Blackshot Ghosts [Closed]

[CastoffCaptain]

Her jaw tensed. Leo's first question-statement could have been an open-handed slap at her sanity, rather than a comment on her physical health. She wouldn't put it past him. She wouldn't put it past anyone, good, bad, stupid, or sinner, and had heard it so often it hardly fazed her at this point. But Leo had been upstairs, and it negated the possibility that he was calling her coo coo. One tick in his Boy Scout box for him. Kara answered that query with a half-nod, although she ignored the proffered plate for now; she'd eat when Jaxon ate, no matter how much her stomach tried to imitate Leo's grumbling.

Hiking the side of her rump up onto a bar stool, Kara steadied herself by stretching her un-bruised leg to the floor, and then straightened her reliquary's chain. She then unclasped the destroyed remains of her choker and set it left of breakfast, making a little moue of disgust at the state of the d-rings. Jaxon's grab had twisted them at their thinnest points, snapping their connecting chains and tearing the cloth she'd sewn them into. Repair would be easy, but tedious. Definitely not worth it.

That Leo's questions had nothing to do with the supernatural startled her, although she didn't let it show. It spoke volumes about him, and when she met his gaze again, it was with a steady, though carefully hedged admiration. Tick mark two for the Boy Scout, and a third--compassion came first for him, and freak-outs weren't an option. At least not what he'd experienced so far.

Good for him.

Her shoulder lifted in a shrug. "He's not bleeding outwardly from what I can tell, but he could probably have three yards of intestines hanging out and he'd tell you it was a jump rope. I don't think anything's broken. He just needs some rest."

Far more than she did.

Picking up their breakfast, she moved a few steps away from the bar, but halted immediately. To Leo, it would appear that a far-away sound had frozen her where she stood, head angled to the side and upward, her brows notching toward one another. The other occupant of the room, however, were he still watching, would note a very different scene.

Bernard had stopped her with touch to her elbow. He leaned down, down, down the many inches that separated them to murmur something in her ear. What he said set her teeth to clenching.

"I hear you," she responded just as quietly, her tone guarded but hard.

Trust built friendship. It shored it up at its weakest points and brooked no doubt, its truth utter and complete. Kara didn't need to glance at the baby-faced facade Al sported to compare it to what had just been relayed to her. All she needed to know came down to a short-worded warning she decoded immediately.

"Be careful of the boy, Kara. The line forms on the right, dear."

 

[MysteriousStranger]

The huff of air that was forced out of Leo’s throat might have been a chuckle, had it not been for the truth within her assessment of Jaxon’s stubbornness. Still, the bartender felt the tension in his shoulders and neck begin to lessen, and the uneasy taint that had gripped his mind loosen. Moving his gaze to examine the discarded choker that cluttered his counter, fighting the knee-jerk urge to twitch his lips downward, he nodded in acknowledgement and acceptance. He wouldn’t interfere with their rest; from the stiffness in her movements, he judged she needed it too.

He picked his fork up, placed it between his fingers, and watched Kara depart out of the corner of his eye. Taking a bite of his omelet, he ruled that having her around was a good thing. It would be more convenient to shove blame onto her, but she had gone to Jaxon’s aid without hesitation. And if what she said was true, and he had no reason to doubt her, there was no help he could offer the SEAL already haunted by ghosts of another nature. It felt as if he were a parent admitting that he couldn’t shield his child from the world, but it was undeniably true.

While it would take time--he wondered if he actually ever could--to get used to the fact she seemingly, due to his mere mortal sight, had discussions with herself, he admitted that the possibility of having someone else to share in his charge was rather…relieving. The stress off his own shoulders was certainly welcomed, but he felt that way mostly for Jaxon’s sake rather than his own. Besides, if he knocked people for their oddities, he’d be the owner of an empty bar.

Waiting a few heartbeats after her stop, in an attempt to not interrupt whatever she was doing, he cleared his throat, and then spoke in a soft voice that still carried across the distance between them, “Kara? Thank you. For helping him.” With what he needed to say having been said, he went back to his meal.

In the back of the bar, the specter that called these walls his domain was watching. It was subtle, with the way his fedora shadowed his faded eyes, yet his lips were visible, and they turned downward just so. The pointer finger on his right hand circled the table top, before lifting and flicking, as if to spin a phantom coin.

 

[CastoffCaptain]

Dark eyes gleamed like jet, twin jewels aimed at Leo over Kara's shoulder. They revealed nothing in the aftermath of the barman's gratitude, but it seemed he was less interested in her reaction than he was his eggs. She wouldn't have answered, anyway. The sentiment and sincerity behind his words filled any spaces in the conversation, both of them now aware of the responsibility they shared. Caring for Jaxon was no burden, no matter the weight, but talking about it over breakfast wasn't going to happen. Still, Leo raised questions she'd only find answers to with patience and observation, all coming down to the dynamics between him, Jaxon, and the dead man who'd been J's brother.

Observation was also needed for the other occupant of the bar, but in a considerably sharpened manner. Kara lingered for a heartbeat on the threshold, not bothering to hide the stare she leveled at Alessandro. Pale in the bar's glow, she could have been a ghost herself, were it not for the slow rise and fall of her chest. Nothing revealed, nothing given, her attention could have been mistaken for curiosity, but she was gone in the next moment, trying hard not to curse during her painful trek upstairs.

"Hey, black 'n' blue," Kara skirted the foot of the bed and stood at Jaxon's side, waiting for him to sit up enough to hand him his food. You. It didn't occur to her to say us. God knew there was enough omelet to feed them both, but seeing him lying there, awash in the grief he so solidly refused to feel, she couldn't even let their late morning meal be about her. "I got some hen fruit for you."

The need to protect and shield him hurt far more than her aching joints and purpling skin. She assumed the newness of their bond intensified it, transforming what might in later months become a sweet and constant thrum at the back of her consciousness to an all-consuming roar. Battling against the urge to lock his apartment door and clamber under the covers with him, Kara sat on the very edge of the mattress, her head swimming.

This.

This was what it was like.

"I spoke to Leo, by the way. He knows the bare minimum of what he needs to know to stay sane, but none of the details, just like we talked about."

Bernard stopped just short of entering the bedroom, his hands clasped before him and hidden in his sleeves. His lips tipped up in a smile tinged by melancholy. Waiting with an air of expectancy, it was clear he wanted to speak, but he hung back, silent, still, and as unobtrusive as a six-foot-four dead man could be.

 

[MysteriousStranger]

Jaxon was neither asleep nor fully awake, drifting in a sea of semi-consciousness, and taking the time of silence to recharge his depleted energy. The sound of approaching footsteps stirred him from the quasi-state, though he refrained from moving immediately. His head, however, tilted, jaw slanting, to take better notice of the unevenness in the pattern of her walk. She was favoring one side over the other, hindered by injuries she shouldn't have. Teeth grinding together, his eyes grudgingly opened, and he began to see all the things he was trying so hard not to.

It would be simpler if he could hate him, disown him, clean his hands of the marine in the same way he had been forsaken so many years ago. Then he could move on, instead of being burdened by this sickening feeling of betrayal--guilt--that was clawing at the edge of his mind. Part of him did, a large portion. Hated him for the years of resentment, hated him for hurting Kara, hated him for coming back from the grave only to have hands be forced to send him back. Yet he still loved him, because he was his brother, and the last tie to blood he had to call upon. And a deeper part of himself, almost too quiet and buried for its existence to be known, understood how hard it was to overcome the sins of their father.

Ayden Asher was a scarecrow. Perhaps Jaxon had been as well.

Blinking, he watched Kara enter the room, and with a grunt of effort, lifted himself until he was upright, his muscles already complaining from the movement, like needle pricks scattered across his body, only the needles were full-fledged knives. Taking the offered plate, he gave another grunt in thanks, and forced his lips upward in a small smile. "Said the raven to the crow."

What else she brought him in the form of news took a weight off his mind, even if he couldn't discern how he felt about omitting things from Leo. But it was better if the Viking didn't know specifics; it would let him view Ayden as nothing less than a friend. Some perceptions were better left undisturbed. Ignorance was bliss, and in this case, it caused no harm.

He was grateful she was here. The realization made his smile genuine, even if it was tainted with sorrow.

The thought had crossed his mind, the series of 'if only': If only he could go back in time, if only he had been capable of patching-up their relationship, if only he had never come home. A parade of useless hypotheticals; there was only the now, and he resented the precious moments he had inadvertently, inevitably wasted upon them. But he wouldn't change a damn thing even if he could, out of fear that he'd nudge Kara's path from his own, preventing their crossing.

Lowering his chin in a small nod, he carefully stretched out a few fingers to run along the length of her arm, stopping at the nasty scrapping of skin upon her hand. "After we eat, I'll clean that for you. Wrap it." His eyes shifted to his main concern, the knot on her head, but he could keep a subtle watch on her functionality in the coming hours.

Picking up a piece of toast, he shoved the slab of bread into his maw without ceremony. Not bothering to wait until he swallowed before speaking, he invited the looming monk, spotted out of his peripheral vision, in, "I promise I'm decent under the sheets. It's safe to enter."

 

[CastoffCaptain]

on a cobweb afternoon
in a room full of emptiness
​

Said the joker to the thief, Kara's mind countered, a propos to the crow remark, although it made no sense. She was beginning to tire, the adrenaline long gone, her hunger making her weak. Sneaking a pinch of omelet, she popped it in her mouth and chewed.

There were times when focus was narrowed to an inch or two. The stretch of skin between thumb and forefinger, the expanse of lip from smile to frown. Kara watched Maverick closely, so much so that she wondered if the last hour hadn't hadn't had more impact on her consciousness than she'd counted on. Still, there were worse things to get lost in.

In return for his offer to wrap her hand, she smirked just a bit, angling her gaze at the nearest window just to keep her thoughts from being immediately interpreted. Jaxon's invite, muffled as it was by bread, kept her from speaking her mind.

in your house
i long to be
patiently
​

Bernard slid in, making no effort to solidify below his shins. The energy he'd expended to terrify Miguel had peeled away his layers and his effort against Ayden had thinned the rest, making his visibility shady at most now that he’d returned to conserving energy, rather than soaking it up from the nearest electrical sources. Kara ached not only for the injuries Jaxon had sustained, but what Bernard had given up to keep those wounds from growing worse. She sighed. She hadn't meant to, but it snuck out, revealing a little more than she'd intended.

But the monk didn't let her wallow in pity for too long. He spoke, and she choked on a guffaw, holding it in with the back of her hand.

"I've heard enough to know exactly how you are under the sheets," said the holy man, a brow arched. He halted at the foot at the bed, his forehead wrinkled, his form wavering in the light filtering through the room.

on my deathbed
i will pray to the gods and the angels
like a pagan
to anyone who will take me to heaven​

Kara watched him while he continued to speak, growing noticeably paler before the crests of her cheeks flushed with color. Clearing her throat, she reached for Jaxon's nearest hand and squeezed it, only then realizing how worried she'd been about the monk's opinion of her newest lover.

Because it had never, ever, done anything less but fall short of approval.

"He says 'thank you'," she translated, "for protecting me. He knows what it cost you. And…" hesitating again, she then said, “he thinks you fought like a madman. Which apparently is a good thing.”

until the day was gone
and i sat in regret
of all the things i've done
for all that i've blessed
and all that i've wonged​

 

[MysteriousStranger]

The day had shaken them all. With his head tilting just a touch in Kara's direction, noting the sigh that escaped her lips, and his green eyes gliding from the sight of Bernard's dwindled form to the pale skin of her face, Jaxon realized that, more deeply than he'd been able to understand hours before. He didn't know what to say, and his search for words was quickly interrupted; his attention was stolen both by the monk's speech and the spreading crimson color across Kara's cheeks.

His gaze should've shifted to the man who was addressing him, but instead stayed fixated upon the face of the woman he'd become so close to. His brow lifted in a question he doubted would be answered, and he resigned himself to the fact that whatever had caused her flush would be purposely lost in translation.

Gently giving her hand a squeeze back, Jaxon held his plate in his other as he shuffled positions, scooting to the edge of the mattress so he could be next to her, and planted his feet firmly on the ground. Settled, he looked toward Bernard, considering the holy man's words.

What it had cost him.

"Hm." The noise was made by his throat. Taking another bite of breakfast, he waited to chew before replying.

Another name for the memorial bled into his back.

His lips tugged downward, jaw clenching. His green irises drifted down to the hardened fingers he had laced through Kara's.

The bruises underneath her shirt were a testament to how well he had protected her. He couldn't help but feel responsible for her injuries, chiding himself for not being able to keep her out of danger in the first place. It was useless, the whirlwind of regrets within his head, the mapping out of what he should've done to better guard her, but they invaded his thoughts anyway. He couldn't change any of it. But he could strive to do better.

Clearing his throat, he lifted Kara's hand, kissing her fingers softly, before turning his iron-forged, burning eyes upon the specter. "There'll be hell to pay for anyone--anything--that hurts her. Whoever's suicidal enough to try better hope to God, the Devil, whatever force compels them, that they can put me in the ground first. Because I'll fucking kill them." His gaze was unwavering, and within it was not only the truth of his declaration, but an acknowledgement, from one warrior to another, of the charge both of the men shared.

The thanks was unnecessary; therefore, he didn't acknowledge it. His purpose, no matter how new, simply was. Taking gratitude for fulfilling it just wasn't...right. He couldn't explain it, didn't know how. Like when a soldier once thanked him for dragging his ass out of an ambush; he acted, and that was it: that's what he did. But this went deeper. The bond between him and Kara awakened an instinct to watch and protect and defend, one that could make him berserk should he need it, pushing back pain, fear, and willing himself forward.

It was undeniably a bit frightening, knowing the power over his very being he had placed into another's hands. But he trusted her.

With a small grunt, he leaned over to rest his head against her shoulder, mumbling softly, "You do drive me crazy."