[roger]

[more_flexible]

He promised. He'd prepared. He'd gotten what they needed and read books and watched the reels, but nothing really got him ready for this. House was an asshole in ways Jack had never really seen. He was so sick, hot and cold, and he changed so quickly, from weak to completely fucking cruel. Talking to him like it was his fault.

Jack left him in the clinic and went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Again. Anything to kill some time. Anything to keep him busy so he didn't go through with the threat of just knocking House out and carrying him home.

Comments

[one--song.livejournal.com]

In his sexy new jacket, Roger was ready to take on the world... or at least bad pop-punk. The sleeve declared 'Rock God' in silver thread up one sleeve, the inside was lined with the nicest red fabric (silk or satin or something) and with the skintight plaid pants, he lived up to that title. The scarf made it less convincing, and the fingerless black gloves made up for it all over again. He was an inherent contradiction. A walking paradox.

He was fucking cold.

Having waited until he was inside the Compound to shake the flecks of ice from his hair, he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck. His room was a hop, skip and rockstar swagger away, so he often took his time getting there, but not that day. He was so fucking cold from his expedition to the shore that he just wanted to crawl in bed and not move for a very, very long time.

He wasn't really paying attention at all, so he didn't see who he pushed by in an effort to get to his room.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"Watch where the fuck you're going, Roger," Jack snapped, stalking off three whole steps before he stopped, turned, and looked back. He was clean and shaven, but he looked tired. Not just sleepy, but like he'd been up and going for days. Like there wasn't much left to run on. He had no sense of humor, and very little use for decorum.

Just enough to manage to say, "I'm sorry. That wasn't about you."

[one--song.livejournal.com]

Startled (and possibly ready for a fight), Roger turned to see who was getting their panties in a twist, and was surprised to see Jack. Jack with his awesome hair and infinite patience was snapping and... looking somewhat less attractive. Somewhat. He was still bedable.

"What the fuck, Harkness?" But it was on the tails of Jack's exhausted apology, and Roger felt for him immediately.

"Don't worry about it, man," Roger assured him. And then he just stood there. He was there. For Jack. He just couldn't say it.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

He shook his head and looked down the hallway toward the clock. Minutes...just minutes. House wouldn't have gone yet.

"I'm just...nevermind," he said quietly. "Dismissed. Given leave. Whatever...I hope he falls on his ass," Jack added bitterly, then pushed off and continued down the hall. He could easily find something to do. Months ago...it could have been Roger.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

Roger knew the look well, and the walk. And the bitterness. Also, he knew House. And his conversation with Trance was tickling his memory somewhere far back, but it wasn't at the surface.

"How long has he been withdrawing?" Roger asked Jack's retreating form.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

He stopped midstride. As much as he would have loved to not have felt that question like a fist in the gut, it nearly doubled him over. Of course Roger would know.

"Christmas day," he said without turning back around.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

A wince brought Roger's body back a step or two. Withdrawal was one thing, holidays were another. Hell, Christmas had been the end of Roger's rehab stint. It wasn't fair. Not to Mark and not to Jack.

"Come on," Roger said. He looked over his shoulder (he'd been unnecessarily loud for dramatic effect) and then held the curtain to his room open for Jack.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

Everything was fresh and raw and bright, and as fast as he'd snapped at Roger, as quickly as he'd apologized in turn, it was...

House had asked him not to think of it as a battle, but it was exactly the same. He'd been running on adrenaline and facing down a faceless monster for days. It had been days, and this was his first time away from the front lines.

Which meant following the first friendly face seemed like a fantastic idea. Jack ducked through the open curtain and looked around, forcing himself to stay strong. Stay up. Forcing himself to keep going.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

There was really no telling where the fuck Hunter went, which meant Roger had no way of discerning when he'd be back, but this wasn't a red-shirt-on-the-door situation. God no. If anything, the only thing Hunter would stand to do, undoubtedly, would be to break the tension. The bystander was every bit as deserving of sympathy. Some would argue perhaps even moreso. Roger wasn't one of those people.

"Have a seat," Roger said, waving vaguely at either of the beds. He hated the tiny space. At least his shitty flat was huge, even though it was literally nothing else.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

He sat automatically, his mind a million miles away. If he'd left House and it had just been minutes, but there was plenty of time to do...whatever. To sit. To try to get that tone of voice out of his ears. To try to get himself together.

"Thanks. I just...he made me leave."

[one--song.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I figured," Roger murmured. He finished shoving all the excess crap around Jack into his guitar case (his bed was a stockpile for papers and picks) and took a seat on Hunter's bed. Just in case Jack wanted his space.

And then, he did something rare: he shut up, prepared to listen.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

It took some time. Fuck, it was always time...took some time for him to make any sense of what he'd seen, what he'd heard, how House had been. Finally, quietly, the words started to come.

"I thought I knew. I thought I was ready for this. We both knew it was coming. But he's so...I didn't think...it's really hard not being able to do anything."

[one--song.livejournal.com]

"It's not like that prepares you for it," Roger concurred, hands clasped between his knees as he leaned forward. Poor Jack. Military training at the whatever-the-fuck academy doesn't prepare you for watching someone you love torture themselves to the point of soullessness.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

Just a slow shake of his head and Jack curled over until he had to hold his head in his hands. "I don't know if I can keep this up for another two weeks."

That was House had said as a timeline, on the outside. Two weeks...three days and he was coming apart.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

There was no correct way to act in Jack's position, that was a basic truth, as was that there was nothing Roger could say that would be either helpful or follow protocol. There was none. Everyone in the situation and involved with it was flying by the eat of their pants.

"Well. Maybe he wants to be left alone," Roger offered. He remembered that was all he wanted, as well. To be left alone. And no one would grant him that. "Could be easier for both of you."

And maybe Roger liked Jack's company. Maybe.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"He's done it alone twice before," Jack answered quickly. "And this time...it's worse. It doesn't matter if he wants to be alone. He needs someone there. It's so hard to watch, though," he told the floor. "And it's not like he's always sunshine and puppies, but he's never been this cruel before."

[one--song.livejournal.com]

"It's not him," Roger assured Jack. He knew that Jack most likely knew that, but he had seen the way Mark had looked at him on the rare occasions Roger's drug counselor had allowed visits from people. Most of the memories seemed to be behind some sort of really cruel, far away filter, but they were there, and Mark had responded to every involuntary twitch, every raspy barb.

"Jack." Roger dipped his neck to catch the other man's gaze. "It's not him. House has never been alone in a detox. Chase has been there. And... versions of Wilson. You're the one that's alone, right now."

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"I'm fine," he replied, the autopilot answer coming so easily to his tired mouth. Tired everything. There was barely enough to manage a thin smile as he raised his eyes. "And I'm not alone. You're here."

[one--song.livejournal.com]

It was weird to Roger that he was an authority on something. It was made somehow less weird by the fact that it was drug-related. His mother would be so proud.

At that, Roger worked to a stand, took the two steps to the other bed, and sat down next to Jack, fairly close.

"I don't know how reliable a support system I am," he admitted.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

Close. Close and not sweating and not shaking and not telling him to get the fuck away. Jack was pulled in by his gravity and rested his head on his shoulder.

"It doesn't matter," he said slowly. "I just didn't think it would be this tough. I got through the Battle at Cannes easier than this. He was right when he said it wasn't like war." Jack took a deep breath, then let it out. "War's easier."

[one--song.livejournal.com]

For some reason, the touch startled Roger a bit. He spent a few moments casting unsure glances, and before he knew it, his arm was around Jack's shoulders. Roger never thought he'd see the day that he would be comforting Jack.

"I guess I could see that," Roger said with a snort. "I mean, war's all... y'know... tactics, right? There's no... blueprint for how someone in withdrawal is gonna be feeling minute to minute. Or acting. And isn't there some saying about how facing one man is harder than facing an army?" He took a deep breath and squeezed Jack a little closer.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"All that," he nodded. Part of him thought he shouldn't be here, wasting time. House would need...

The hell with what House needed. He pushed Jack away, and right now he needed this. To just...sit. No demands. Nothing harsh. Everything just easy. Five fucking minutes of easy, that's all he needed.

"Of course, withdrawl doesn't give you headlice."

Of all the things to think of. There were some things about being a soldier he'd never really liked. None of those things included killing, though.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

As if Roger wasn't already firmly planted in a handbasket hellbound, his lips quirked up at that.

"Depends where you're withdrawing at," Roger said wryly. "The place I went? It's a wonder I still have hair."

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"And it's such nice hair," Jack sighed. He couldn't hardly keep his eyes open and his head grew heavier on Roger's shoulder.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

"Thanks," Roger said. He could feel Jack's tired body pushing toward sleep, the fight and the temptation to succumb, so Roger stood and began to gather the blankets down. "Here. Just... you can rest here."

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

One more deep breath and he nodded. Roger's offer was the best idea he'd heard in a long time.

"Just for a minute. I don't really want him to fall on his ass," he said, shifting to lay down. Just a little rest. He could keep going if he could just get a little rest.

[one--song.livejournal.com]

Another pillow found its way to the bed and Roger placed it on top of the other one, then let Jack lay down.

"Do... Do you need... anything?" God, he felt like he was doing something wrong.

[captainjack.livejournal.com]

"Quit telling me to leave," Jack muttered, easing deeper into the pillow and stretching out a little. Once he'd said it out loud, he realized that Roger was not House. "I mean, no. No, I'm good. Thanks, Roger."

[one--song.livejournal.com]

For once, Roger was glad that his default answer had become silence.

"Anytime. I'll just... I'll see you later." What the hell else was he supposed to do? Jack was using his bed and Roger could probably find something else to do than sit in and pity himself.