Chapter Text
Luck isn’t on Jack’s side.
Not when he returns from a grueling night shift at the Pitt with his shoulders stiff, a headache blooming in the back of his skull and the entrance to the underground car park of his apartment complex being blocked by a massive moving truck.
The incredibly obnoxious blue and yellow advertisement with a clipart of a cheerful man pointing out a swift and reliable logistics firm might just be another cruel joke the early morning is playing on him. Jack has to avert his gaze from the mocking sight, the very contrary to what he is feeling at this moment.
He lets out an exasperated sigh and brushes his hands over his tired face, as if closing his eyes and opening them again would make the obstacle in front of him disappear. All he wants is to come home, get off his prothesis and fall into bed. And yet, some airhead decided that was too much to ask. Jack wonders only for a few seconds what his next move should be, before he decides that everyone else can have a shitty start to their morning as well by slamming on his horn. It doesn’t seem to be an out of proportion reaction for the situation at all.
The loud noise tears through the early morning tranquility and he almost feels bad. But then he remembers someone was stupid enough to stand in a very obvious no parking zone and the guilt lessens.
After a few seconds he honks again. And again.
He can just imagine his neighbors cursing at whoever just ripped them from their peaceful sleep. And yet he doesn’t feel remorse. After all, the world doesn’t have any mercy on him today either. It’s only fair to dish it out for once.
Then he finally spots a few men in blue overalls hurrying out the front entrance and he watches them look between their truck and him, waiting in his car. The realization must hit at one point because a burly guy with a thick, dark beard gives Jack an almost apologetic look and swirls his pointer finger in the air, seemingly indicating they will finally move out of his way.
Jack looks on with little more patience to spare as the guy gets in the driver’s cab. But then the truck starts to move and he is ultimately able to drive down the entrance lane.
He shakes his agitated head all the way to his parking spot and gets out of his car with a bit more huffing and puffing than usual. God, he really needs to chuck some painkillers and catch up on some sleep. He is running on fumes again and his body is clearly expressing his need for a healthier way of coping.
This one time he might actually give in and not get up before his alarm indicates it.
He swings his backpack onto his shoulder, locks his car and rather cumbersomely makes his way over to the elevator. Its not far away, perks of having the disabled parking space. A small mercy of the morning. The call button is clicked in silence and Jack hangs his head and closes his eyes in a mock powernap.
Jack ponders for a moment if he should delay his collision with his mattress a few more minutes in lieu of quickly washing off the hospital smells and memories, yet settles on making a rather spontaneous decision once he makes it inside his apartment. He leans his palm against the metal framing of the elevator and taps his finger impatiently.
What is taken so damn long?
Jack risks a quick look at the illuminated number at the top of the lifts display and frowns when it shows the ground floor. It can’t take much longer for it to come down and finally take him upstairs.
In theory.
His hope is quickly thwarted when he watches the minutes tick by on his wrist watch and yet the indicator on the elevator doesn’t change once. Frustration starts to bubble inside his chest, a dangerous rumbling that he likes to keep under lock and key. Were he to explode, he wasn’t sure he would make a quick enough recovery with all the backlog of exasperation, to make it to his next shift and not yell at the first person that looked at him the wrong way.
Jack lets out an annoyed sound and halfheartedly kicks the wall. He wonders what he had done to receive this much bad karma, making his simple trip home such a hellish experience. But then, at long last, the telltale ding of the elevator informs of its arrival and he is able to breathe away his vexation once more.
The doors open with the slightest screech and Jack is ready to step inside and end this awful day, when his gaze travels to the small space and makes an irritating observation. The entire lift is occupied by moving boxes and furniture, stacked in an almost masterful way and nearly all the way to the ceiling. It is very clear there is no space for him. And the very obvious predicament nearly knocks him off kilter for good.
With heavy breaths in and out he watches as the doors close right in front of his face. He lets it happen. What other choice does he even have? Clamber over all the stuff and sit right on top, hoping it doesn’t have less stability than what the first impression lets him believe?
Defeated and severely done with the day, he walks to the door leading to the staircase. The automatic light turns on when he steps inside and he eyes the steps with a wary look before starting his harder than necessary journey upwards.
He feels like at some point during his shift he must have encountered a witch or something. Someone that must have been less than pleased with his services and that put a curse on him in revenge. There is no other way why he is actively being kept from going to sleep.
With aching bones and joints he climbs up the stairs, one step at a time. Trying his utmost to breathe away both pain and frustration. He is only partly successful.
It is at the second landing that he encounters another victim of the artfully blocked elevator. The door leading to the staircase gets pushed open with a rather ungraceful grunt and you step in. Jack can’t make out who you might be as you clearly struggle with transporting a full-length mirror which hides almost your entire body and face from him, but from the little he can see, he deduces you must be someone unfamiliar to him.
Jack wouldn’t claim he knew all the ins and outs of this house but he is positive he has seen all his neighbors at least once in passing. The muttering and cursing falling from your lips are uttered in a voice he can’t place or connect to any of his neighbors faces. His interest is only slightly peaked at that realization. Not enough to actively look for answers to questions he has no energy to ask right now.
So, Jack remains silent, having come to a semi voluntary halt one step before the landing. He watches the spectacle in front of him, the way you clearly struggle to hold the mirror and position it in a way that makes it possible to walk up the stairs without tripping. He thinks about offering help for a moment, then figures he unfortunately can’t be bothered with it at this time. He is plain and simple done for the day.
May he be cursed once again for forgetting his manners and how to be a gentleman. But sadly, his pensum of helpfulness has been used up by the patients at work and he really, really wants to just enter his apartment and close out the rest of the world for a few hours.
Jack watches on for only a few seconds longer how you manage to get up a whopping two steps before needing to adjust your grip and catch your breath, then he decides it’s time to overtake you and your mirror in a very civil and unobtrusive way.
In hindsight, he maybe should’ve made himself known. He probably could’ve at least made a noise with his shoe. Something. Anything really.
Yet, he does none of that. So, it’s really not that much of a surprise when you let out a startled gasp followed by an “Oh, shit!”, after he passes by you.
The next few seconds consist of you very dramatically leaning backwards, almost falling down the impressive two steps you climbed so far and your fingers letting go of your mirror in favor of gripping the handrail as to not land straight on your ass. It is almost like slow motion, the way you both watch your heavily framed mirror sail down the little distance you had scaled. The way it makes contact with the tiled floor at the bottom of the stairs.
For the grand finale of this morning from hell, there is an ear-splitting crash and then shattering of glass that seems to echo through the hallway like a bell toll signaling it’s time to be collected for a trip to the nether.
If only Jack wasn't there already.
He pauses with baited breath, his eyes jumping to the mirror, which now lays broken in a thousand pieces. For someone else the way they have exploded out from underneath the frame might be a display of art—museum-worthy even.
Yet, when his eyes flicker to you, he doesn’t see awe. He only sees heartbreak and devastation. His insides clench for a beat. He lets out a strangled cough. And then, like a switch is flicked inside your brain, you seem to register him again and your face changes into an unreadable expression.
He watches for a sign of anger, an accusation stewing behind your eyes. He is honestly ready to be attacked or at least somewhat prepared to hear you ask the pretty much warranted question, why he had to scare you like that. But it doesn’t come.
Instead, your gaze finds his and you look startled all over again. Jack wonders if the frown and deep shadows beneath his eyes scare you into silence and if you would’ve dropped another mirror at his appearance. That would definitely scratch at his ego enough to make him go to sleep for 12 hours straight, just to look more presentable.
Not that he needs or wants to look presentable for a stranger. Though he might consider again, with the way you are looking at him, as if he is a literal ghost. Maybe he really needs to hit the hay for the sake of everyone else. He doesn’t feel like scaring any more people today.
It must be a sign. Sleep over everything else.
So, Jack continues the ways of his ungentlemanly behavior and instead of coming up with an apology or a way to help you clean up this mess, he simply presses his lips together in a tight line and nods in a mildly pitiful acknowledgment.
Then he turns away and continues going up the stairs.
If he hears a sniffle from downstairs when he finally reaches his floor, it doesn’t concern him for once.