took the plastic bag from him, looking from the pendant to his hand, then up to his eyes. She didn’t understand what was going on, and he was being incredibly vague, but maybe this was one of those times where she should just wait and see if he decided to share. Taking the pendant out of the bag, she began to paint it with the clear nail polish. It was the one she’d seen him wearing and glanced up, just to be certain. He didn’t have one on now, so it had to be the same one. “The chain too?” she asked, thinking that that might not work quite as well. She had some leather cording that might work, if he was having some kind of allergic reaction to silver. But he’d been wearing it before, so she had no idea what this was about.
"No, the chain's...it doesn't need it." he told her. It hadn't been silver. He absently rubbed at the painful spot under the bandage on his hand, one foot starting to bounce a little bit as he waited for her to be finished. He really hated that he was having this over the top a reaction to just something so simple as the loss of his necklace, but he couldn't help it. He really hated it. It was almost like he could feel Miranda out there somewhere, giving him a disapproving look over it, even if he knew that was ridiculous.
“Okay,” Maggie said, flipping the pendant over and putting a coat on the back of the pendant. “It’ll need a few minutes to dry. If you really want to seal it, it’d be a good idea to put a second coat on it.” She glanced up at him, sensing something in his voice that was different from what she was used to hearing. She just didn’t know what it was. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”
Giving a short, humorless laugh, he tugged his fingers through his hair again. "You really probably don't want to know," he told her. "And a second coat, sure." he added belatedly. Then he finally looked over at her, but away again shortly after. "What've you been up to?" he asked, wanting to shift focus off of himself. Though he knew it was a hugely obvious ploy, and had no idea if she'd allow him to dodge so blatantly.
Maggie shot him a look, but answered the question. There was no way she was going to let him get away from answering that easily. “Lately, just working and reading. It’s going to take me months to get through all the material you provided me, so I’ve got lots to read in my spare time. The kids were over yesterday, which was nice. Nothing exciting. Now what about you?” No matter what he’d been doing, she was sure it was more interesting.
"Not a lot, I've been unconscious for most of it." he said, answering before he thought better of it. He wanted to get up and pace, but was thinking that was a bad idea. He was still feeling a little like he shouldn't be on his feet much at all, and while he'd taken painkillers not long ago, he swore they just weren't kicking in like they should.
“You were attacked,” she said as she started the second coat. “By the wolves?” He wasn’t giving her a lot to go on, so she was going to start making assumptions and let him correct her. “You’ve been in the hospital and just got out?” Either that, or he’d decided scrubs were comfy, and while she agreed, she didn’t think they were really his style.
"Yeah," he answered, wanting to lean back, but he knew he'd pay for that dearly, so he didn't. Instead he shifted, trying to stretch a little and failing, mostly. There weren't many ways he could turn without popping stitches. Which, actually, he probably needed some of them cut out. With the healing he'd gotten from drinking Mannix' blood, there were a few areas around the edges of the wounds that he was betting had healed up at least some.
Maggie shot him a glance as he fidgeted and decided to make one more guess. “Did they release you or did you just decide you were well enough to walk out the door?” It made her wonder how bad his wounds were underneath those scrubs. While she’d normally be eager to get him out of them, this time she was concerned about his physical state. With the pendant painted, she hung it from a finger, swinging it gently to help it dry. “Just give it a few minutes.”
"I'm not a fan of hospitals." Jack said. And he did actually know why, even if it was hard to connect sometimes. You didn't go to hospitals when you were in organized crime, you went to someone who'd been paid to keep their mouth shut. Even if that was no longer relevant in his current circumstances he knew it played into his feelings on the matter. He watched the pendant swing, and had to fight not to reach out and grab it, to test that this was even going to work.
“Not many people are,” she said, watching Jack rather than the pendant. “How bad is it?” If he was in the hospital at all, it had to be pretty bad. The kind of bad that required someone drag him there in the first place.
He didn't answer straight away, eyes still watching the pendant swing. "If someone else hadn't intervened, I would have died." he said, voice distant. He was still coming to terms with it. That brush with death that would have been absolutely certain if it hadn't been for supernatural intervention. It was hard to wrap his head around.
Maggie took a deep breath, not sure how to respond right away. She knew a number of people had died from the wolf attacks, but she’d been lucky not to be close to any of them. Then there was Jack. Jack who could live outside the dome, who’d come back time and time again with supplies to trade. Even if she’d seen him beat up, it was hard to wrap her mind around the idea that he could’ve died. “I’m sorry,” she said after a minute, struggling to find words. It was easier to focus on the task at hand, so she tested the paint to make sure it was dry before offering it to him. “I didn’t realize you were at the hospital, or I would have visited.”
He'd sort of expected more of a reaction than 'sorry'. What, he had no idea, really, so he couldn't even have said what he was disappointed about, but he was. It just didn't show, mostly because when she held out the pendant, he hesitated, then reached out to take it, internally bracing himself for that white hot burning he'd gotten the first time. But...it didn't happen. He exhaled a huge sigh of relief, then moved immediately to clasp the chain around his neck again, feeling an intense tension in him ease. Like he could breathe properly again. “Thank you,” he said, truly grateful.
Maggie watched him, though her mind was elsewhere. He’d almost died. She hadn’t even known. She’d just been home, reading, going about her daily life, and he’d been struggling to survive. Yes, she’d watched for him after a few days, hoping maybe she’d see him. Their houses were close enough that she could watch from her bedroom window, but she wasn’t there all the time. She’d just assumed she was missing him. Maggie bit her lip, watching as he clasped the pendant around his neck. “You’re welcome,” she said softly.
He gave himself a second, just to be positive that he wasn't going to be burning a hole in his chest. Then he glanced at her again, her tone catching his attention. She didn't look good. He swore she was just fine two seconds ago, but she didn’t look it now. Not overwhelmingly so, but he still guessed something was up. "...what's wrong?" he asked, confused, now.
“It’s just... you almost died. And I didn’t even know something was wrong. And...” Maggie shook her head, unable to put words to what she was feeling. Was it appropriate to freak out over something that hadn’t occurred, but could have? She was used to hiding her emotions for the benefit of her brother and sister, to appear strong, and even if they weren’t here it wasn’t any different. “Just kinda... freaking out,” she said, giving him a nervous little laugh.
That was a little more what he'd been thinking he'd see. He liked to think he knew her pretty well, even if he was still in the process, and she was a sweet girl. He watched her for a moment. "Honestly? I hear you." he told her, going for truth in the moment. He could have just attempted to comfort her, or something, but he was internally not great right now, for a number of reasons. One of which was that he'd nearly died, and he hadn't seen that coming. Not from a fucking wolf inside a dome.
“You’re not supposed to die,” she told him as she ran a hand through her hair. “You and your brother, you kept coming back, bringing me supplies. People that live outside the dome, they don’t die inside the dome.” It wasn’t even plausible, in her opinion, but it had happened. As much as she wanted to appear strong, she knew she was shaken and it showed in the little things-- she was fidgety, her body tense, and her focus shot. “I’d hug you, but I’m kind of afraid I’d hurt you,” she admitted. She knew she’d hold on too tight. “How bad is it?”
"I didn't," he offered, knowing that that was a little weak. Especially for him, knowing that yeah--he would have been dead. He was just stupidly lucky Zania had come by and helped when she did. That she'd tried to help him further, the only way she knew how. If she hadn't? He'd be dead and gone. He wasn't sharing that part, though. Not when he was picking up on all the cues that said she was pretty upset about this. "Bad," he admitted, figuring she'd work that out for herself eventually. That mess on his back was bound to scar up something awful, so even if she didn't get a look at it til it was healed, she'd suss it out. He did, however, put his arm around her back. "You really probably don't want to see." he added, even if part of him was already wondering if she would be willing to cut some of the stitches out. "But I'll be okay."
“I know, but it’s still freaking me out.” A part of her felt like she should be able to get past this easily, that she shouldn’t be upset about something that could have happened, but happily didn’t. It just made her realize how much she cared for him and how very upset she would have been if he had died. Maggie didn’t have a lot of close friends. She’d always been too busy with the kids. Somehow Jack had gotten close. “I can handle it,” she said, even if she wasn’t entirely sure. She had a strong stomach, which she figured would be helpful if she ever succeeded in becoming a vet. Not that Jack was the same as a dog. She leaned into his hold, gently, so as not to jostle him. “Are you going to tell me why I painted your pendant with nail polish?”
"Maybe," he told her, rubbing her back lightly. "If you want to see, you can, but don't say I didn't warn you." he told her. He sat back a little, then very carefully tugged the wet scrubs shirt off, then turned toward her a little more. "Go ahead and take off the bandages, it'll be easier for you than me." he said. It would also give her the option to chicken out if it started looking too nasty, it wouldn't be all one big horrific reveal. He wouldn't blame her if she did stop.
“You probably shouldn’t have been out in the rain. You got the bandages wet,” she said, noticing all the bruising now that his shirt was off. She could tell that whatever happened had been serious, but until she started to peel back the bandages she didn’t know how bad it was. Maggie hissed quietly, cringing at the sight, but that didn’t stop her. The wound was clean and healing well, which made it not quite as bad as it could be. “When did this happen?” she asked, frowning a little. Something didn’t add up, but she wasn’t a doctor, so maybe she was misjudging here.
He frowned. "...I'm not actually sure, I've been so in and out, I kind of don't know what day it is anymore," he realized. "But I've been healing well, yeah. I think I saw a few stitches that could be cut out, around the edges...would you mind?" he asked.
“It’s Friday. I think the wolves first attacked on Tuesday night,” Maggie said, trying to think back. The last time she’d seen him had been Monday. Was that really enough time for him to get attacked, almost die, get stitched up, and heal to this point? She wasn’t sure. “I don’t mind, so long as you’re sure they can come out,” she said. “Stay here while I grab my scissors.” And fresh bandages because he wasn’t leaving without those.
He stayed where he was, thinking that was a hell of a lot of time to be missing. But he really was. He remembered most of the attack, Zania showing up, and...yeah things went fuzzy after that. There were bits and pieces here and there, nurses, doctors, lots of pain, but he had no concept of time for that. Nothing at all. And apparently it was Friday now. Jesus.
Maggie returned and took a seat beside him, carefully examining the stitches, her fingers brushing over one lightly. “I’m kinda shocked that these are already ready to come out,” she said, gently cutting one and removing it. He was going to have a nasty scar when all was said and done, but Jack wore his scars well.
"Only some of them." Jack said. He was far from actually healed up. Not even all the skin was healed over. But some--very definitely. "But yeah. Me too." he said, not even sure what to do on the information front. Just how crazy would she think he is? Did she need to know? It was kind of murky water for him, and he wasn't used to being unsure about anything. He decided to distract from the current topic by answering something else. "I had an allergic reaction to the pendant. Happened out of the blue, but was pretty severe. But it's important to me." And that was understating it, which he was sure she'd realize.
“Only some,” she agreed, carefully cutting out a few more stitches. He still had weeks of healing ahead of him, as far as she could tell, but at least he was off to a good start. And she was glad to be able to help, that he trusted her enough to let her do this for him. “What is it?” she asked, then clarified, “the pendant, I mean.” She could tell it was important to him, and recognized it as a Catholic saint, but that was about all she knew. Jack hadn’t come across to her as religious, but she’d noticed the way he’d handled the pendant, like something of great value to him.
Jack was quiet for a long moment, realizing he was going to actually tell her about it, but he never had shared anything about it with anyone before, so it was more difficult than he would have liked to admit. "It's a Saint Maria Goretti medal." he said. "She was a little girl when she was murdered. Well. Died of her wounds of her would be rapist, but same thing in my book. She's the patron saint of rape victims, teenage girls, stuff like that." he explained first.
Now came the hard part. He took another minute to continue. "When I was little, my sister was murdered. I don't even properly remember what she looks like, just photographs, but I remember this...presence. Like I remember what it was like to be around her, but not much else. I'm told I was the one who found her, I was...like four or something." he said. "Someone gave me the medal. I honestly couldn't even tell you who. Some family member, at the funeral. But it's always been a reminder of her for me. I may not be okay with a lot of my family, but what happened to her..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Sorry you asked yet?" he asked, knowing right then he was feeling more vulnerable than he had in...well. Ever? Maybe.
Maggie listened, stomach knotting as soon as he began to tell the saint’s story. The patron saint of rape victims and teenage girls? That couldn’t be good. At all. She wouldn’t have asked him to explain further, no matter how curious she was, but she didn’t stop him when he did. It was the most personal thing she’d ever heard from him and it made her want to cry. Four years old was so incredibly young and to find a family member dead? That would scar her even now. It said a lot about him, some of which she’d need to think about to really understand, and no matter how hard it was to hear, she was glad he’d told her. “No,” she said softly, and leaned in to kiss his shoulder as her fingers lightly brushed down his arm. “Thank you for telling me. I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like, but... I’m glad you told me.”
Jack shut his eyes when she kissed his shoulder, and he felt that touch on his arm keenly. It made him want to turn around and kiss her properly, forget about cutting stitches, forget about the story he'd just told, the pain he was in, forget about vampires and werewolves and everything else. But he didn't, he just kept his eyes closed and focused in on her physical presence, something he found almost scarily easy to do. He could hear her heart, he could feel her breath against his skin. "So...that's why I was worked up about it. I couldn't just...not wear it anymore because of some stupid allergic reaction." he said, feeling like he needed to qualify what he'd said. Being vulnerable wasn't easy for him to deal with, apparently he tried to smooth it over the second he shared.
She didn’t need an excuse to understand. Unlike most people, Maggie had had the chance to grab some of her belongings before things got bad. What she had, she held onto tightly, but nothing of hers had the significance that Jack’s pendant had for him. He’d practically had it his whole life. “She’s someone you loved that you don’t want to forget,” Maggie said. “I wish I had something of my mother or father’s, but the things that remind me of them, they had with them. I know it’s not the same, but I get it.” Her parents were dead, but they hadn’t been murdered. She couldn’t even imagine how horrific that must have been for him.
He could see how they were similar. She was right, it wasn't the same, but he could see how it was along those same lines. In the end, he opted to nod, because he wasn't sure how to actually address that. Or if he should at all. He wasn't good at this sharing bullshit.
Sharing was easier, she thought, when they were happy memories. Nobody knew what to say about the sad ones. “What do you remember about her?” she asked as she resumed taking out the stitches in his back. She only had a few more to do, then she could bandage him back up.
He thought about that. "I remember she used to lie on the couch, and watch tv. And she'd have me come up there with her and she'd...snuggle me, I guess. It sounds stupid in my head, but whatever. She was warm. She smiled at me a lot, or I remember that impression. The idea that she really liked me. She had time for me."
“I can’t imagine not wanting to snuggle with a four-year-old Jack,” Maggie smiled. It didn’t sound stupid to her, not at all. As a big sister, she could relate to this girl, even if she knew next to nothing about her. She sounded like a good big sister. “How much older was she? Older than Mannix?” She didn’t really know how old Jack was, to be honest, but she knew Mannix was his big brother.
"Yeah. She was a teenager. Old enough to decide she wanted to rebel, I guess. But yeah, she was a lot older. I've had a lot of siblings." he told her. "Most of them I didn't have much contact with, though."
There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask, but Maggie wasn’t all that sure how much more Jack would be willing to share. He said things that left her to wonder-- Was it the rebellion that got Miranda killed? And he’d had a lot of siblings? Did he lose them with the zombies, or had he lost them along the way, starting with his sister? “The rebelling... you think that had something to do with her death?”
"Honestly I have no idea. All I do know is what information I have is fuzzy in the first place, and I don't trust the old man to actually tell me the truth in the first place. So...I don't know. Maybe. I don't think I'll ever know what really happened to her. And in the end, I guess it doesn't matter. She's gone." And he knew he'd never get her back. She was just this bright impression in his memory, and that was what he had to hold on to. He didn’t realize he was absently playing with the pendant.
Maggie listened, then gently wrapped her arms around him from behind, barely touching him. “I’d hug you tighter, but I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” she said, the smile in her voice. This may be the one time she could actually hurt him and she wasn’t going to risk it. He was beat up enough already. “I think what matters is you remember her, and you honor her memory.”
There was pain there, from his wounds, but mostly? God, that felt good, having her there. Enough that it was distracting. What the fuck was wrong with him, tonight? He was all over the place. He still felt amped up more than he felt he should be, and he didn't know what to do about it. Turning around and kissing her was probably not the answer, though. Even if that was at the top of his list of things to do. "I'll be fine." he told her. "And I wouldn't know about honoring it. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't like me much."
She wasn’t sure she believed him, but she let herself remain close for a minute, enjoying the warmth of him. God, he was warm. It made her feel almost cold by comparison. “You don’t know that. Why wouldn’t she? I like you,” she pointed out. It didn’t matter what he’d done, or what he might do. She had a hard time connecting that man sometimes because she knew, deep down, he wouldn’t hurt her.
He had to smile at that, and he gave a little laugh. "Yeah, but you're crazy." he told her, a little tease. It felt good to say it, to start getting back to how he was supposed to be. "And you don't know what's good for you." he added, reaching up to put his hand over one of her arms, keeping her where she was a moment longer.
“Am I?” she laughed, glad to hear the amusement in his voice. “Are you saying you’re not good for me? I distinctly recall you being a good influence, not a bad one.” He’d gotten her out of the house for fun for the first time in years. Even though Chiri wasn’t her shrink, she could almost hear the girl in her head, being pleased at this news.
"I'm terrible for you." he told her, grinning. He also shifted, so he could look back at her--though he kept hold of her arm so she didn't get too far away. He liked where she was, really. "I'm a bad influence, generally. I just made an exception to the rule that night."
“Oh, you’re not so bad,” she grinned back at him, aware of the hold he had on her and liking it more than she should. He was hurt. The last thing he needed was her being clingy. “It’s not like you’ve dragged me over to your house of sin. Or let me get sloppy drunk on my one night out in public. I might even call you a gentleman.”
He leaned in closer to her, lips close to hers. Enough so that when he spoke, she'd be able to feel his breath. "Don't do that. I'll have to do something to counteract that slanderous impression." he told her, voice quieter than before.
“You’re in no condition to counteract anything,” she smirked, her voice soft as he leaned in to her. It made her heart race to have him that close, her body all too aware of his proximity and lack of dress. She wondered how long she would have to wait for his stitches to heal. Weeks? If he was going to tease her like this, it was going to be torture.
He didn't tease her too long this time, at least. Being that close, it was meant to tease her, but he found himself closing the distance to kiss her. Though part of him was aware enough to make sure it wasn't anything soft or sweet. It was more a hard, hungry kiss.
It was the kind of kiss she’d come to expect from Jack. Occasionally they shared softer, sweeter moments, but when it came to him kissing her, Maggie always felt like he might eat her up. It was a delicious feeling, being wanted like that, and she returned it in kind. The only hard part was not pulling him to her like she wanted to, too aware of his injuries to let herself go.
He kissed her until he had to ease off, both because the position was sending spikes of pain through his system and because he was pretty abruptly concerned about his level of control. Which--really shouldn't be this off, but it was. By a long shot. Because right then, injuries and all, he wanted to throw her back on the couch and take her there. Which wasn't quite like him. He had a very specific angle with Maggie, and he wasn't planning to break that. Only apparently he was doing his thinking tonight with other parts of himself. Something he didn't understand.
She was breathing hard by the time he stopped, and ran her fingers through his hair as she leaned her forehead against his. Being with Jack made her want to forget all the rules she’d put in place for maintaining a good reputation and for keeping her heart protected. She knew the kind of guy he was, that he was never going to commit to her, and yet the more time she spent around him, the less she cared. “You okay?” she asked softly, thinking of his wounds. The rest of him seemed fine and probably very eager to heal.
He nodded, not answering verbally immediately. "You should tell me to leave, though." he told her, thinking that might work out best. She could tell him to get out of there, he could go back 'home', and...figure the rest out later. Or something. But he had one hell of a hard time actually standing up, or really moving far away from her.
Her hands slid slowly out of his hair, one drifting down his neck and slowly falling to his side. The other stayed on his shoulder, making no move to push him away or pull him closer. “Do you want me to?” she asked, honestly curious. Jack a little beat up was... well, hot. But Jack physically in pain scared her and she didn’t think he could do much more than kiss her without ripping out his stitches.
No. Was the real answer, but he had enough of his faculties together to not say that. Instead, he gave her truth, just not so blatant. "I think it's the best idea." he told her. "Tell me to leave." he requested.
Maggie licked her lips, disappointed, but understanding. Frustrated, but understanding. One of these times she was going to make him stay. But not this time. “I think you should go,” she said hesitantly. “For your sake.” And maybe for hers. If he stayed and bled out because she didn’t ask him to go, she’d likely be traumatized for life.
"As the lady wishes." he told her, with a grin. But it did actually work. She told him to leave, so he knew he needed to do that. Even if he knew it was probably bullshit. Still. He kissed her one last time, cutting it short and standing up with a grit of his teeth against the pain. Why the fuck were the pain meds not working for shit? Jesus. But he looked at her again. "I'll be around." he promised. "Thank you for dealing with.." he made a vague gesture, not even sure what to specifically site.
Maggie rolled her eyes, but grinned back at him, knowing that this time it really was for the best. She might not like it, but she’d deal with it. “It’s no problem,” she said, picking up his shirt and handing it to him, then standing as well. “If you’re not around, I might just march over to the brothel and find you.” It was her way of showing how serious she was about making sure he was okay. She didn’t want to risk being seen at the brothel, but she wasn’t going to let him disappear on her either.
"Or, you could text, and not set foot in someplace I'd personally be offended to find you," Jack suggested with a half smirk. He pulled the damp shirt over his head, really hating how that felt. He needed to get home and rest. But he was glad he'd come by. He felt better, at least on some levels.
“There is that,” she said, laughing softly. Texting would be safer. And less risky. She still couldn’t believe she had a brothel a stone’s throw away from her back door. “Rest and work on getting better?” she said, showing him to the door.
He walked out, and looked back once he was out the door on the porch. "That's the plan." he told her. "I'm pretty useless til I'm better anyhow, so you won't have to worry too much about me doing anything stupid."
“I can’t even imagine how you might define stupid, so I’m just going to be relieved you won’t be getting up to it,” she smiled. She wanted to reach out and pull him back to her, kiss him again and tell him how glad she was that he was okay. Instead, she sighed and kept her hand to herself. “See you soon, Jack. Feel better.”
"Stay safe, Magdaline." he said, and very reluctantly, he started for his place, still wondering what was up with him. It was a hell of a lot harder to walk away tonight than it should have been. Hell. He even looked back before he was across the street.
Maggie couldn’t help it. She stayed on the porch and watched him walk away, waving when he looked back at her. It felt wrong to send him home when she really wanted him to stay, but she thought maybe he was right this time. He needed to heal, and then maybe he could handle seeing her again.