Jack's Room--215, Thursday Evening
Sam knocked on the door, then remembered she had a key and knew how to use it. She opened the door and peeked in, surprised by the dark and the quiet. "Jack?"
Jack hadn't left his room since after class yesterday. Weird dreams, more like fragments of memory, and a blinding headache had made him restless, but he'd been in bed, dozing fitfully, since Parker had tucked him in last night. He suspected he was sick, but a couple of aspirin and a hefty dose of denial let him pretend he wasn't.
Sam knocked on the door, then remembered she had a key and knew how to use it. She opened the door and peeked in, surprised by the dark and the quiet. "Jack?"
He vaguely registered his name, but he couldn't muster up the energy to open his eyes. A hand waved from under the blanket, and he croaked out a greeting.
"Oh, poor you," Sam whispered, sitting down on the side of the bed. She hated being sick herself and was in the mood to do a little pampering. "Want me to make you some tea? Broth? Read to you? Do you need any medicine?"
"Sam?" Jack opened his eyes and smiled weakly up at her. "Think I'm sick." He moved closer until he could rest his head against her leg. "Tea? Please?"
"Heeey," Sam brushed a hand over his hair. His forehead felt warm. "I think I can manage tea."
"Thank you." Jack leaned gratefully into her touch. "Stuff's over there," and he waved a hand in the general direction of the bar fridge. "Did you get your plant?" he suddenly asked, wondering if she would be mad that he'd broken into her room.
Sam got up and started heating the water. "I did, thank you. It was very sweet--she seems to like Bonnie Raitt." She poured Jack a small glass of water and gave him two more tylenol. "Here. I think you may have a fever."
Jack watched her through half-lidded eyes. "You said you liked them so you should have one." He propped himself up enough to take water and pills, draining the glass, then collapsed back down. "I don't get sick," he protested, then rubbed his head. "Except I think you're right. Explains why my head feels like it's about to explode."
Sam was a little shaken by exactly how simple that idea, of her having something just because she wanted it, seemed to be to Jack. She covered it by beginning to brew tea, then adding honey. "I guess you do get sick. So rest, and I'll be here if you need anything." She put it on the nightstand to steep, then pulled a chair over, propping her feet up on the bed.
Jack moved to the edge of the bed so he could drape an arm over her ankles, and reached for the tea. "You don't have anything better to do than watch me sleep?" It was said with a small grin, but his eyes were hopeful. "Won't that be kind of boring?"
"You won't remember, or maybe didn't know in the first place, since we weren't that close then, obviously, but I spent a month earlier this year watching Jack, er, the other Jack," she blinked, realizing that she didn't ache quite so much when she thought of him, and how wrong that had gone, "when he had pneumonia. And that was in the infirmary, which wasn't nearly as nice and comfy as this. You have better chairs."
"I can entertain myself quite well, thanks," Sam picked up the book on particle physics she'd left on the nightstand, "and I'll be here if you wake up and need something, or if you just get bored and want to chat."
"Okay." He wasn't going to argue, not when he really wanted her to stay. He drained his tea, wincing at the heat, and settled back down, arm still over her ankles. "Thank you," he said softly, closing his eyes, head still hurting - everything still hurting - but somehow it wasn't so bad with Sam there.
"You're welcome. Now sleep." Sam ordered. "I'll be here when you wake up."
"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, smiling slightly.
It took him awhile, but he finally fell back into a restless sleep.
Sam opened her book and began reading, glancing over at Jack occasionally and frowning with concern.
Darkness resolved into noise and chatter and bright lights and chaos and he knew where this was.
This was where he'd learned to cook.
He was sixteen, stuck in a resort city with no job and times had been getting desperate. He'd found a guy--Aaron--charmed him, seduced him, and he'd gotten Jack in, gotten him a job as a waiter. The place was huge, a kingdom in the middle of the city, the waitstaff a little community inside it. Close knit, but Aaron had brought him in, and Jack had convinced them to accept him. Wasn't difficult; it was what he did.
But he didn't know when this was.
Jack was holding court in the break-room.
The door opened and he knew.
Standing in the doorway was a huge, blue, brute of an alien. Name of Rang. Assistant chef, and he was looking for a new bed-mate. Had been ever since the last had limped away one night. Assistant chef, and his word was close to law in this place. He could give anyone a chance. Give them a future, get them into the inner sanctum. But at a hefty cost. Rang was a brute, pure and simple: short-tempered and violent, in everything he did.
Jack watched him scanning the room. No one acknowledged his presence, but their collective attention was focused on him, tension and fear and anticipation all braided together into something so taut it would have sung if you'd plucked it. Only one reason he was there, and whoever he picked could either say yes or--well, there really wasn't another option. Not one that would leave the chosen with job and limbs intact.
He watched his head swivel as he scanned the room. And stop at Aaron. Aaron, not innocent--never innocent--but sweet and good-natured and the one Jack spent most of his nights with. Who had a terrible crush on Jack that was rapidly turning into something more. Which Jack knew, because he'd used it more than once.
It was easy to see why Rang had focused on him. It was the same reason Jack had. He was beautiful, in a fragile kind of way; pale, all long limbs and elegant cheekbones. Gentle. Vulnerable. Weak. You could see it just by looking at him.
Rang's gaze locked onto Aaron, and he never even noticed, just kept chattering away.
Jack was up and out of his chair and across the room, getting in Rang's way, pressing his body against his, hands already roaming, before he even realised he'd decided to move. It was so easy to convince him Jack was everything he wanted. And it got Jack everything he wanted. Better job, more money, endless perks, training that he could use. And the hatred of almost all the waitstaff. Not that he cared. If they were too stupid or too cowardly to recognise an opportunity when it walked in on them, it was their loss.
They all hated him. Except for Aaron. Aaron, and his wounded eyes. Watching Jack. Worrying about Jack. Jack avoided him, which was easily done. Until Aaron had cornered him.
This was the bit he didn't like to remember.
"Why?" Aaron's hands reaching for him and he'd neatly sidestepped them, folding his arms and pasting on a sneer.
"Why do you think?"
Confusion and hurt and disbelief chasing each other across the beautiful face as Aaron had stared at him. "But, you're not like that."
"Why do you think I seduced you in the first place?" Deliberate coldness, deliberate cruelty, and there was truth to it. "You couldn't get me anything else. Rang could."
Watching Aaron's face crumple, watching him blink back tears, and stepping forward to make it worse. One hand resting on his shoulder, adopting a caring, concerned, amused tone. "You're a sweet kid, Aaron. But you were a means to an end. An enjoyable means, don't get me wrong, but that's all you were."
He didn't even try and block the punch, just turned slightly to deflect it.
Bright eyed, Aaron had glared at him then turned and walked away.
Jack turned in his sleep, reaching instinctively for the person he knew was there.
Sam took his hand and held it in hers as she read.
[ooc: Pre-played with time_agent and no IC interaction on above post is possible. That being said, if anyone wants to stop by and chat quietly with Sam and not wake Jack, she's here and it's open.]