Change, Jack/Sky
Title: Change
Pairing: Jack/Sky
Rating: PG
A/N: In which I turn the prompt 'laughter' into something depressing.
Laughter. It seemed all he could hear. The others, all four of them, giggling and howling over some show, some joke, some piece of gossip. He should go and join them, he knew he should - team-bonding and all that. But this wasn’t a day he felt like he could even pretend to feel happy.
Last year, this hadn’t been so hard. He, Syd and Bridge hadn’t been as close. If he disappeared for a day, they didn’t really notice. He hadn’t minded so much either, but sometime in the past year, ‘alone’ had stopped meaning ‘good’ and ‘comfortable’.
Like, at this moment, as pathetic as he told himself it was, he wanted someone. Someone who would come and distract him, take his mind off things. More than someone, he wanted Jack. Maybe if he asked, the other boy would come. But Sky wasn’t sure how to ask for things like that.
So he lay alone, waiting for the call from reception to say that his mother had arrived, to take him to visit his father’s grave.
*
Jack didn’t know why he’d left the others, only that laughing and having fun without Sky being there made him feel uncomfortable. Of course, Sky was probably much happier doing extra training or alphabetising his sock drawer or whatever it was he did than he would be watching old comedies, but Jack still wanted him there.
What had started as an idle thought soon became more time-consuming, as he discovered Sky wasn’t in his room, the training rooms, the command centre, or even, as Jack had hoped in a moment of extreme optimism, in Jack’s room. Running out of ideas, he went to check the obstacle courses - only to see Sky in the public reception area as he cut through.
The woman standing next to Sky looked vaguely familiar, and Jack frowned, trying to place her. Nurse? Tech assistant? One of the admin staff?
He frowned, studying her a bit harder, making an attempt at using those ‘observational skills’ the instructors spent so long trying to drill into him. Tall, blue eyes, blonde hair showing grey at the roots, though she didn’t look that old. In fact, she looked about the right age for…
Oh. Sky’s mother. Seeing them together, the resemblance was obvious.
Congratulating himself on taking the moment to work out who she was, rather than just charging over and making an idiot of himself, Jack headed over.
“Hey,” he said, giving his best non-delinquent, you-can-trust-me-with-your-son smile. “I’m Jack. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Her eyes dropped to the red on his jacket, and she seemed to draw back without actually moving. That was where Sky learned it, then. Still, she replied, “It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”
Awkward silence fell. Sky alternated between glaring at Jack and shooting glances at the door, which while fairly normal behaviour, didn’t really make the situation any easier. Jack resisted the urge to fidget, starting to regret his ‘meet the parents’ urge.
Sky’s mum saved the day. “So, you’re the current Red Ranger, Jack?”
Not exactly friendly, but at least it gave him something to say. “Yes, ma’am. And am I right in assuming you’re Sky’s…”
“Mother.”
“I was going to say sister,” he lied. The flattery didn’t have any noticeable affect: she looked just as blank as before.
What fun their family reunions must be.
“We were just leaving,” Sky told him.
His mother nodded. “You’re welcome to come, if you wish.”
Jack might have laughed at Sky’s expression, if he didn’t feel so shocked himself. He only just stopped himself from blurting out something stupid, managing a polite, “Thank you. That would be lovely.”
He sounded like one of those little old women Z used to mimic, with their formal manners and ‘ooh how lovely’s, but how else were you supposed to talk on meeting your boyfriend’s mother?
At least Sky wasn’t laughing at him. Instead, he looked…angry?
Oh well. They could argue about it later, and hopefully make-up after.
“So,” he muttered to Sky as they headed towards the doors. “Where are we going?”
Sky just glared, and Jack decided not to ask again.
*
They went to the same flower shop they always went to, boxes of fruit sitting outside and peeling green paint flaking off the sign. Sky couldn’t remember it ever changing, except that when they came in the summer there were different types of fruit.
And inside, his mother would have the same conversation with the same old man in his brown apron. And she’d come back out and tell Sky that Mr. Wilson had asked after him, sent his best wishes, and more recently, had seen him on the news.
Jack, sitting fidgeting beside him, was new. Sky found it harder to ignore him than usual.
His mother returned, carrying the red carnations she always bought. “Mr. Wilson asked about you, Sky. He said he’d seen you on the news. He sends his best wishes.” Then she paused, and added, “He’s seen you too, Jack. He sends his wishes to you too.”
And Sky realised that they’d had a different conversation from normal. This time, when Mr. Wilson waved them away from his window, he did it with a smile.
*
A graveyard. Jack should have guessed. A nice graveyard, with cut green grass and trees round the edge. Very middle-class: no wooden crosses put up by those who couldn’t afford more, but no big vaults or fancy carved monuments either.
Just simple headstones in neat rows, all modern and clean.
Neither Sky or his mum spoke. They both moved as if on auto-pilot; Sky’s mum trying not to squash the flowers in one hand, while carrying a water bottle in the other. Jack took the bottle from her, wondering why Sky didn’t.
But then, Sky didn’t look like he was noticing much.
Deciding he didn’t care what Sky’s mum thought, he took Sky’s hand. Sky, miracle of miracles, didn’t pull away. Just looked at Jack, then led him towards the gate into the graveyard.
Most graves had flowers, any fake ones of a nice high standard. A teddy bear nestled in front of one headstone, and Jack looked closer. He wished he hadn’t, when he saw the single year marked there.
To distract himself, he asked Sky, “Is there a church near here?”
“No.”
As conversations went, not the most successful Jack had ever had.
Sky’s mum arrived in front of a grave (plain black marble, very classy), and started removing dead flowers. No plastic alternatives here, and Jack wondered how often she visited. How often Sky visited.
He squeezed Sky’s hand, hoping it felt comforting. Sky didn’t respond.
“Is there a toilet near here?” he asked.
“Back at the car park.”
“I’ll meet you there, then,” he said. Maybe they needed some time alone.
*
Sky missed Jack’s hand. He flexed his fingers, trying to recall the feel of them being squeezed just too tight.
His mother looked up from arranging the flowers. “I like him,” she said.
“Jack?”
“Yes.”
Sky nodded. They didn’t normally speak here, at the grave.
“Maybe I could see him again sometime?” She sounded nervous, and he wondered why. “Sometime…sometime nicer.”
They never saw each other at ‘nice occasions’. Just here, four times a year, when they visited the same flower shop and came to kneel by a grave.
“Okay,” he said.
“You can phone me,” she said, sounding pleased. “Or send me a message, telling me when you’ve got time.” She smiled, clearing away dead leaves. “It’ll be nice.”
*
From the sounds of it, the others were still watching Bridge’s comedies. Sky hesitated, before walking past. Jack grabbed his arm to stop him.
Sky glared.
“Come on,” said Jack. “Come watch.”
Sky hesitated. Jack could almost see him trying to think of an excuse, so he could go and mope.
“It’ll be fun,” he said. “Except for when laughing becomes painful. Then it’s not so fun.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
Jack probably wouldn’t either, but thankfully he didn’t have any graves to visit. “Come on. That’s an order.”
“You can’t - ”
Jack gave Sky’s arm another tug. “I can. Come on.”
And whether because he wanted to, or just because he realised resisting was pointless, Sky followed him in.
Pairing: Jack/Sky
Rating: PG
A/N: In which I turn the prompt 'laughter' into something depressing.
Laughter. It seemed all he could hear. The others, all four of them, giggling and howling over some show, some joke, some piece of gossip. He should go and join them, he knew he should - team-bonding and all that. But this wasn’t a day he felt like he could even pretend to feel happy.
Last year, this hadn’t been so hard. He, Syd and Bridge hadn’t been as close. If he disappeared for a day, they didn’t really notice. He hadn’t minded so much either, but sometime in the past year, ‘alone’ had stopped meaning ‘good’ and ‘comfortable’.
Like, at this moment, as pathetic as he told himself it was, he wanted someone. Someone who would come and distract him, take his mind off things. More than someone, he wanted Jack. Maybe if he asked, the other boy would come. But Sky wasn’t sure how to ask for things like that.
So he lay alone, waiting for the call from reception to say that his mother had arrived, to take him to visit his father’s grave.
*
Jack didn’t know why he’d left the others, only that laughing and having fun without Sky being there made him feel uncomfortable. Of course, Sky was probably much happier doing extra training or alphabetising his sock drawer or whatever it was he did than he would be watching old comedies, but Jack still wanted him there.
What had started as an idle thought soon became more time-consuming, as he discovered Sky wasn’t in his room, the training rooms, the command centre, or even, as Jack had hoped in a moment of extreme optimism, in Jack’s room. Running out of ideas, he went to check the obstacle courses - only to see Sky in the public reception area as he cut through.
The woman standing next to Sky looked vaguely familiar, and Jack frowned, trying to place her. Nurse? Tech assistant? One of the admin staff?
He frowned, studying her a bit harder, making an attempt at using those ‘observational skills’ the instructors spent so long trying to drill into him. Tall, blue eyes, blonde hair showing grey at the roots, though she didn’t look that old. In fact, she looked about the right age for…
Oh. Sky’s mother. Seeing them together, the resemblance was obvious.
Congratulating himself on taking the moment to work out who she was, rather than just charging over and making an idiot of himself, Jack headed over.
“Hey,” he said, giving his best non-delinquent, you-can-trust-me-with-your-son smile. “I’m Jack. Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Her eyes dropped to the red on his jacket, and she seemed to draw back without actually moving. That was where Sky learned it, then. Still, she replied, “It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”
Awkward silence fell. Sky alternated between glaring at Jack and shooting glances at the door, which while fairly normal behaviour, didn’t really make the situation any easier. Jack resisted the urge to fidget, starting to regret his ‘meet the parents’ urge.
Sky’s mum saved the day. “So, you’re the current Red Ranger, Jack?”
Not exactly friendly, but at least it gave him something to say. “Yes, ma’am. And am I right in assuming you’re Sky’s…”
“Mother.”
“I was going to say sister,” he lied. The flattery didn’t have any noticeable affect: she looked just as blank as before.
What fun their family reunions must be.
“We were just leaving,” Sky told him.
His mother nodded. “You’re welcome to come, if you wish.”
Jack might have laughed at Sky’s expression, if he didn’t feel so shocked himself. He only just stopped himself from blurting out something stupid, managing a polite, “Thank you. That would be lovely.”
He sounded like one of those little old women Z used to mimic, with their formal manners and ‘ooh how lovely’s, but how else were you supposed to talk on meeting your boyfriend’s mother?
At least Sky wasn’t laughing at him. Instead, he looked…angry?
Oh well. They could argue about it later, and hopefully make-up after.
“So,” he muttered to Sky as they headed towards the doors. “Where are we going?”
Sky just glared, and Jack decided not to ask again.
*
They went to the same flower shop they always went to, boxes of fruit sitting outside and peeling green paint flaking off the sign. Sky couldn’t remember it ever changing, except that when they came in the summer there were different types of fruit.
And inside, his mother would have the same conversation with the same old man in his brown apron. And she’d come back out and tell Sky that Mr. Wilson had asked after him, sent his best wishes, and more recently, had seen him on the news.
Jack, sitting fidgeting beside him, was new. Sky found it harder to ignore him than usual.
His mother returned, carrying the red carnations she always bought. “Mr. Wilson asked about you, Sky. He said he’d seen you on the news. He sends his best wishes.” Then she paused, and added, “He’s seen you too, Jack. He sends his wishes to you too.”
And Sky realised that they’d had a different conversation from normal. This time, when Mr. Wilson waved them away from his window, he did it with a smile.
*
A graveyard. Jack should have guessed. A nice graveyard, with cut green grass and trees round the edge. Very middle-class: no wooden crosses put up by those who couldn’t afford more, but no big vaults or fancy carved monuments either.
Just simple headstones in neat rows, all modern and clean.
Neither Sky or his mum spoke. They both moved as if on auto-pilot; Sky’s mum trying not to squash the flowers in one hand, while carrying a water bottle in the other. Jack took the bottle from her, wondering why Sky didn’t.
But then, Sky didn’t look like he was noticing much.
Deciding he didn’t care what Sky’s mum thought, he took Sky’s hand. Sky, miracle of miracles, didn’t pull away. Just looked at Jack, then led him towards the gate into the graveyard.
Most graves had flowers, any fake ones of a nice high standard. A teddy bear nestled in front of one headstone, and Jack looked closer. He wished he hadn’t, when he saw the single year marked there.
To distract himself, he asked Sky, “Is there a church near here?”
“No.”
As conversations went, not the most successful Jack had ever had.
Sky’s mum arrived in front of a grave (plain black marble, very classy), and started removing dead flowers. No plastic alternatives here, and Jack wondered how often she visited. How often Sky visited.
He squeezed Sky’s hand, hoping it felt comforting. Sky didn’t respond.
“Is there a toilet near here?” he asked.
“Back at the car park.”
“I’ll meet you there, then,” he said. Maybe they needed some time alone.
*
Sky missed Jack’s hand. He flexed his fingers, trying to recall the feel of them being squeezed just too tight.
His mother looked up from arranging the flowers. “I like him,” she said.
“Jack?”
“Yes.”
Sky nodded. They didn’t normally speak here, at the grave.
“Maybe I could see him again sometime?” She sounded nervous, and he wondered why. “Sometime…sometime nicer.”
They never saw each other at ‘nice occasions’. Just here, four times a year, when they visited the same flower shop and came to kneel by a grave.
“Okay,” he said.
“You can phone me,” she said, sounding pleased. “Or send me a message, telling me when you’ve got time.” She smiled, clearing away dead leaves. “It’ll be nice.”
*
From the sounds of it, the others were still watching Bridge’s comedies. Sky hesitated, before walking past. Jack grabbed his arm to stop him.
Sky glared.
“Come on,” said Jack. “Come watch.”
Sky hesitated. Jack could almost see him trying to think of an excuse, so he could go and mope.
“It’ll be fun,” he said. “Except for when laughing becomes painful. Then it’s not so fun.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
Jack probably wouldn’t either, but thankfully he didn’t have any graves to visit. “Come on. That’s an order.”
“You can’t - ”
Jack gave Sky’s arm another tug. “I can. Come on.”
And whether because he wanted to, or just because he realised resisting was pointless, Sky followed him in.