Chapter Text
Lottie wakes to the stillness of the attic. For once, she hasn’t dreamed of anything, hasn't seen anything she wasn't supposed to behind her eyes; doesn’t hallucinate someone else in the attic with her.
Instead, she’s here, on the floor, still wrapped up in Jackie, her head on her chest. Jackie’s breathing is a steady rhythm that fills Lottie’s head, it calms her. It lets her know that this is real. This is all real.
She doesn’t move at first. She wants to stay here. She knows she needs to go downstairs, though. She needs to let them all know that she's okay, that their sacrifice wasn't for nothing.
But she stays laying with Jackie.
She shifts just enough to see Jackie’s face, the way her hair is a mess around her, bangs askew. The way her lips are barely parted as soft breath passes through them. Lottie thinks of that night that seems so long ago. She still remembers how sweet Jackie’s lips were, how gentle. She thinks it’s a bad idea to think about that, though, so she puts her head back on Jackie’s shoulder and lets out a sigh as she feels the ache returning to her body, now that her mind was fully aware.
It’s the light coming in through the window that wakes Jackie. It’s still that pale, cloud-covered blankness, but it’s bright enough that she groans, a small coughing fit rattling her body as she curls away from Lottie for only a moment before facing her again, pressing back into her. “Five more minutes,” she mutters, pulling the blankets back up.
Lottie can’t help but laugh, and then groan because she has broken ribs and it fucking hurts to breathe, let alone laugh. Still, she’s smiling and it doesn’t feel real, she doesn’t feel like she should smile, but she does and it’s nice. “You’re sick,” Lottie says back, “you can stay in bed as long as you want.” And, well, maybe it wouldn’t be too much to have the day to themselves to recover. Both of them.
She thinks that sounds nice, actually.
Lottie’s body still aches and she still feels a pit of sorrow in her stomach for the boy who has saved them, but she can’t help but feel hopeful when there’s someone who knows her truth and is still there, wrapped up tightly in her arms.
It feels like what Laura Lee wanted for her.
“Sounds like a dream,” Jackie sighs, sinking back into Lottie’s arms. And they’ve somehow managed to wake up before Misty Quigley, which means that they really might get five uninterrupted minutes to lay back down. Jackie is sick, and Lottie is injured, so it really is possible that they might get to stay in.
In truth, Jackie can’t see the rest of the girls doing much of anything today, either. The hunt, the aftermath, it had taken something out of all of them. It still sounds quiet downstairs, like no one wants to disturb whatever silence has descended on them. Jackie hopes they’re okay. She also doesn’t want to go down there and find out that they’re somehow not .
“It’s real,” Lottie says and it’s maybe a little to keep convincing herself that it is. It is. It has to be. She wants it to be. She needs it to be. It’s not a dream. The silence in her head is real. Jackie laying in her arms is real. The somber silence that is choking the cabin is real. They are all real.
Jackie leans up, then, looking Lottie in the eyes. “It’s real,” she says, her voice soft and serious. And she knows, now, how important it is for Lottie to know that. If she can’t trust her own mind, then Jackie will try to help her, wherever she can. Even if her own imagines dead best friends lurking in corners, writing in journals, whispering in her ear. “I told you, before, that I’d tell you the truth. It’s real.”
Lottie nods. She believes her, she can trust Jackie. So much more than her own mind. She knows it’s not her mind tricking her. She thinks maybe this can be a good thing that she can let herself have, something she can let herself not feel guilty over. Someone she can let in close. She’s never done that before. Lottie bites her lip.
She can’t look Jackie in the eye as she says, “I was six. When they first…took me to a doctor.” She remembers their hushed voices while she sat on the stairs. Lottie is sick and we’re taking her to a psychiatrist . “I didn’t understand.”
She’d watched their faces, her parents, as they talked to the psychiatrist, as they explained what was going on with their daughter. They’d both looked so strange to Lottie. Her dad looked angry, her mom looked haunted. She’d only been six. She’d been afraid because she didn’t understand.
“They told me I was sick.” Gave her pills that made her feel as if the world around her were being pushed through thick molasses. She’d kept falling asleep in class, getting sent to the principal’s office, yelled at by teachers, by her dad.
“I think I’ve always been this way.”
Jackie feels her mouth turn downwards into a deep frown. “You were six?” she asks quietly. That’s so young. That’s just a baby. They told a six year old that she was sick? What about children just imagining things, like friends or castles or monsters under the bed? What is it about a six year old that makes you think she’s sick to the point of needing to be fixed ? “I don’t see you any different, Lott. You’re still you. This doesn’t change anything.” It might have, back there, but nothing’s the same here. The same stuff doesn’t matter. Lottie being sick doesn’t change that she’s Lottie, and she’s apparently been suffering out here alone the entire time. The last thing Lottie needs is for Jackie to pull away. Truthfully, that’s the last thing Jackie needs, too.
Lottie simply nods. She remembers being in the back of the car, playing with her pony. She remembers the dread that had begun to build inside of her. She remembers the scream that had torn through her, her parents yelling back at her. The final straw. Christ, Lottie, stop it!
“I think I’m…a different person,” she admits softly, shamefully, “when I’m…” when she’s medicated. She can barely remember who that girl is now. Whoever she was, she died a long time ago. She disappeared with the first missed dose. “I just want you to-- you should know what-- what you’re getting into.” What dealing with Lottie really means.
Looking at Lottie, all Jackie does is shake her head and hold Lottie closer. “I think you’re wrong. You’re Lottie, and you’re my friend, and that hasn’t changed. That doesn’t just change. I’ve watched you body a girl on the pitch who was somehow taller than you, and I’ve seen you pray to the wind, and I’ve watched you care so goddamn much about the people around you that you break into pieces. You’re the same person you’ve always been.” She presses her lips to the side of Lottie’s head. “That’s what I’m getting into.”
Lottie doesn’t think that’s quite true. She feels so different. So unlike herself and yet so much like herself, her true self. The self that this place was forging her into. “I’m not easy,” she tries to say. None of this is easy, Lottie. You…your sickness . “To deal with.” It can get really fucking hard sometimes, actually. Especially out here. She’d been trying so hard to keep herself together, but she lost more of herself every day they asked for it. She gave it to them willingly.
“Are you trying to scare me away at the asscrack of dawn, Matthews?” Jackie asks, pressing her face into Lottie’s hair. “Try again in a few hours.” Jackie knows that Lottie’s being serious. She does. Which is why she adds, “I don’t care if you’re not easy. I’m not going anywhere. It’s too late.” It’s far too late for that. Jackie can’t function out there without Lottie, not anymore. She needs her like water or air or food. Lottie’s made herself essential for Jackie’s survival.
Lottie shakes her head. “No, I--” She feels warm when Jackie presses in. “I just…I wanted you to know.” She simply just wanted Jackie to know, to know all of her. Not just the parts that Lottie carefully crafted and let people see. She thinks that maybe she likes being seen by someone again. “You’re the first person I’ve told.” She thought maybe Laura Lee counted, but she’d never told her like this, about this. About the way Lottie’s mind sometimes took her hostage and turned her into someone or something else.
Jackie feels like something in her chest twitches and aches for Lottie Matthews. “Thank you for telling me,” she murmurs. She likes that Lottie trusted her enough to tell her, likes that Lottie actually uses her words, when she can. She answers Jackie’s questions. She’s gotten better about not just saying that she’s fine and forcing Jackie to decipher that. So, when Jackie asks, “How can I help you? How do I know when you need help?” she thinks that Lottie will actually give her a straight answer, rather than leave her floundering.
Lottie doesn’t think Jackie should thank her for that, it was only fair. That way, when things really did get hard, it wasn’t out of nowhere. And still, Lottie wouldn’t blame her if she did decide to walk away then, once she’s seen how bad it can really get. “Things get--” she furrows her brow, trying to think of the right word-- “cloudy. My mom said I would get this-- this look.” She thinks Jackie might know the one.
Lottie closes her eyes a moment. “What do you hear?” she murmurs. “What do you feel? Smell? See? Taste?” She opens her eyes again. “My shrink said to think of these things. To try and…ground myself in reality.” It was always hard, though. How could she trust her senses when those were the things turning on her? She sets her hand on Jackie’s chest, over her heart. “And the breathing.” The breathing exercises she’d done for both Travis and Jackie. “In for three,” she draws in a breath, “out for five,” and lets it go.
“Grounding, okay,” Jackie says, letting her eyes close as she breathes in time with Lottie’s count. Again and again. Jackie used to do grounding so well. She used to do captain so well. She was commanding, attention grabbing. She can try to do grounding again. She’s gotten so close out here before, gotten so close back to that place where she says something and people listen and believe her. It seems so far away now. She doesn’t even know if she wants it. What’s the point of it? She can’t lead them through this, not anymore. She can’t lead them out of the fucking wilderness. “How else can I help you?”
Lottie didn’t really know. All the methods her shrink had taught her were to help herself. She’d never asked about how other people could help her. She shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I like that-- you answer me, when I ask if it’s real.” It feels nice to know, to hear. She thinks she can trust Jackie a lot more than herself, than her own mind.
“I can do that,” Jackie says, offering Lottie a smile. “Easy-peasy.” It doesn’t seem like enough. Jackie wants to help Lottie. She’s not a doctor, though, and she can’t give Lottie medication, and she can’t help her trust her mind. But she wants to try. She’ll do anything to keep Lottie, now that she has her, and they both promised.
Lottie snorts then groans again. Her ribs hurt a lot. What she wouldn’t give for some fucking ibuprofen. “You’re so cheesy,” she mumbles, staying tucked against Jackie’s side. The other girl is so much smaller than her, but she feels like she fits. Lottie has never felt like she’s fit with anyone like that before. There were close matches, she supposes, like Natalie, with her jagged edges and carefree personality, or Van, with her charm and humor.
But never quite like this.
“I wish I could give you more,” Lottie speaks up after a moment, “I never asked about it, though.” About how other people could help her. Not even her parents had asked. “How someone else can help.”
“You can say I’m funny and that you think I’m cool,” Jackie teases. “It’s fine, I promise. I won’t tell anyone.” She sobers, though. “I don’t care. I can maybe figure it out from there.” She just wants to be able to help Lottie if she needs to. She wonders if she’ll need to. “How… are you feeling physically? You sound better, when you’re not making that dying noise, but I think that’s just a laugh, right?”
“I think you’re much more than just cool,” Lottie admits. She thinks that maybe up here in the attic she can say things she wouldn’t normally, and that the space will keep their secrets.
“Tired,” she answers, “bruised.” She’s more concerned that Jackie is still sick, though. Lottie knows she will heal. She leans up as much as she can to look down at Jackie, her swollen eye making it hard for her to concentrate on much else anyway. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m past the point of being bought by flattery,” Jackie teases, though her cheeks feel hot, and she glances up at the ceiling, smiling, before she looks back at Lottie. “You’re more than just bruised, Lottie. She broke fucking bones.” Misty hurt Lottie, ravaged her, ripped her apart on the inside. And of course Lottie would try to turn that focus away from herself. Jackie turns her head to the right, protecting the side of her head that doesn’t feel right . “I’m getting better,” she starts. “I think I’ve just made it worse going outside a few times. The lack of food or whatever probably isn’t that great, either.”
“Not flattery,” Lottie says, “just the truth.” She has a few ways that she would describe Jackie, but she doesn’t say them. She’s quiet.
She knows how badly Misty hurt her, she does. She thinks she’d let her do it again if she had to. She doesn’t tell Jackie that.
Lottie reaches up to press the neeck of her hand to Jackie’s forehead, like she always does. She’s not as hot anymore, always a good sign. And her breathing was steady. “Probably not,” she agrees.
Still, it’s hard to feel happy that someone died for it, and it’s even harder to be happy, knowing they’re all alive because of it.
Jackie leans into the touch. “See? I’m better. I’m more worried about you.” She should get some water and a cloth and clean some of Lottie’s wounds again, check on how they looked. Her face was still swollen, though it wasn’t as bad. It didn’t look like breathing hurt quite as much. It was only small things, but the food was helping. Hopefully, it was helping all of them, even if something unforgivable had occurred inside them for eating a kid.
“I--” Lottie starts, but immediately stops. It’s such second hand nature, even still with Jackie, to brush off people’s concerns for her. She even almost wanted to tell her to not worry about her. “Am healing.” It’s the only thing that’s really true right now. It all still hurts so much, even as she lays here on Jackie. “I’d kill for some Advil.”
“I think I’d do anything to get some for you,” Jackie murmurs, swallowing. She’d wanted painkillers for Lottie when she’d had to get some of her toes cut off. That had been painful, Jackie’s sure that was painful, but this is being beaten within an inch of her life. Jackie didn’t really know how she was awake now.
“How sweet,” Lottie mumbles, and she's getting tired again already but she doesn't want to sleep. She likes being awake for this, to hold Jackie, to rest her head on her chest, feel the rise and fall of her breath. “You-- you won't tell anyone, right?” She asks after a long moment, and she can't help the fear that leaks into her voice. “About me?”
Jackie thinks about how she’d spilled Shauna’s secret in front of the entire group when Laura Lee decided to get in the plane. Part of it had been vindictive; outing Shauna in front of all of them felt good, and she knew it pissed Shauna off to have Misty’s undivided attention on her. But she’d also done it because Shauna needed help. Desperately. If it came down to getting Lottie help or keeping her secret, would Jackie tell anyone? She’s not sure. Still. “I won’t. I promise. That’s your secret.”
Lottie feels relieved, and she feels a little guilty about feeling relieved. But she doesn't want them all to know, it scares her, the thought of them turning on her. Of the anger or resent they might have, knowing that she was sick. That she was wrong.
“Thank you.” But it's nice to have one person who knows, one person who stays, one person who cares. Someone who knows her dirty secret but still wants to stay regardless.
It was terrifying to be known. To be seen.
Lottie turns her head just enough to press a gentle kiss to Jackie's shoulder. “Thank you,” she says again.
Jackie doesn’t think this is something Lottie should thank her for. Keeping a friend's secret honestly just feels like the bare minimum, one that even she should be able to handle, even if she sort of fucked it up last time. This time, though, Jackie offers up a trade, something that Lottie could use in defense if she needed it. “I keep Shauna’s pinky bones in my pocket,” she mumbles. “It broke off, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so it’s just kind of been there, and now she’s fucking haunting me, I think, but it’s totally not her because she’s too nice sometimes and hasn’t once mentioned me killing her, so there’s that, too, and I wasn’t kidding about none of us really being well out here, Lott, because I know I’m not fucking well.”
Lottie listens and wonders why Jackie tells her all of this. She's grateful, she thinks, that Jackie seems to trust her, too, but all of those things-- Lottie had already known them, hadn't she? She'd felt the lump in Jackie's pocket but hadn't looked. She'd seen the missing finger but hadn't mentioned it. She'd watch the shadow loom over Jackie, and sometimes she would see Shauna's face, too. “I think you're just trying to cope,” she says, “the best way you know how out here.”
She pauses, then adds, “I think it's sweet, that you keep a part of her.” Lottie sometimes wishes she had a part of Laura Lee to hold with her, not just clothes that still smelled like her, or the Bible that Lottie still sometimes read in her voice.
“It’s kind of gross, actually,” Jackie sighs, but she settles against Lottie even more, something making her sag into the other girl even as Jackie is the one to hold her. She feels too peaceful, like this moment is just a dream. But she’s already told Lottie that it’s real. Jackie doesn’t think she can handle the idea of it not being real. She needs this too much. The thought of it somehow being gone is too much to bear. Her hand moves to her pocket, feeling the little bones there. “I’ve thought about putting them on a necklace or something,” she mumbles. “I… gave Nat the other one. I’m sorry. It just felt like she needed it yesterday.”
Lottie doesn't say anything about that, she thinks she's said enough weird shit for today. She doesn't think Jackie would want to hear about how decay and life go hand in hand. “There's some jewelry in the suitcases, I think,” she says. She lifts a hand and it trembles from the effort and the pain, but she manages to let her fingers trace the dip between Jackie's collarbones. “It's okay. It saved her.” Lottie truly believes that. And, well, It . But she doesn't think Jackie wants to hear about that, either.
“Did it?” Jackie murmurs, though her eyes slip shut at the feeling of Lottie’s fingers on her skin. Maybe she likes that too much. “Or did she… Did she get lucky?” Jackie looks at Lottie, her eyes soft but worried. She thinks that Javi falling through the ice was a horrible, lucky accident. Otherwise, they would have kept hunting Nat. Otherwise, they would have had to eat their friend. Eating Shauna was horrible. That’s not something that Jackie can ever do again. She can only stomach eating Javi if she tries desperately not to think about his face. But Nat… they need Nat out here. They need her.
Lottie doesn't answer, she thinks they both probably know what she'll say. She meets Jackie's gaze, though. She swallows and tries not to look at Jackie's lips. She sets her hand over Jackie's heart again. She's searching for the right words to say when she hears footsteps heading up the ladder.
It's Misty, with two bowls of food. Two bowls of pieces of a young boy. They're already using it sparingly. No one wants to do that again so soon.
“Oh, good,” Misty says, coming over and sitting by Lottie, “you're awake already. Here--” she sets both bowls down-- “breakfast.”
Jackie feels words on the tip of her tongue, but she doesn’t even know what she’s about to say as Misty comes into the attic and Jackie turns her head to watch her. She looks at the food, hates that her mouth waters, that she wants it. She helps Lottie sit up a little more, giving her one of the bowls before she takes her own, eyeing Misty warily before she starts picking at the food.
“Thank you, Misty,” Lottie says for both of them, only grunting a little with pain as Jackie helps her sit up straight.
“How are you feeling today? Any changes?” Misty asks, shifting into her work mode.
Lottie shakes her head.
“Well, at least you're improving.”
Lottie nods. Misty looks between the two of them before she finally gets the hint. “I guess I'll just-- come back later, then.” She's up and moving back towards the trapdoor and Lottie deflates a little. Her ribs hurt to sit up like this but she doesn't think she wants to risk choking on the food by laying down.
When Misty is gone, Lottie shifts herself closer to Jackie. She's never been a very touchy person, but ever since she'd started following Jackie everywhere, she finds that she actually really likes the feeling of someone else, even if it's just legs brushing against each other or arms draped in laps.
She takes a small bite and pretends it's just more bear meat. That doesn't make it any easier to swallow.
“You have to let her look you over again later,” Jackie murmurs, trying to chew and swallow without tasting. The fear that Misty might lash out again if she doesn’t get her way lingers constantly in the back of her mind. It’s why Jackie can’t bear the thought of leaving Lottie alone with her. “I won’t let her hurt you again.” Because Jackie is the most threatening one of them all these days, with her sunken eyes and hollow cheeks and sweaty forehead.
“Jackie…” Lottie sighs, but she doesn't see a point in arguing, really. “I'm not worried.” She doesn't think Misty will hurt her again, not anytime soon at least. She reaches out and takes Jackie's free hand and simply holds it, letting their intertwined fingers rest between them as they eat.
“I am,” Jackie says quietly. She is. She’s worried about Lottie, even though she’s doing well, and she’s worried about the rest of the girls and the violence that’s in all of them, and she’s worried that it’s going to come out again and that Lottie’s going to put herself in the middle of it again . Because that seems to be what she does out here. She doesn’t say anything else as they eat, though, just gives Lottie’s hand a squeeze and tries to force down piece after piece until the bowl is clean.
Lottie finishes just a little after Jackie and she moves to set their bowls aside. She knows it's fair for Jackie to be worried, they all probably are, but Lottie doesn't think they need to be. She would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving any one of them, but now she's also got a promise to keep. And she does plan on keeping it.
Lottie lays back down and tugs on Jackie to do the same. She wonders if she'd even be able to sleep without Jackie anymore. It's such a stark difference to how empty her bed back in Wiskayok had felt, stretching on for eons alone. She doesn't think she'll ever be able to go back to that.
Jackie lets Lottie lay her back down, and she gives her a soft smile. Five more minutes really did seem to be stretching into all day, and she can’t bring herself to be too upset about that . She’s still so tired. Jackie thinks that, if she has just a little bit more time to rest, then she’ll be okay. Whatever’s still wrong and cold inside of her will heal, she’ll stop feeling sick, her fever will go away for good. She just needs a little more sleep, preferably in Lottie’s arms. Jackie’s always slept better with another body pressed against her own. Shauna’s had been her favorite, before, but she’d stopped caring who. She’d even taken Jeff a few times when he’d snuck in through her bedroom window, though she knew he wanted more than just sleep.
But with Lottie, it seems like she wants this, needs it, just as much as Jackie does, and she wraps her arms around Lottie gently, grasping at the faux fur of her jacket like she needs to keep her close.
Lottie nuzzles into Jackie's hair and lets out a long breath. Her body still feels so heavy and aching, but she feels even more so comforted as Jackie wraps her arms around Lottie. She's never needed someone this way, never let herself get close enough for it. But now here she was, with Jackie of all people. Sure, they'd been friends back before all of this, but Jackie had always had Shauna there. Hadn't needed anyone else.
Lottie wonders if she'd still be in her arms right now if Shauna was still alive. She thinks she knows the answer and she can't help but feel a little sad about it.
Jackie likes having someone who doesn’t push her away the second they argue, someone that she doesn’t push away the second that they argue. Then again, she and Lottie haven’t argued out here. There hasn’t been much time or space for it, not when Jackie didn’t have much strength to argue with anything for so long after Shauna’s death. Not when they’ve been too concerned about surviving. Not when Lottie’s presence was the only thing that felt grounding. The thought of arguing with Lottie doesn’t even seem real in the moment, the two of them pressed together, tangled up, each keeping the other from moving too far. Jackie can’t really complain about it, though. Not when this is really all she’s ever wanted.
Lottie wants to talk, she thinks. She wants to hear Jackie’s voice and feel it vibrate in her chest, but Lottie has never been good at talking, not really. Not after she realized sometimes she wasn't talking to anyone or anything. She didn't want people to think she was crazy.
She doesn't believe Jackie thinks she's crazy, even if, objectively, Lottie kind of is. Still. She wants to say something. “You're very comfortable,” she blurts through a mumble. Oh that was probably not the best thing to say, but it wasn't like she could take it back now. Stupid brain.
“Just what every gal wants to hear,” Jackie teases, laughing quietly. She didn’t know if Lottie was lying or just too out of it to properly notice the difference, but Jackie certainly didn’t think she was particularly comfortable. She tended to hog blankets and beds, and, when she was younger, she’d apparently moved a lot in her sleep during strange nights with strange dreams. They didn’t happen too much out here; she was too focused on not dying, at first, and then dying, and then not dying again. But if Lottie doesn’t mind… Jackie brushes her fingers through Lottie’s hair. “You’ve got a way with words, Lott.”
Lottie can feel what she assumes is a blush in her cheeks, her face growing hot. That was a little embarrassing, even if Jackie seemed to be taking it in stride. She's not usually like this around people, Lottie cultivates her words very carefully. “I try,” she murmurs back, her eyes beginning to droop when she feels fingers combing through her tangled hair. She thinks maybe she should take better care of it, better care of herself-- she hasn't really been doing that for a long time now. She thinks about how much Laura Lee had also loved combing fingers through her hair, pulling back the thick strands and braiding them, making something tame out of something wild. She misses her all the time. She thinks Laura Lee would appreciate Jackie taking care of Lottie in the same way, and Lottie tightens her grip around Jackie. She doesn't want to lose her, she doesn't think she can go through that pain again.
It’s not the first time Jackie’s thought that Lottie is cute, but it’s the first time that she doesn’t immediately force the thought away as soon as it happens. Because Jackie thinks all of her teammates are hot; she’s not fucking blind, right? And she’s seen them in locker rooms, and they’ve all been sharing a goddamn cabin for months. She knows they’re hot. She doesn’t allow herself to linger on that thought, though. It was wrong. It wasn’t allowed.
It’s true, though. Lottie’s cute, even with a busted up face and body, even starving, even when they’re all miserable. It kind of hurts a little. Jackie lets her fingers scrape against Lottie’s scalp, hoping to soothe her. “You succeed,” she murmurs. “Rest, Lottie, okay? Just for a little bit. We’re not going anywhere.”
How can Lottie refuse that, really? The soft urging to rest, to sleep. The gentle feeling of nails against her skin. It didn’t matter if she wanted to stay awake, it would be impossible, she thinks, as her eyes close, and she thinks she might have said something back to Jackie, but it might have also just been a soft hum in her throat. Either way, her aching body and Jackie’s soothing touch are enough to pull her back into a mellow slumber, her hand still resting on Jackie’s chest, the steady drum of a heartbeat under her fingertips reminding her that this was real. Somehow, this was real.
Jackie lets them lay there, drifting in and out of sleep herself. It feels wrong to be this content out here, but she can’t help it, not when she feels so warm. Her eyes drift to the corner where Shauna writes in her journal, not paying attention to them. It’s almost a relief, and Jackie sighs, moving one hand to hold the one at her chest, letting Lottie feel her heartbeat.
After a while, Misty comes back up. Jackie holds onto Lottie a little tighter, but she’s trying not to show just how uncomfortable Misty makes her. She needs Misty to keep taking care of Lottie. She needs Misty to make her well. “She’s resting, Misty,” Jackie whispers.
“She needs to drink,” Misty says. “You–- you both do. And maybe it’ll be good, you know, if the others see that she’s doing better.”
“Soon,” Jackie says, hesitating. “I–- Misty, I haven’t… I’m still kind of sick.”
“There’s no medicine out here, Jackie.”
Jackie fights off rolling her eyes. “I know. I just–- One of my ears feels weird. It has since I got back, and I’m– Can you look at it? Please? I’m a little worried.”
Misty looks at her for a second, and Jackie actually thinks she might say no, but she’s also a little smug, and Jackie thinks she hates turning down the opportunity to be needed. “You’ll need to get up.”
That… seems a bit harder. Jackie doesn’t want to let go of Lottie, nor does she really want Lottie to let go of her. Still, it’s best to just get it over with. She squeezes Lottie’s hand. “Hey,” she says softly. “I need to get up for a second.”
Lottie’s eyes close and then the next moment, she’s being gently awoken by Jackie. She blinks, shifts, sees Misty sitting nearby. “Is-- everything okay?” she asks blearily. She still feels like she’s half-asleep, sitting in that thick, syrup like state between waking and not. She doesn’t know how much time has passed, isn’t even sure she’s registered that it has, despite the sunlight that had previously been streaming through the window now shadowed.
“It’s okay. I just need to talk to Misty for a second,” Jackie says, offering Lottie a smile and moving so that Lottie can still lay down comfortably. “I won’t be long. You probably need to drink something, though.”
Jackie sits in front of Misty near the window, a lantern to help with the light nearby.
Misty is clinical. “You still have a touch of fever,” she starts, touching Jackie’s face. Her hand touches Jackie’s chest. “Breathe. Deep breaths… I don’t think there’s any fluid in your lungs. You’re lucky you didn’t get pneumonia.” She doesn’t need to sound so disappointed. “All of your fingers and toes working?”
Jackie flips her off, making Misty roll her eyes, though she also looks hurt. Jackie sighs. “Sorry. Yes, they’re all working.”
“Good.” Misty tilts Jackie’s head to the side and examines her left ear, then her right. She stops. “Hm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Misty’s hand goes up, but Jackie doesn’t feel any pressure or touch. “Nothing. Your ear’s probably just going to fall off.”
Jackie reels back. “ What ?”
“Well, the skin’s damaged, and it’s turning black, which is gangrene. It’s basically dead, and it’ll just fall off, eventually, though it might take a bit of time.” Misty shrugs. “It probably could have been saved, but somebody likely put heat to it without properly making sure there was blood circulation. The only thing to do at this point is wait for it to fall off or cut it off.”
There’s no way those were real words. Jackie didn’t think that any of that was particularly real at all.
Lottie’s head is aching and even though she can’t hear exactly what they’re saying, she can hear the distress in Jackie’s voice that’s sudden and stark. She’s sitting up, then, despite the pain that shoots through her chest as she does so. “What’s wrong?” she asks, the worry evident in her own voice. She moves, tries to get up, but makes a strangled noise of pain instead.
Misty is crossing the room without another thought to Jackie and pushing on Lottie’s shoulders. “Don’t try and get up, you’ll just hurt yourself more,” she chastises, “she’ll be fine. It’s just an ear.”
Lottie blinks up at Misty, then looks over to Jackie. “A-- what?” She hasn’t quite put it together yet, her mind still sluggish through the pain and exhaustion. “What do you mean?”
“Jackie’s ear,” Misty clarifies, “most of the skin died, so it’ll probably fall off soon. It wasn’t properly warmed and most of the nerve cells died.”
Lottie feels her heart stutter. She grips Misty’s arm tightly. This was her fault. She’d been the one who tried to warm Jackie up. She hadn’t known what else to do. She’d just wanted to help her and now she was going to lose a piece of her, too.
She tries to move to get up again but Misty is firm and Lottie feels something inside of her throat swell. It’s a fear she’s only ever felt a few times before. The last time she remembers feeling this way, a doctor had been standing over her, telling her to not struggle too much, it’ll just make it hurt more, as they put a clamp in her mouth and stuck a tube down her throat.
Lottie recoils from Misty, who looks hurt somehow. She reaches for the cup she brought with her. “Drink,” she tells her, putting the cup in Lottie’s hand, “you need to keep your strength up.”
Jackie moves to sit next to Lottie, attempting to calm her down. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, though she hasn’t quite processed what Misty’s said. “It’s just an ear.”
Her mother would be so fucking upset. Where does a missing ear fit into Jackie’s perfect image? It doesn’t. Maybe that’s not horrible. Jackie hasn’t felt perfect in a long time. She hasn’t felt perfect ever.
“Drink, Lottie. It’ll be okay.” Jackie gives Misty a wary look. “Should I… come down stairs?” Was it going to take that long? Jackie moves to Lottie’s hand, encouraging her to bring it to her lips to drink.
Lottie is parched but she doesn’t want to drink right now. “I’m coming, too,” she states, as if there’s no room for argument, but of course there is, and Lottie sees it in the way Misty turns her head sharply to look at her.
But Jackie hadn’t let Lottie go through the process alone when Misty had removed her dead toes, she wasn’t about to let Jackie do it alone, either. She looks to Jackie, desperate. She doesn’t think any of this is fair.
“Drink, Lottie,” Jackie repeats, pushing the cup up closer to Lottie’s mouth. She knows that Lottie wants to be there for her, but she’s still so hurt, and Jackie doesn’t want to risk moving her or putting her under any more stress than she’s already under. And that probably included having to watch Jackie get her fucking ear cut off. “I won’t be long, okay? It’s… just an ear.”
Lottie shakes her head. “It’s not,” she argues, and it feels familiar. It’s not just anything. It’s not just a few toes, it’s not just an ear, it’s not just a cold. It was never just anything.
Misty doesn’t look like she wants to deal with this. “I guess I can bring the stuff up here,” she relents. Her need for Lottie to be better seems to outweigh her want to not cater to Jackie. “I’ll go get Akilah, too.”
Lottie knows she needs to go down there at some point, Misty had said it earlier, it would be good for them to all know, to see her doing better, but she doesn’t want to face them all yet. To face the people she’s failing, has failed. The girls who killed a boy to save her.
Jackie sighs, watching Misty disappear down the stairs to go get whatever the fuck she needs to chop of a fucking ear. “Okay,” she says. “Now, drink, please?” She sits to Lottie’s right and brings a hand up to her ear. She can’t feel the touch at all. Her fingers recognize that she’s touching something, but she can’t compute that it’s something that’s attached to her. Not for long, apparently, but it’s still supposed to be. She can’t see it; maybe that’s a good thing.
Lottie sighs as Misty leaves, but she takes a sip of water, feeling it on her burning throat. It hurts to swallow still, but it hurts to just breathe too deeply, so it’s nothing really new. She watches Jackie and can’t help the guilt she feels, not just because she knows the pain Jackie is going to experience, but because this is her fault. Again. Everything lately seems to boil down to Lottie. She’s never been a good leader.
“I’m sorry.” She reaches out a hand and lays it on Jackie’s leg, thumb brushing in gentle circles. “We should have-- I should have made Misty look at you earlier.”
“I don’t think she likes me very much these days,” Jackie says drily, taking Lottie’s hand and lacing their fingers together without really thinking about it. It stings a little bit, she can’t lie. Jackie tried so hard to be nice to Misty, for the most part. All it ever really seemed was like she needed a friend, someone to comfort her and validate her. Jackie wasn’t a great friend, but she tried to offer Misty advice. She complimented her. And then Misty turned on her, and she just kept doing it. “It’s not your fault, Lottie. I’m… lucky it’s not something worse.”
“She’s just-- she lost her friend,” Lottie replies, but she doesn’t think that’s all there is to it. Misty has been upset with Jackie since before they even forced fed her just to get Lottie to eat. It all came back to Lottie, didn’t it? She sets the cup of water down. Lottie knows she holds onto her guilt too much, she’s held onto every ounce of it she’d ever collected over the years. Every breakdown in public that embarrassed her parents, every missed pass on the field, every girl who looked at her hopefully, waiting for her to feed them, only for her to, in the end, abandon them like this.
Her heart aches as much as her body. “I still should have…” Done something, said something. Done better . Lottie’s so shit at this. Maybe even worse at actually being a good friend. “It shouldn’t be anything at all.”
“I know,” Jackie says. “I don’t blame her or anything.” She could even relate. But Jackie doesn’t think she inspires the same fear in Misty that Misty inspires in her. Not since she shoved food down Jackie’s throat and made her eat out of her hand. Jackie scoots a little closer to Lottie, brushing some of her hair out of her face. “You can’t control the weather, Lottie. You couldn’t control me getting stuck out there for that long. Some things are out of your hands.”
“I saw it, Jackie,” Lottie says quickly, sitting up a little more as Jackie scoots closer, “I knew-- I know you don’t believe…in It , but I saw it. I dreamt it. I knew and I still let you go.” She tries to take in a steadying breath, but it shudders as she does, pain shooting through her abdomen. She has to close her eyes as the wave of pain passes through her, squeezing Jackie’s hand. “I don’t know how to do this anymore,” she whispers, making sure they’re still alone. Her eyes go to the hatch. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Jackie sees the panic starting to build and tries to help, remembering Lottie’s words from earlier, her actions to help Travis and Jackie herself. “Hey, breathe with me, okay? Just breathe with me.” She puts her free hand on Lottie’s chest. “You don’t… have to do anything anymore. You don’t need to know what you’re doing. None of us do. It’s okay.” And it doesn’t matter if Jackie believes in this shit or not. She knows that Lottie does, and she knows it’s important to her, and, yes. Lottie does seem to know things sometimes, and that’s… more than just some kind of illness. Jackie doesn’t know what it means. She doesn’t think they need to worry about it right now. “It’s not your fault. It’s not.”
“I can’t--” Lottie starts. She feels Jackie’s hand over her heart. It brings a comfort she doesn’t think she should have. “I have to. I have to. They need me and I just keep--” She just keeps failing them, all of them. And people kept getting hurt. And maybe that was why, maybe that was the real reason why she’d let Misty hurt her back. She wanted to shoulder all their pain, take it away, because she was the one who put it there.
A noise from the pantry makes Lottie’s head shoot up and she can hear Misty and Akilah climbing the ladder. She doesn’t want them to see her like this. She looks away, presses her face to Jackie’s shoulder. Tries to take in deep breaths, but the pain in her ribs is making that even more difficult.
“You’re not that guy that holds the world up, Lottie,” Jackie tells her. “You can’t do everything. I get that they need someone. We all do. That can’t just be on you, though.” She wonders if Lottie realizes that she needs people, too, and it aches for her to think about how lonely Lottie’s been for so long. Maybe her entire life. At least since she was a little kid. She hugs Lottie to her and pets through her hair.
Misty looks chipper, which means this is probably going to suck. “Knife’s ready, we’ve got some bandages, and Akilah found you something to bite down on. This shouldn’t take as long, though! No bones and joints this time, just some skin and cartilage. We can probably even do it with you sitting up.”
Akilah offers Jackie a smile and hands her a stick before bringing the lantern closer to where she and Lottie are sitting. “Hi, Lottie,” she says quietly. “It’s good to see you awake.”
Lottie turns to glance at Akilah, she gives her as much of a smile as she can, but she’s tired and she feels guilty and she’s worried about Jackie. She’s always so fucking worried about Jackie. It eats away at her insides and she wonders when she’s gained the capacity to care so much for someone when she’s spent her entire life trying to make sure she couldn’t-- didn’t. “Hi,” she says back to Akilah.
She shifts enough to give the other two room to get to Jackie, but she stays close and she grips Jackie’s hand tightly. Her eyes go to the knife, still glowing with heat from the flames it had been cauterized with. She remembers how the burning had hurt more, until she’d felt bones being separated from bone.
Akilah moves to pull Jackie’s hair back away from her ear and help hold her steady while Misty kneels near her with the knife. “Ready?” she asks.
“No one’s eating it,” Jackie tells Misty, eyeing the blade.
“Jackie, that’s disgusting. It’s dead, basically rotting flesh. Eating it would make us sick.”
The thought makes her gag, but Jackie shoves the stick in her mouth, bites down, and gives a sharp nod as she clenches her eyes shut. Lottie’s hand is so solid and warm in hers, and Jackie gives it a squeeze.
There’s nothing that can prepare someone for that kind of pain, Jackie realizes pretty quick. The heat is bad, sure, like, she can feel that before she feels Misty slicing through skin. But, to get rid of all the dead tissue, you have to get to living tissue, and that is white hot pain. Her jaw clamps down on the stick as she lets out a muffled scream, her body attempting to pull away, to hunch forward, but Akilah does a good job of holding Jackie still. She’s not even trying to move or scream or cry. She just can’t help it.
Misty finishes, pulling the knife and what looks like blackened flesh away, and Akilah takes over by putting a bandage to the side of Jackie’s head and holding it there. Jackie’s panting, her vision blurry, and she does sag forward, even as Akilah keeps a hold on her head to keep her from face planting.
Lottie squeezes Jackie’s hand back and tries to coax her through it as best she can while her ribs feel as if they’re trying to cut her open from the inside out as well. “Just let it out,” she says to her, keeping her voice soothing. She feels heavy and tired but she keeps herself upright, holding onto Jackie, clasping her hand in both of hers.
It doesn’t last nearly as long as Lottie remembers it having taken when Misty was digging around with that same knife in her foot. But she thinks for Jackie, it probably lasts forever. That’s what Lottie had felt like.
When it’s done, Lottie moves to help hold Jackie up, straining against herself to stay upright. She lets Jackie sag against her, holding her. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs into her good ear. The only one left, really. She meets Akilah’s eyes, as the girl shifts to begin wrapping the bandage around Jackie’s head so that it can keep pressure on her ear, help stem some of the bleeding.
Lottie wonders how many times they’re going to have to do this. First Van, then Lottie, now Jackie. How many more of them were going to lose parts of themselves before they all became husks? She holds onto Jackie and wonders how much of herself she can give to them before Lottie disappears.
“I don’t think it looks that bad, Jax,” Shauna murmurs in Jackie’s ear, the one that’s gone, the one Lottie can’t speak into right now because it’s covered and muffled and feels weird, hurts, even as Akilah wraps the bandages around Jackie’s head so that it stays in place.
Jackie knows Lottie has her, even if it’s hurting her, too, and she struggles to sit up so that she’s not leaning too heavily on Lottie, who’s in pain, who has broken bones and bruised insides, who was just dying the day before and might still be dying today.
“We’ll change the bandages after a few hours,” Misty says. She gives Lottie a soft look. “We should probably check your wounds for damage before dinner, too.”
Lottie takes a moment to reach out, to put her hand on Misty’s, even if it pains her, even if it scares her. “Thank you, Misty,” she says again. “And Akilah.” The two finish cleaning up Jackie and the supplies, before they make their way back downstairs and Lottie lets out a long exhale. She holds onto Jackie, rubbing her back as soothingly as she can.
“We kinda match now,” she mumbles after a while, when she finally feels Jackie’s heartbeat slowing from its previous erratic thumping.
Jackie lets out a groan, a wheezing sound that’s almost a laugh but not really. “Because we’re… both lopsided?” she asks, her voice breathless. She opens her eyes and starts wiping away some of her tears. She lets go of Lottie’s hand, sure that it hurts. “I’m sorry. Sorry.” Her fingers go to Lotte’s ribs, not quite touching her jacket. “Sorry.”
Lottie gives her a gentle smile. “Hey, no,” she says, lifting her now free hand to wipe away the rest of Jackie’s tears. “Don’t apologize.” She won’t say she’s okay even if she wants to, because she doesn’t want to lie to Jackie anymore. “It’s only fair, since I probably almost broke your hand, too,” she teases softly.
“I don’t have broken ribs, though, Lottie,” Jackie says, leaning into Lottie’s touch. She certainly feels lopsided, unbalanced. She can’t even hear out of her right side because of the bandages, but that should be okay when they come off, right? Like, she remembers that the hearing part of the ear is on the inside, and, while it definitely feels like Misty Quigley dug around in her head, Jackie knows that Lottie (and hopefully Akilah) wouldn’t actually allow Misty to stick the knife in her ear.
“Mmm,” Lottie hums, “I don’t recommend them, either.” She’s trying to stay light hearted for Jackie, she wants to keep her from thinking about the pain, because she knows what it feels like, and all Lottie has ever wanted to do is protect her friends, her teammates-- her family. It’s what they’ve all become to her out there. The only family she’s ever had. She brushes some hair from Jackie’s face, noting she’s sweaty again. “Do you want to stay sitting or lay down?” she asks.
“I’d be a little worried if you were giving the experience a glowing recommendation, Lott,” Jackie says, still trying to slow down her breathing more. “I… really don’t want to be sitting up for much longer,” she mumbled, liking the way that Lottie’s fingers felt brushing through her hair. “You? What do you want?”
Lottie doesn’t actually know what she wants. She wants to do what Jackie wants. “We can lay down,” she nods, “just drink a little first.” She reaches for the cup of water again, holding it up to her. She knows that all that crying and pain can dehydrate a person quickly. She just wants to take care of her. She wants to take care of all of them, but she wasn’t doing good at it.
She wants to do better with Jackie. She’s only one girl, but maybe she can help just one other person.
Jackie takes the cup from Lottie, taking a sip and then a larger gulp as she realizes how dry her throat is. “Thanks,” she rasps out, moving to lay down and tugging on Lottie’s sleeve.
This is, of course, where things get uncomfortable. Jackie can’t lay on her right side without it hurting. If she turns on her left side, she can’t hear, and she doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like this new form of vulnerability, one that can be actually dangerous. For as long as her ear is bandaged, she can’t hear well on that side, barely at all. Someone could sneak up on them. If she was outside, she wouldn’t be able to hear anything from that direction. Jackie lays on her back and glances over at Lottie.
Lottie takes the cup and sets it aside again, letting Jackie lay down first and decide how she was the most comfortable. She made sure to stay on Jackie’s left side, lowering herself slowly and inhaling sharply as little jabs of pain roll through her. When she’s finally resting, her whole body deflates again. Being upright for so long has stolen so much energy from her, she hates it a little bit. A lot, actually.
She reaches over and lets her fingers ghost over the bandage on Jackie’s head, down to her jaw. “How are you feeling?”
Jackie can hear how much it hurts Lottie to move, and all she wants to do is help her. What good is she at that, though? Lottie just got beat within an inch of her life, and Jackie’s the one behaving like a baby. Still, she’s honest as she mumbles, “Tired. Hurts.” She looks up at Lottie. “You? How are you feeling? Did I hurt you?”
“I’m sorry,” Lottie mumbles, her voice soft and quiet. “I wish I could take it away.” It’s all Lottie really wants to be able to do. Her entire life, all she’s wanted was to stop the world from hurting. She thinks about all the hurt she carries, too. She thinks it doesn’t really matter.
“About the same,” she answers. All she’s been the past few weeks is tired and hurt. “Don’t worry about that right now.” It’s not like worrying was going to make either of them better. Still, Lottie worried. She thought Jackie did, too. “I can’t get any worse, right?”
“It’s not your fault,” Jackie says, sighing softly. She reaches for Lottie and wants to be closer, but it takes her a second to get comfortable. She looks at Lottie again, her face set in a frown. “But you can get worse. You literally can.” Of course Jackie was worried about that. Of course she was. That doesn’t just stop because she’s hurt, too.
“I've just been laying around for--” It's here where Lottie realizes she actually has no idea how long it's been since the incident and now. She's almost afraid to ask-- “a while. I'll be okay.” And she truly wants to believe that she will be, even if just yesterday she'd been begging for them to let her go.
“I laid around for months, Lottie,” Jackie murmurs. “And I didn’t really get better from it, and I wasn’t injured like you are.” She brushes a hand through Lottie’s hair, proving herself up in an elbow to look at her. Her poor face, her poor body. Misty didn’t have to do all of that. She didn’t. It hurts Jackie just to think about it. “You have to… you have to be okay.”
“I will be.” Lottie makes herself sound as resolute as possible, looking into Jackie's eyes. “I will be.” It might just take a little longer than she'd like. She presses into Jackie's touch, a comfort she's found herself chasing more and more these days. She tucks her head against Jackie's shoulder, her bones feeling as if they were creaking with each movement.
“Just rest for now,” she urges.
Jackie can’t really do anything but nod, holding Lottie close as she leans against Jackie. She lets herself be comforted by the weight, and she hopes Lottie is comforted, to. She hopes so. Lottie called her comfortable, and it seems like she meant it, the thought making Jackie smile and press her lips to Lottie’s hair. Her eyes start drifting shut, though her fingers trace up and down. One hand grips onto Lottie’s jacket, holding her there. As if there’s anywhere else she could go.
Though she wants to stay awake, Lottie finds her eyes drifting shut all too soon. Jackie's presence is a comfort she's grown used to and one she doesn't want to be without. She knows she could do it if she had to, she's been alone all her life, but she thinks she might lose a big part of herself if she has to go back to that. To laying down alone, no one beside her. To moving about the world by herself, trying to figure her way out.
When Lottie falls asleep again, there's no nightmares or visions in her head, something that would have brought her comfort before. But now, with the physical weight of someone always with her, she likes how quiet her mind has become, even if it scares her to think It's abandoned her now.