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[hebeimmortalized]

Feb 17, 2017; late evening

Jillie takes a deep breath as she watches her brother's silhouette draw closer through the window. It's stupid to feel nervous, but she hugs Newt's coat tighter around herself. She certain Jack won't be angry at her, but it's as much the idea that she'll upset him at all that has her feeling a little sick.

Her makeup is a mess, and she can feel her cheeks drying stiff from her tears. She can imagine what will go through his head when he sees her, and braces herself when the door opens.

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[hebeimmortalized]

After awhile, the steady presence with her in the bathroom encourages her to stand, and she scrubs herself. By then, her skin is pink where the water's been hitting it, and it feels good to move it elsewhere. She turns the water off and grabs one of the towels nearby, wrapping it around herself so she can step out. She's scrubbed her makeup off, and her hair is a crazy wet mess around her head. It's grown a bit since she's come here. It's almost long enough to start tying into pigtails.

She uses the hand towel to wipe the mirror off. The bathroom is heavy with steam; she looks at Jack and leans against the counter, watching him. Her biceps have bruises where she'd been grabbed, and she looks exhausted, but otherwise better.

"Thank you," she whispers.

[rockabillyboy]

"Jillie, where else would I be?" he says, quietly. "C'mon. Bedtime. PJs. Extra blankets. And then you can tell me about dancing."

[hebeimmortalized]

She nods, and she brushes her teeth, combs her hair a little better, and then wanders out of the bathroom to do all of that. Because, really, snuggles in her bed with her brother sound like the absolute best medicine right now.

[rockabillyboy]

While Jillie's getting herself ready for bed, Jack pads up to his bedroom at the top of the house and changes into his own pajamas, brushes his teeth. He comes back down and sprawls on Jillie's bed, watching her move around her space.

[hebeimmortalized]

Her room has been slowly gaining color, decor, and a life of its own. Presents from her new little family have ended up on the walls and on her desk or dresser. Her night stand has her sketchbook and a handful of loose pencils. More are scattered along the floor underneath it, and there's a line of dirty clothes that she hasn't bothered picking up.

The towel joins it after she's got panties and a tank top on, and she belatedly pulls her pajama pants up before climbing onto the bed and sidling close.

"I didn't know you and Kavinsky were doing the thing again," she says. Her voice is soft, even though they're alone and don't really need to whisper.

[rockabillyboy]

Jack wraps his arm around her waist, automatically tugging her in against him, his chin against her shoulder.

"We're seeing how it goes," he says, softly. "He wants to date, this time? I don't...We'll see how it goes. How Poison goes."

[hebeimmortalized]

"Does P not want you to?" she asks. It feels better, easier, to focus on this than her own shit, especially now that she's clean and home and comfortable.

[rockabillyboy]

"P's okay with it in theory. Him and Kavinsky don't get along that well. I think they're too similar, underneath it all." He lets out a sigh, a little puff of air. "It'll all figure it's way out in the end. I'm just trying not to hurt anyone."

[hebeimmortalized]

She nods quietly. After a time, she shifts so she's curled against him, head on his shoulder.

"Make sure I call my therapist in the morning," she murmurs. She wants to make sure she doesn't forget.