(no subject)
Jack's been keeping an eye on Beckett, and he's starting to have to admit to himself that it's not just out of ordinary human concern. He's worried about her, particularly considering the hallucinations she'd had. Which means that he's started to see her as more than an acquaintance. Maybe not quite a friend, yet, but more than just someone whose name he knows.
He's not sure how he feels about this. He doesn't want to get close to anyone; getting close means getting hurt eventually. And it's not himself getting hurt that he's really worried about.
But even with those misgivings he can't not head up to Beckett's room, carrying a tray from Bar with the kinds of things she needs, or should have. Chicken soup, orange juice, ginger ale, kleenex; it might have been Bar's idea, but Jack had been intending to get a few things anyway.
He shifts the tray to one hand so he can knock on the door. He has her key, of course, but he can't be sure she isn't taking a bath to try and cool off or that she wants the company.
He's not sure how he feels about this. He doesn't want to get close to anyone; getting close means getting hurt eventually. And it's not himself getting hurt that he's really worried about.
But even with those misgivings he can't not head up to Beckett's room, carrying a tray from Bar with the kinds of things she needs, or should have. Chicken soup, orange juice, ginger ale, kleenex; it might have been Bar's idea, but Jack had been intending to get a few things anyway.
He shifts the tray to one hand so he can knock on the door. He has her key, of course, but he can't be sure she isn't taking a bath to try and cool off or that she wants the company.