VOICE ✪ LIGHTS WILL GUIDE YOU HOME & IGNITE YOUR BONES & I WILL TRY TO FIX YOU

[slaying]

[ the first thing she notices is cupcake mewing low and lonely in the hall. buffy clucks her tongue and stoops to spoil the cat, caressing the soft strip of short fur along the feline nose. a small smile and a few gentle words; from this angle, she can see that mccoy's door is open. ajar. was he home

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[lists_to_port]

[When he hears this request--this command--Jack Sparrow takes off from Cullen House at a sprint. Buffy never has called him like this. Her tone of voice has sent chills right up his spine.

He makes the journey in a record time of twenty-seven minutes. For once, Jack enters Seven by the front door.]

Buffy?!

[slaying]

"...In here."

Her voice could be traced back to the doctor's bedroom. Still his room -- it was too fresh to think in any other terms. It would always be too fresh, she felt. Her journal sat a few feet off. Closed.

Buffy was cradling Cupcake in her arms and the two were sitting on the floor.

[lists_to_port]

"Buffy?" he said again, more quietly this time. There she was, huddled up on the floor with Cupcake. The first thing Jack could think was that something was wrong with Hector's mother. She was ill, or injured, and Buffy needed him to.....something. He didn't notice anything amiss about the state of things, so focused was he on Buffy's Emergency. Whatever it was.

"You're.....alright?"

[slaying]

"Jack." It took her a couple of tries to even say his name. "It's...Oh, God. I'm so sorry."

She tried very hard to push the misfortune away. To project it. This was a hard-sell when her eyes were already red.

[lists_to_port]

"Sorry, love? You don't have to

[slaying]

"Home," she choked the word out. Angry. "Not gone. Home."

A long, plaintive meow from the cat in her arms. Buffy held her closer. Dropping her head, pressing her lips against the space between those two cat ears. She whispered something; it was too quiet to hear.

[lists_to_port]

"Disease and danger? And Joanna." If he could hold to the idea of Joanna, well---that was something. A little dark-haired girl with braids, reaching her arms around her father's neck.

[slaying]

She felt the muscles of her throat convulsing with every new attempt to batten down. It made speaking such a monumental effort. Each new string of words took an age to reach her lips.

"Joanna," Buffy agreed in a voice that remained miserable.

[lists_to_port]

"A man would do anything for his daughter, McCoy especially." Jack's voice wasn't strained or struggling; it was more like gravel. He touched her shoulder, tentatively, finding a bit of feeling coming back into his limbs after the initial shock.

There would be aftershocks, of course.

[slaying]

Her first reaction was one of tightening. Not quite a recoil but something in the recoil territory. She immediately regretted it. They, she knew, were in one very similar boat. One should play pillar to the other: surrogate sister and best friend.

Gently, lovingly, she let Cupcake back onto the floor. The cat showed some finer appreciation for the moment and took the few padded steps left to bump her head against Jack's knee.

"Like take her ice-skating. He promised."

[lists_to_port]

But will he remember that promise?

"McCoy on ice," Jack mused, scratching Cupcake's chin. The cat purred and meowed and settled herself against him. There was no lap, but she seemed content with leaning back against his knees. Jack Sparrow always had Bangly Things Of Interest to Cats. Also? He sang Songs That Delighted Cats. And let's not forget Cat Treats, which the pirate often handed out to Cupcake behind McCoy and Buffy's backs. None were on offer just now, however.

"He's a tall man; the falling will not be pleasant."

[slaying]

She watched Cupcake. Not Jack.

"Took him skating, once. Just once. I don't even know how I convinced him..." Puppydog eyes. There had been very little that the Slayer hadn't been able to persuade the doctor into. He, she knew, had doted on her.

[lists_to_port]

"Buffy? It's likely he took very little convincing at all."

[slaying]

"He fell, at first. And then I didn't let him fall at all."

She traced the woodgrain with a fingernail. Hers were still green and nearly still unchipped.

[lists_to_port]

He watched the motion of her fingers and was oddly reminded of his own unconscious, fretful behavior in the pillory. No---no, he couldn't let her get like that. This was Buffy, of course, but--it was also McCoy. There was a slight pressure of his fingers against her shoulder. Quietly:

"Better than us, eh? Looked after people. Not a fighter--something better."

[slaying]

"Better than us."

This second touch ignited a different sort of passion. Something a little less reserved. She reached for his arm and hauled herself closer -- not into a hug but instead into a fierce proximity. Her knees were jammed up against the side of his thigh. Her chin on his shoulder.