Tue, 06 Nov 2012 04:49:58 GMT

Jack hasn't left his room much in the couple days since he woke up outside, with no memory of the few days before that. No memory for kidnapping someone, of fighting Teja.

When he has gone downstairs, he definitely hasn't gone anywhere near the woods.

He still has no memory of anything he did while under that spell, and the thought that something took him over, that he has no memory of it, unnerves him like nothing else has in years.

He needs to get out of here, but the door back to his world is locked, and so he stays mostly in his room, dreading every time he falls asleep and the nightmares start again.

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OOM: If You Go Out (Slenderman Plot)

Thu, 25 Oct 2012 02:02:55 GMT

( Jack is used to having nightmares... )

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OOM: September 2014; Lexington, Kentucky

Tue, 02 Oct 2012 01:31:49 GMT

Jack poured himself another cup of coffee from the urn, then took his seat again. Around the waiting room, feet shuffled, chairs creaked. Most of the chairs were filled; today was a slow day for day labor jobs, and as the door opened and a man walked in Jack caught the glance of disappointment on the man's face.

He'd arrived in Lexington a few days earlier, found the day laborers' center and a local Wal-Mart where he could park his truck overnight. He'd turned up at the center every morning at five, had a shower in the facilities provided, then watched the noticeboard for work. The other days, he'd found jobs fairly quickly. Today, not so much.

Heads snapped up as one of the volunteers working the phone stood and headed for the noticeboard, then dropped again as they saw her pin the index card under the "volunteer" category. While the center was mostly for those who needed the pay, they still posted volunteer positions, when they were from a registered charity and when a meal was provided. Sometimes volunteer opportunities allowed the workers to make contacts with businesses, find paying work. But most of the time the charities wanted someone with a clean police record, and that wasn't always an option, especially for those that weren't in the country legally.

Jack sighed, looking at his watch. It was eight a.m., and considering the number of people in the room, he was pretty sure his chances of getting work that day were pretty low, especially when he had got more of a cash safety net than most others in there probably did.

Getting up from his seat, he walked over to the noticeboard, looking at the card the volunteer put up.

Charity: Coming Home

Trades Needed: Any & all related to housebuilding, esp. roofers, bricklayers. Minimal skill required.

Jack pulled the note off the board, and walked over to the reception desk. "Could I get a map to this address?"

~~~~~~~~~~

The sun beat down on the roof, heat radiating off the tar paper as Jack knelt to place another shingle and hammer it in.

"You're getting fast at this," Don, the roofing supervisor said with a slight twang that Jack was getting used to. "You done this before?"

"A couple times. Here and there," Jack said, once he'd pulled the last roofing nail from his mouth.

Don gave him a grin. "You want to keep doing it after this job, you let me know."

Jack gave him a slight nod and smile, and Don went back to his work. Over the last couple days he'd gotten used to Don and the others on the building crew; mostly Don's employees, volunteering their time to built a house for a family that might not otherwise be able to afford one. Across the street, more volunteers were nailing together the frame of another house, along with a couple families that had already received their houses and were paying back in hours what their small mortgage didn't cover.

Jack looked next door where the concrete foundations of the next house's basement were being poured, then down the street at the house that had been finished a couple weeks earlier. There was something amazing in the sight, seeing this little neighborhood cropping up among the gently rolling landscape, at all the people helping.

That first day he'd come out to the site, he hadn't been sure what to expect, what he'd do when the day was over. The next morning, he'd only stopped at the day labor center for a shower, then come straight here without looking at the noticeboard.

There was something in him that said he needed to be here, whether it was to build something himself, or to see that others were building things too, for someone they didn't even know. That other people were building things up, instead of tearing them down.

Don called for a water break, and Jack joined the stream of guys climbing down off the roof and grabbing a water bottle. Finding a tree, he took a seat beneath its shade and gulped the water.

Out on the street, he saw a woman approaching the site with two children in tow, each wearing a hard hat. Both the kids looked excited, grinning from ear to ear, while Jack could see the mother's chin quiver as she looked at the house with a tight smile. Not tight because she was forcing it, but because she was obviously trying not to cry with happiness. It looked like she was losing the battle as she turned to talk to the site supervisor, and Jack looked away, feeling his throat tighten as he stood and disposed of his empty water bottle.

Maybe the reason he felt he needed to be here, was because he was building something up, instead of tearing it down. Helping someone's life get a little bit better, instead of making it worse.

Maybe it was time to do a little of what he'd talked to Carl about in the bar months ago, and start doing good, to try and make up for all the pain he'd caused over the years, even if it was just a little at a time.

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OOM: Night Before the Allpocalypse

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 02:50:58 GMT

It's quieter in the upstairs hallway, and there's less evidence of impending disaster up here. It's almost enough to allow you to forget what's going on downstairs, or to write it off.

Almost. Not quite.

Jack turns to Beckett as they reach his room. "You want to come in for one more drink?"

He doesn't want to say it out loud, but there's a part of him that doesn't want to be alone just yet.

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DR: Jack and Beckett, Post-"Knockout"

Tue, 27 Dec 2011 19:59:47 GMT

It always starts out as an ordinary day.

Jack's got his bag slung over his shoulder, ready to head out to his world for a while. Only when he opens the door, it's not the tiny apartment he's rented in Lexington that he sees. Instead, it's sidewalk and tall apartment buildings. Turning his head, he sees yellow cabs and New York licence plates, behind him apparently an ordinary phone booth.

Something cold settles in his stomach; there are only a few reasons for the bar to have dropped him off somewhere other than the place where he'd walked in, and none of them are good.

Following a hunch, he covers the sidewalk between him and the nearest apartment building in a couple strides, eyes searching the nameplates by the door, until he finds the one he's looking for.

K. Beckett.

The bar dropped him off at her home, not the precinct, not a hospital.

(not a morgue, a church or a cemetery)

Telling himself that it can't be that bad if he's been kicked out of the bar at her apartment building, he presses the button to buzz her apartment.

If only the butterflies in his stomach were listening.

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trigger_man

OOM: If You Go Out (Slenderman Plot)

OOM: September 2014; Lexington, Kentucky

OOM: Night Before the Allpocalypse

DR: Jack and Beckett, Post-"Knockout"