If Jackie were to take a step back and look at the cast of characters that filled her social circle, the people who she cherished and needed, those individuals who helped shape her life, she would be able to say, without question, that each and every one of them was necessary and unique. Nobody filled the exact role of anyone else. Nobody had the same sense of humor, or the same smile, or the same way of brightening her day. Those people she loved and cared for were completely irreplaceable.
Levi used to be one of those people. He carved a place for himself in her life, and maybe the shape of that place changed with time, maybe it evolved a bit as their relationship did, but the whole way through, that place was the same height, with the same smile and the same laugh and the same quiet, devious air of mirth. When Levi was gone from her life -- and Jackie knew he was gone because of her, not by his own choice, but his absence was an absence no matter the reasoning -- nobody could take up the space he'd made. Nobody could fill that exact, Levi-shaped space. And maybe that wasn't fair to anyone involved. If she told her husband there was always going to be a Levi-shaped void in her life, there was no chance that wouldn't be taken the wrong way. If she explained it just like that to Levi, he'd have fair reason to take offense. It hurt her too, to know that once someone was in her life, there was no escaping the impact they could make, the marks they could leave. But that was just how she was. Jackie didn't want to think that some relationships were temporary. She didn't want to believe that some people were only meant to drift in briefly, before drifting right back out of her life.
Maybe she'd be better off with a different perspective. Healthier. But that just wasn't the way Jackie was built.
In that moment, her thoughts weren't heavy. She wasn't running through all the reasons why her way of viewing the people in her life had the potential to be emotionally damaging. All she was thinking was that joking was Levi now felt just as comfortable as it used to. It was a reminder of the reasons Levi was able to carve out that place in her life in the first place.
And, most importantly, it just gave her a reason to laugh.
"I think I did a decent job," she said as Levi turned back to the present. "Some might even say I nailed it." Of course, the terrible cheesiness of the pun was lost to anticipation as Levi finally unwrapped the box. Hawks got a lot of credit for their watchful eyes, but Jackie didn't think wolves got enough recognition in that area. Then again, the untying of ribbons and tearing of tape usually wasn't such an interesting task as to warrant such sharp attention. Levi made fast work of the process, and Jackie noted each move of his fingers, as if that would distract from the unnecessary jerk of her heart rate. She was nervous again. She'd never stopped being nervous.
Levi smiled, and there it was again. A reminder of something nobody else in her life could do the exact way Levi did it. A reminder of that place that would always be his. "I know," she said, and her voice was quieter than it should've been. She wanted to give him something she knew he'd want. Jackie let out a laugh instead of clearing her throat, and when she spoke again, it was at a normal volume, and there wasn't quite as much tight emotion this go around either. "I might know a guy, and I might've called in a favor. No big deal."
Her laugh was different when he teased her. More surprised, less of a distraction from other things. "I can't have everyone noticing I'm a decrepit old hag, can I?" Levi earned himself a playfully sharp look, but it wasn't long before Jackie was smiling again. "'Forever Young' is too difficult to give up as a theme song." There was a pause, mostly for effect, but also partially to suppress an inappropriate reaction to the seemingly innocent statement Friends would be nice. "However, find a patch of grass and we might be in business."