OOM: Beckett's Room

[trigger_man]

 [After this.]

Jack makes a quick pit stop in his room to change into dry clothes, already feeling the burn on his skin as it warms up again.

Heading back out into the hall, he hesitates for a second outside Beckett's door.  After the awkwardness of him falling on top of her--and neither of them moving for a moment--this might not be the best idea.  But then he'd told her he'd be there in a moment, as as much as part of him has misgivings about it, there's part of him that wants to show that whatever that moment outside had been, it was just an aberration; nothing to see here, move along.

Taking a breath, he raps decisively on her door.

Comments

[trigger_man]

"It was a sacrifice worth making, then."

[fanofthegenre]

"You're a worthy opponent."

She offers him her hand, nodding decisively.

"Any time you want a re-match, just say the word."

[trigger_man]

"You're on," he says, taking her hand and shaking it.

[fanofthegenre]

"Good."

She squeezes his hand - once, not too hard.

"Small disclaimer: next time I may not play by the rules, either."

[trigger_man]

"I don't think I'll be losing sleep over that one," he says, giving her hand a gentle squeeze in return.

[fanofthegenre]

She considers that for a moment, then nods.

"Yeah, I can see how you wouldn't. I'm not really all that intimidating compared to what you've dealt with, am I?"

[trigger_man]

He's still holding her hand and somehow it's almost comforting as he replies.

"No, you're not," he says bluntly.

[fanofthegenre]

"Not exactly quick to disagree, are you?" she teases, gently nudging his arm with the back of her free hand.

[trigger_man]

"No real point in disagreeing," he says with a slight shrug.

[fanofthegenre]

"Maybe not."

Her gaze falls to their hands, her thumb sweeping over his knuckles.

"I can live with it," she quietly adds.

[trigger_man]

"There are worse options, really."

[fanofthegenre]

"Much, much worse," she agrees.

"This okay?"

[trigger_man]

He looks down at their hands. For a moment he has a flash of memory of the last time he held someone's hand, but just as quickly he tries to push it away.

"I want you to live. Don't just survive."

"Yeah, I think so. Okay with you?"

[fanofthegenre]

She turns his hand over, her eyes still looking down on them the same way his are.

"Fine," Beckett murmurs.

Her fingertips trace the scar on the outside, barely a light brush.

[trigger_man]

Watching her fingertips dance around the edge of his hand, skirting the scar that covers the back of it, he's starting to feel a little of that familiar tension, deep down. It's the unsettled feeling he gets when people get too close or someone he doesn't know touches him. Just a little though; like a few bubbles forming on the bottom of a pot, nowhere near a boil just yet.

"You can touch the scar, you know," he says softly, after a moment. "I won't be able to feel it."

[fanofthegenre]

She doesn't have to be a mind-reader to know she's treading a very thin line - not just for him, but for them both. And still, there's an odd kind of fascinating as she maps out the shape of his hand under her fingers, looking up at him through the few strands of hair that fall in front of her eyes.

"Not at all?" Beckett asks, genuinely curious.

[trigger_man]

"Not unless you press hard enough to put pressure on the bone. There's still muscle underneath the scar tissue, but a lot of the nerve endings in the lower skin layers are gone," he says, his tone dispassionate.

There's a slight pause before he adds, "I keep thinking I should see if someone here can at least do some cosmetic surgery on it."

[fanofthegenre]

"No chance of that," she replies, to the first part, before adding, "but I wouldn't be surprised if there's at least one doctor in the infirmary who could handle it. Or, if not, they'd know of someone who could.

"You should look into it," Beckett says, voicing encouragement, and squeezes the hand between the both of hers.

[trigger_man]

"Yeah, I just keep putting it off," he says. He's still not sure he'd be able to walk into the infirmary without it triggering a panic attack. "But I should probably do something about it instead of just trying to hide it."

[fanofthegenre]

"It's up to you," she says. "But if you want someone there for you - you know, after - it wouldn't be a problem. Or a burden," she adds, with a quick grin, before her gaze drops again.

"I don't even like to think about what you must have had to endure for these," Beckett whispers, clearing her throat as the words catch.

[trigger_man]

Jack's mouth twists for a moment as she expresses that quick clarification. Instead of getting back into the old argument, however, he simply gives her a soft "thanks."

"I don't either. One reason I've been thinking of having it done."

Not that he has much of a hope of ever forgetting. Most days it feels like he'll never be able to forget those twenty months, even for a minute; like the weight of it will weigh him down forever.

Sometimes, however, he can delude himself into thinking that maybe if he doesn't have to see the scars that he can pretend they're not there.

[fanofthegenre]

She smiles slowly, nodding, and finally let's his hand slip away from her grasp, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. If she was in the precinct, she'd have an excuse to go for coffee, or a call would come in to break the moment.

Here, in the kitchen of her place, in a magical bar at the end of the universe, all she has is a brief smile and the counter behind her to lean against, bracing palms along the edge.

"I could look into it," she offers.

[trigger_man]

As she lets go of his hand, Jack takes a step backward. It's not that the proximity is uncomfortable, really. With the moment over, though, it just feels like he should get even a little distance.

"No, I'll do it. I'm the one that can answer any questions they might have. Anyway, I should probably wait until this contract's finished and I move somewhere else. It'd look pretty weird if the scar was there one day and gone the next."

[fanofthegenre]

When he moves, she remembers the mug still sitting in the sink, and turns to finish where she left off, turning the water on only to a small trickle in order to hear him while he's speaking.

"Of course. I didn't even - you don't want to draw that kind of attention," she agrees, scrubbing out the inside of the mug.

[trigger_man]

"Yeah." He doesn't want to draw any kind of attention for that matter. "I didn't think of it myself until just now. Coming in here for so long and so often, sometimes it's easy to forget that it's only a very small number of people that actually know about this place."