londoncallingrpg

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OTA

Sometimes, bar fights just didn't happen the way you wanted them to. As in, they were cut short before you got much more than a bruise and a cut on your cheekbone. Jag was pissed off as he stumbled away from the bar, holding a kleenex to his cheek. With his other hand, he was fishing his mobile out of his pocket. Who knew, maybe Coby would be in the mood for a little mutual pain tonight. Or even just a blowjob, Jag wasn't going to be picky.

He threw the kleenex in the gutter and scrolled through his contact list, but before he could find Coby, he found himself shoved up against a wall in the deserted street. By a woman. A really fucking strong woman, who licked his bleeding cheek before telling him, "You're delicious."

"And you've got weird kinks," he muttered, eyes flicking away from her and at the nervous-looking girl behind her.

"Are you sure you should be doing this?" the girl asked, switching from foot to foot. "The sheriff -"

"The sheriff isn't here," the woman cut her off, then grinned at Jag, baring bloody fangs.

Before he could think anything of it, pain lanced from his neck as she buried them there. "Fuck," he muttered, not exactly sounding as if he disliked getting his blood sucked out of him. Not as long as the pain of those fangs didn't go anywhere, anyway.

"Just, maybe don't kill him?"

The vampire pulled back from him with a roll of her eyes, still holding Jag against the wall. His neck was still hurting beautifully. "Of course I'm going to kill him. I'm tired of being on a leash. Do you want a drink, or not?"

Right, okay. Wonderful pain was one thing. Being drained dry, another. "No one's killing me," Jag muttered.

"Oh yeah?" The woman snorted. "The food thinks it's got a say in..."

She never finished her sentence, as Jag's fire washed over her. Jag expected it to hurt the fuck out of her, and make her back off. But apparently vampires were extremely flammable, because she caught on fire properly and was reduced to ashes within seconds.

"Fuck," Jag said again. He looked up at the girl vampire, who screamed and then ran off, faster than his eye could track. "Fuck," he repeated, and began to sag to the ground now that no one was holding him up against the wall.

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"Something like that," Val said with a sad little smile. "It just helps the stone focus. It's going to do all the heavy lifting, I promise."

"Gate's closed. The crowd's gone home. The big tent's empty for the night," Em said softly, thinking of what that last card had shown her.

"You were sitting by the fire, surrounded by the kids, and Lala was squealing with laughter, 'cause you turned your jageskro into a bunch of butterflies just for her and sent them flying over her head just out of reach. And you can feel it, the fire in your chest, as bright as her laugh and the kids' eyes, as warm as home can be. Davey wanted you to make..." she trailed off, not sure what Davey'd wanted because it wasn't a night she'd been with him visiting home, but able to guess that much from the quick glimpse she'd had in the cards.

Jag frowned at first, unsure what she was saying, until she mentioned Lala's butterflies, and the memory came back to him, as if from another time. "A chopper," he finished for her. "He's obsessed with helicopters and planes." He called forth his fire, shaping it into the flying machine, and focused on that bright warmth in his lungs, Em's hand on his back, and the memory of the kids' laughter as he shaped what they wanted in the flames.

While they spoke, Val moved to fetch something from his desk, a simple coin shaped pendent hanging from a leather cord. Returning to them, he wound the leather around his hand, then clamped that hand over the stone Jag was holding. The pendent wasn't ideal, but it was the only bit of silver he currently had laying around the office, and it would have to do.

He could feel it getting so hot in his palm that it burned, but that just meant the stone was working. That it was acting as a conductor, moving the curse from Jag to the silver pendent.

He didn't speak, didn't say a word. He didn't want to break Jag's focus or the perfect picture of a memory Em had painted for the other man.

Jag's fire warmed more than just the air around them as he picked up the memory, and Em could feel herself almost smile as she watched him shape the flames. She didn't say anything, not wanting to disrupt the feeling or what Val was doing, just kept her touch smooth and steadying.

Jag forced himself to stay focused on that image, but it was difficult when Val came over and did whatever he was doing that involved clasping his hand over Jag's. It wasn't Val's fault, it just brought Jag back to how much of a wanker he'd been with him, even more than with Em. The helicopter slowly went out, and Jag said, softly, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, maybe you need to think of something else for a bit," Val said, not too worried yet since the stone was still hot. Clearly something was happening, maybe it just needed another nudge.

"Just look at me for a moment," he suggested, his free hand moving to rest on Jag's knee. "Do you remember the day we found the mirror? Do you remember being in the woods? Can you think about that for a bit?"

Maybe just focusing on something from before the mirror had come into their lives would help a bit.

"You'll be okay," was quiet, mostly covered by Val's reassurance, but Em also shifted closer, running a hand through Jag's hair. Hoping this would all work the way it was supposed to. It had to.

Jag was exhausted, coming down from being drunk, had an itchy neck wound, and a mountain of guilt. Their touches, their kindness, only made it all worse in that moment. It wasn't all right, and it wasn't him he was worried about. Tears sprang to his eyes and he looked to the side, trying to blink them back, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He needed a few long seconds before he was able to look back at Val and hope his voice wasn't too choked up when he spoke.

"I'm not cursed, I'm just a wanker."

How could he expect him to focus on how happy they'd been that night, when he'd fucked it all up since? It had been pure him, too. The same sort of bullshit he'd pulled with everyone who'd got close.

"You can be both," Val assured him, offering a sad smile and squeezing his knee. "Just try, yeah? For us," he said, nodding at Em. "That's all I'm asking."

Jag wasn't a wanker, but tonight wasn't the time to argue the point, so Em held back the words she wanted to say. "You can do this. For us. We're not asking for anything you can't give. Just trust us, all right." To her own ears, Em sounded more confident than she felt, but Jag could do this, and he needed to feel her belief in that.

Jag really wasn't sure that he could do this, but the least he could do was not disappoint them, after everything he'd put them through. He'd try, although he sniffled before he called the fire back. The fire helped, always, and he focused on its warmth inside his chest as he shaped it into his usual bird, leaning into Em's hand and closing his eyes, thinking far enough back that neither of them were in the memories he went for, so his guilt would not disrupt them. It was his first performance, him so much younger but elated with the experience, the crowd mesmerised by the fire he wove, and the pride and love obvious in Kennick and Drina.

Val could feel the stone growing hotter and hotter, warming the silver in his hand. It burned a bit, but he kept his hand still for as long as he could stand, praying it had been long enough as he snatched the stone out of Jag's palm and stood up.

It appeared to be clear again, that was a good sign too- Though he said nothing, refusing to let himself feel hopeful just yet.

Fire always helped, so Em worried a little less when Jag called it back again. He could do this. And he must have, she hoped he had, when Val stood, taking the stone with him. But she didn't want to say anything, if she was wrong, or if there was more to be done.

Jag blinked his eyes open when Val took the stone and moved away, watching him with a frown and keeping the fire going. "Is it done?" He didn't feel any different.

"I don't know. I don't think we'll know until you leave the circle," he admitted, nodding at the engraving on the floor.

Is the curse broken? should be a straightforward enough question the tarot would give a clear answer, but Em had no idea if the magic behind the curse might interfere. And she hated that she just then thought of that possibility.

"If the curse isn't broken, the circle should keep him inside?" she asked Val, wanting to be sure she understood.

That was what Jag had assumed, since Val had talked of binding him inside it, and he pushed up to his feet slowly, holding on to the back of the chair as he glanced at Val and waited for an answer.

"In theory, yes," Val said awkwardly. "I've only ever done this once before. ...Well, I say done, it was more I watched..."

That was enough to make Val the expert in the room, and Em nodded, trying not to be too hopeful. Yet. Nothing to do but see what happened when Jag tried, and she mindlessly wrapped the ends of her hair around and around a finger as she waited.

"I don't feel different," Jag told them, the shadow of fear in his eyes. Still, he stepped towards the door, meeting no resistance on his way.

Shit, he wasn't going to cry, and he blinked away the tears that welled up in his eyes.

"Jag?" Val asked softly, watching the other man, but not stepping closer. He had no idea how he might be feeling, and the last thing he wanted to do was violate the other man's personal space.

Em did move closer and reached out, but hesitated before actually touching Jag, not sure if it would be welcome.

"You didn't feel any different when the curse first hit either," she pointed out, trying for encouraging. Not that she really knew how he'd felt at the time, but the way Jag had acted while cursed, if he still was, he'd have no qualms about telling her how wrong she was.

"I still don't know that I was cursed," Jag pointed out, his voice quiet to keep the lump of tears from it. He tried to look over at Val, but could only glance his way before his gaze locked with Em's, and yeah, her touch was welcome. "Can we please go home?"

Jag wouldn't look at him, and Val felt an ache in his chest that he'd been trying to ignore all night.

"You can leave whenever," Val said quietly, watching the pair for a moment, and feeling iced out by how at ease they seemed to be. It seemed Jag didn't need him at all.

OTA

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