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“Uh... questioning's over! Your prize is this lovely gift basket of soaps and lotions! Stay fragnant, have a good light– fragrant! Night! BYE!”
Caine snaps his fingers, and suddenly, Jax is back in his room in a heap on the floor, blinking slowly. His skin feels like static.
He can’t really think, so he just sits.
…What did you just do?
You picked the good ending, where you realize you'd rather stay with me than go back to that pesky old Macroverse, or whatever we decide to call it!
The good ending.
The good ending.
He blinks again. They can’t die here. They can’t. And yet he can’t breathe. He brings a gloved hand to his chest and clutches at it, eyes glued to the floor. The good ending.
What did you just do?
But he didn’t mean to. He didn’t mean to, did he? It’s blank, even still. He was in the back of the room, and he couldn’t– and then he saw– and then, it goes dark, and his fist is decisively on the red button. And everyone is staring at him, and Pomni is staring at him, and Ragatha–
Jax’s eyes trace to the corner of the room again. It looks darker than the rest of the nursery. It’s a room that doesn’t really fit him, but it fit him when he first… got here. He backs away from the corner until his back hits the bed and he jumps away from it, as if it was some big fucking shock. What did he think was going to be there? Calm down, goddamnit. Not this again. Not this again. He doesn’t look at the picture still left turned around on the wall. He doesn’t look at it. He doesn’t look at it.
Things go dark again for a moment.
When he comes to, he’s holding a crumpled polaroid picture in his hand. His chest heaves with shallow breaths.
He can’t do anything but stare at it.
And then he’s reaching up to all of them, and he’s yanking them from the wall, balling them all up in his hands. One by one, they all become crumpled up balls in one giant horde in his hands. He shoves them in the nightstand drawer and slams it shut.
FUCK–
He slams his fingers in the drawer. He yelps and pulls his hand out, gritting his teeth and holding the fist of his free hand up to his mouth to stifle any noises that threaten to come out. His hand throbs, stinging and screaming at him, but he can’t find it in himself to feel upset about it. He can’t find it in himself to feel at all. He flops down his side, onto the covers, and stares at the wall, letting the ache in his fingers anchor him.
You… you mean… this was all…?
An adventure! Yes! And one I've been cooking up for a good long while.
Who even cares? He knew it was an adventure from the start, he knew it would all blow up in their faces. He told them this would happen, he told them all. He told Pomni.
He told her.
There’s a sudden light in his room. He stirs slightly, pulling himself up just enough to see what the disturbance is.
“Jax?”
Pomni stands in the doorway, eyes wide. They’re already wide, they take up half her damn face, but they– they look bigger now. How did she even…
Oh.
Right.
He left his door unlocked when they came and got him earlier.
He doesn’t really have the energy to respond. He flops back on the bed and waits for her to leave.
“Jax? Are you…” She doesn’t finish her sentence, but he hears timid footsteps coming closer. The light doesn’t go away. Unluckily for him, he’s laying on his side, and she’s eye level with him when she approaches. She offers a weak smile that she can only keep up for a second. “Hey.”
He’s silent. He feels like his chest might be heaving. When was the last time he breathed? He can’t remember. Has he done that since he was snapped back into his bedroom?
She stares at him for a moment, eyes more tired than worried. Instead of speaking, she hops up on the bed (with considerable effort) and perches at the edge. She nudges his foot with her elbow. He twitches but doesn’t speak. Can’t speak. Not sure if he wants to. He feels her shifting around on the bed, and then a small hand is holding his. A finger gently traces the lower part of his fingers, where he slammed it into the drawer. Then it just… stays. He doesn’t have the energy to hold on, but he doesn’t have the strength to push it away. He doesn’t mind it being there, really.
Everything's gonna be okay.
When Pomni first got here, her voice was shrill to him. Too high pitched, too anxious, too questioning. He didn’t like hearing her speak. And then it just sort of… grew on him. Became soft, became… something else. Something he likes listening to.
The same hand that was holding his suddenly shifts and moves. Her hands are gripping his shoulders and pulling him upright, reaching upward so far that he might laugh if he had the energy.
He breathes.
“You know,” she murmurs, eyes refusing to meet his until she seems to gather herself enough to look at him. “I still think it’s true. Everything is gonna be okay. I mean… I think.” She sounds uncertain.
He’s certain, though. He knows she’s wrong. Can’t be okay while they’re stuck in here.
His eyes won’t focus on her. It’s just a blur of blue and red and blue and red and blue and red buttons and suddenly it’s black and it’s dark and his hand is on the red one and he can’t breathe and what did he just do– WHY did Caine make him– did Caine make him–
“Hey, hey, breathe, calm down, it’s okay.” Pomni’s voice is still soft, but suddenly more anxious. She seems at a loss for a moment, but he’s suddenly being pulled forward, and her hand is gently guiding the back of his head. He lets his face be buried in her shoulder, and he even allows her to keep holding him there. He finds himself shaking. She doesn’t seem to mind, if she notices at all. “Really. It’s okay,” she murmurs, pulling him closer.
They’re silent. It’s not necessarily a comfortable silence, certainly not a peaceful one, but it’s the one they settle on. He lets himself sit in it, content in not moving. She doesn’t seem to care that he doesn’t hug her back. He can’t really focus on anything for too long.
He’s not sure when the sitting becomes laying down, with his head on her chest, and both of her arms wrapped securely around him and his arms tucked up to his own chest. He’s not sure why he doesn’t mind it.
But he doesn’t mind at all. In fact, he might be fine if it stayed like this forever.