[SE] you'll never know it's coming

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

Jack has also gone North, unbeknownst to Flora. And what's more, he was always planning to go that way after Longnight, but arguments are funny things, aren't they? (They aren't, actually). Either way, with a sweet Flowerbirth breeze in her sails and the estuary spanning beneath them, Jack sails The Ark into the Greatwood with bright eyes and sharp focus. The wind has him tugging up the collar of his coat and turning into it so he can better call orders to the crew - there are plenty of trees that might snag and grab at the hull as they pass overhead, and as skyports go, the Observatory isn't an easy one to get into.

Still, with plenty of business opportunities opening up now that the forest isn't overcome by the void - and given that he's much more equipped to sail the world regardless of whether there's an ocean beneath him, Jack is keen to arrive before nightfall, and at least there isn't any fog to contend with. Leaning against the railing, his long hair tossed by the breeze, he cranes over the edge of the ship to spy the tops of the trees as they close in, ensuring they aren't at risk of clipping them.

you look like my next mistake

Flora tilts her head back, squinting against the late Flowerbirth sunlight as something dark and familiar cuts across the sky. The breeze catches in her disheveled curls, salt-tinged and sharp, and for a second—just a second—she thinks she’s imagining things.

Then the ship banks, shifting slightly against the wind, and her heart lurches painfully in her chest.

No way. No fucking way.

Her stomach twists—part shock, part frustration, part something far messier that she isn’t ready to name. Because, really, what were the odds? What were the fucking odds that now, after more than a week of nothing— boom—there he is? The Ark, his ship, his world, carving a path through the sky like he hadn’t left her stewing in her own thoughts for days.

Flora's jaw clenches, her hands twitching at her sides, and before she can even think about it, she’s digging through her bag, yanking out parchment and charcoal. With a huff, she glares at the parchment before staring up at the ship, daring it—daring him—to respond.

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

Yes fucking way, as it happens.

The Ark has started to drift up once more under Jack's orders when he spots a furious little speck on the shores of the estuary, and even though he's well out of range of his magic, and Flora's features are utterly indistinguishable, something makes him check the parchment in his pocket.

Of course it is.

Scribbling something back and letting out a shrill whistle, Jack alters their course with the sort of mastery over his magic he might have only once dreamed about. With his telepathy pinging at any member of his crew who hasn't gotten the message and his air manipulation working against the breeze to let them tack back around, by the time he drops said rope and starts to slide down it, The Ark is low enough to the water to kiss it.

With his cheeks a little flushed from the effort, Jack nevertheless lands confidently, his coat open but his hands gloved against the lingering chill. "Fancy seein' you here," he announces as he makes out Flora's pretty face.

you look like my next mistake

Flora doesn’t even let him finish his sentence.

The moment Jack's feet hit the ground, she rounds on him, every ounce of frustration, loneliness, and anger that she’s spent the past week simmering in boiling over all at once. "You absolute—" Flora snaps her mouth shut, biting back the very real possibility that she might just scream. She folds her arms tightly, like she might be able to contain the storm swirling inside her, but her mind is an open sea in a hurricane, violent and raging. The waves crash too hard, too fast, drowning any attempt at reason. Flora was not the sort of girl who cooled off when given space; if anything, being away from Jack had only made it worse. No, actually, his couldn't-care-less-replies over their parchment is what had really done it.

The jagged edges of her thoughts, sharp as coral, entangling as seaweed, spread out like a vast reef of unspoken words, all vying for pole position until her tongue was nearly tied with it. "If you wanted to know where I was specifically you could have asked at any time," she snaps, though she knows he wouldn't have, because he didn't care.

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

Jack's eyebrows raise, his head cocking to the side, and though he doesn't step back with the torrent of her thoughts, the tightening at the edges of his eyes show very well that he's hearing them - every single one of them, in fact, the feelings cutting along his magic like very fine razors. He waits for more - he waits for her to slap him across the face, actually, and is surprised when that isn't the latest addition to her repertoire - and only when it doesn't come does he speak again.

"No," he says quietly, knowing from last time that his being calm is likely only going to piss her off more, but Jack has only grown more calculating over the past few seasons. "It isn't that I don't care. If you'd wanted to tell me specifically where you were goin', you would have."

Burying his hands in his pockets, he remains by the rope snaking away up to The Ark hovering overhead. "Let me get this right, though, just so I'm clear. You decided to pack up and head here rather than comin' to talk to me. You've wound yourself up and pissed yourself off more because you ran an' I didn't chase you like you wanted me to, and now all this is still my fault?"

you look like my next mistake

Flora grits her teeth, her arms still folded tightly across her chest as she glares at Jack like she could set him on fire just by willing it hard enough. "Oh, fuck off with that," she hisses. "You know what isn't true." And he did, thanks to his telepathy, though apparently asking him to read between the lines of the messages she sent him was perhaps asking too much. But of course she had wanted him to ask. And yeah, obviously she wanted him to chase her, to ask where she was going and when she was coming back—but why shouldn’t he have? Why was it always on her to go to him, to push and pry and pull just to get him to care out loud?

She shakes her head, curls bouncing, her jewelry glinting sharp in the late afternoon light. "How am I ever supposed to have a conversation with you when you tell me that basically you're going to do whatever the fuck you want and if I say anything to the contrary I'm being controlling." Her voice is low, biting, her nails digging into her own arms.

"So yeah, I left, because it's nice to be around people who actually like being around me." She huffs sharply, blinking against the sting behind her eyes, tilting her head up toward the sky like she can somehow force it back down. But oh, the betrayal is blooming inside her like a thorned vine, twisting tight around her ribs, pressing against the space where she keeps the things she doesn’t want to say out loud; I don't think you actually want to be with me, Jack.

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

"You don't get to make up an argument and then be fucked off with me for not crawlin' after you like a lost dog," Jack says curtly, his blue eyes flaring with the first low flames of his temper. "You put so much stock in that fuckin' parchment? Read it all again." Read him asking if she's safe, or the multiple messages he'd sent when she hadn't returned home. Read the apology for his actions when he knew he'd been a bastard, and him immediately coming to her when learning of Seren's death.

"This ain't me sayin' I'm gonna drink and whore myself across Caido and there's nothin' you can do about it. This is about gettin' back at people who fuckin' killed us. I'm allowed to want revenge for that, and I'm allowed to do it whether or not it's a comfortable feelin'. It's my fuckin' life too, Flora." He scowls, the words low and quiet but no less heated for it.

And then she drops the great unsaid thing, and whatever Flora's been throwing at him the entire time, this one finally hits home. The laugh that shivers out him is half shocked and half incredulous, Jack shaking his head to her slowly.

"No," he says softly. "After all this? All we've been through, all I shared with you, the things I've said that no one else has ever heard from me, I can't believe you'd be that fuckin' cold to even think it. No, Flora. If anythin', I don't think you wanna be with me. And you don't know how to say it, so it's up to me to act the villain again."

you look like my next mistake

"I didn't make up an argument." Scowling, Flora shakes her head. "I tried to have an actual conversation with you—about something pretty fucking important, I might add—and you said I was being a coward and that you were just going to go off and do whatever and I couldn't do shit about it.You don't get to be like that when you're in a relationship with someone. You don't get to casually act like you can forfeit your life and tell me I don't get to have a say in it." Tears bite at the back of her eyes, but it's the thought of Jack dying—again—that has her gasping for breath.

As he continues, the Doubletake stares at him, her breath catching sharp in her chest as the words hit—as his laugh slices through her and gods but she feels so fucking small and foolish. "What?" She staggers back, as if he’d physically struck her—as if the words have weight, pressing against her ribs until she can’t breathe around them.

Her stomach lurches, a sick, twisting thing, because what the fuck? She’d given him everything. Everything. From the moment she was old enough to have a crush on him, she’d wanted him. And when it became real, when she’d finally had him, she’d tucked her feelings away, held them tight against her ribs, never forcing them on him, never making him feel like he had to say something he didn’t mean even when the words I love you rattled around so hard inside of her chest she felt as though she could feel herself bruising from the inside out. She'd kept his secrets even when she hadn't asked for them, and had taken every shitty little breadcrumb of affection he gave and acted like it was enough.

And now, because she’s angry, because she has the audacity to want a kernel of accountability for him, because she doesn’t want to watch him walk himself into an early grave, she’s the cold one?

She shakes her head, breath hitching, nails biting into her palms. "You want to stand here and tell me I don’t want to be with you?" Her laugh is bitter, disbelieving, as his had been. "You can go fuck yourself, Jack. You have no idea what it means to actually love someone."

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

The ice that splinters out of Jack is like a whiplash, a jagged and uncontrolled spiral from his feet that glints, razor sharp in the fragrant air, and he can taste blood with the way he is suddenly biting his tongue. "I never called you a coward," he hisses, every word as calm as he can make it. "And I never said you couldn't do shit about it. You wanted to stop fightin' the Family. I don't. To keep you safe, I don't." He'd said it then and he's saying it now.

"And every time you act as if that decision is an instant death sentence is an insult, Flora. What'd you think I'm gonna do? Knock on Dahlia's door and spit in her face? Challenge Pierce to an arm wrestlin' contest? I'm not a fuckin' idiot, and it'd be a lot easier to want to chase you around if I felt like you had a crumb of faith in me." Not that it matters all that much, of course, because for all the blistering thoughts that race through Flora's mind, it's her words that cut the deepest.

You have no idea what it means to actually love someone.

Feeling his throat grow uncharacteristically tight, Jack offers her a tight, cold smile and sketches a mockery of a bow. "I did say I wasn't good enough for you," he says roughly. "I'll be on my way, if you're quite done judgin' me for somethin' I never had before now."

you look like my next mistake

Flora sucks in a breath, sharp and ragged, her lungs aching from the effort of holding herself together. Her whole body vibrates, the raw energy of her frustration simmering just beneath her skin, barely restrained. "I don't need you to keep me safe—" The words shriek from her lips before she can claw them back, the brittle sound of them echoing mockingly across the water. Tears trickle down her cheeks as she grits her teeth together, her chest rising and falling too fast as hysterical breeze begins to scream through her mind. "I need you not to die." The words dissolve into a sob as Flora bitterly glares up at the sky, holding her breath as if it might hold back her tears. She could be brought back from the dead more easily than anyone thanks to who she was and the lengths her parents would go to for her; she didn't need protection. Just love.

Really, it was the only thing she'd ever wanted.

"I don't know because you never tell me anything." She goes on, trying and failing to keep her voice even. "There's just a few shards of mageglass between now and when Pierce killed you, and since magic doesn't do anything when he's around, it isn't about faith Jack. They killed us—probably killed Seren, and—?" Oh, fuck, Jack wouldn't have known yet. "—they infected Ronin." There was faith and then there was the basic arithmetic that said if they could get to the likes of Ronin or Sunjata, what hope did Jack have?

"Don't you dare." Now Flora really is screaming, on the verge of hysteria to see Jack threatening to turn away. "This is exactly what I mean, 'cause you do know Jack." Flora takes another step toward him, finger still pointed, accusation crackling in the air between them. "When you wanted the Ark, you built her from the bones up, and when you fucked up when you were learning how to captain her, did you sulk and walk away?" Ahh but there it is; they were both wrong. Jack does know how to love, because he's always loved that fucking ship.

"If you actually loved me and thought you weren't good enough, you wouldn’t be standing here saying it like it’s some grand noble sacrifice. You’d be fucking fighting for it."

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

Already bruised and stinging from Flora's initial lash of anger and hurt, as fury and frustration pivot into upset, forgive Jack for needing a second to collect his fucking bearings. "Between the feather in my pocket, bein' able to chit-chat to your dad from the great beyond, your channelling and my own dealings with Safrin, I ain't sure how much more protected against dead I can get," he snaps. If Flora needs him to not die, he thinks he's got a really good chance at getting that right, at least.

Not wanting to point out that all she's ever wanted sits as a reminder in a bit of parchment he'd written her whenever she wants to peek at it, instead Jack is already shaking his head, and preparing to grab the rope so he might literally sail away from this onslaught. Only the mention of Ronin being infected has his head snapping around, the captain swearing under his breath.

"When was I s'posed to tell you anythin', Flora? You stormed off across the beach the second you realised I was serious about not backin' down, then fucked straight off here," he says - not that it matters now, because the damage is already done, and no amount of aha! no actually, you love The Ark! is going to change it.

"There's no noble sacrifice, love," he grates. "You said somethin' that really fuckin' hurt me just now. You don't get to demand I fight for you when I'm tryin' to figure out what I'm fightin' for. I deserve at least a second to wrap my head around the shit you spout when you're fucked off at me."

you look like my next mistake

"Oh, I dunno, maybe while I was trying to talk to you, instead of just saying I didn't have a say in anything you do? Or, you know the magical fucking parchment?"

As Jack continues, Flora's breath catches, her chest tightening as his words slam into her, as sharp and cutting as sea spray in a storm. A mix of fury and disbelief flares across her face, burning hot against the tear tracks on her cheeks. "You—" She stops, her voice catching on the jagged edges of everything she wants to say, everything she feels, everything that should be obvious.

Because what the fuck does he mean, fiGurING OuT WhAt He'S FiGhTiNg FoR?

Her lips part, but for the first time in this whole mess, she doesn't have a quip, doesn't have some razor-sharp retort to fling back at him. Instead, she just stares at him, at the rope he's reaching for, at the ship hovering overhead like a storm cloud, at the sharp, closed-off lines of his face. And then, very, very quietly—too quietly, after all the screaming—she asks, "So..you're just gonna go, then?" Her nails bite into her arms where she’s folded them across her chest again, like she’s trying to physically hold herself together, or maybe protect herself against Jack, who knows.

In her mind, if you loved someone, if you really, really fucking loved them, you wouldn’t need to wrap your head around anything. Unlike Jack, apparently, Flora knows what she's fighting for, and it's why she's fighting so fucking hard even if it's coming out all wrong. It's why she constantly bends herself into any shape he asks of her and is so offended when he's unyielding in return.

there exists a tipping point between gods and monsters

"Oh? You wanna cast your mind back to that night and remember how well it was goin', me tryin' to talk to you?" Jack asks with a tilt of his head. "Or, for that matter, when I ever said you didn't have a say? I asked you not to expect me to stop fightin'. The same as I didn't expect you to keep fightin', if you were done. I'd not take that choice from you. So I'm guilty of a lot of shit, Flora, but you've made me a lot more of a bastard in your head than even I know how to be."

And it's still happening even now. Jack can't love her properly, can't love her enough, or well enough, or intensely enough. He can't give her the passionate fairytale she's wanted for the same amount of time he's told her he can't give it to her, and suddenly it's a surprise when it's all falling apart. "I ain't ever asked you to bend yourself any way except the ones that make you feel good," he retorts before he can help it. "I never asked you to be a martyr for me."

As for whether he's going to go, he scoffs and stares somewhere out at the estuary. "Depends," he mutters, before glancing back to her. "I love you." She'd asked him to say it more often, and now is as good a time as any. "Is that enough?"

you look like my next mistake

Flora's breath shudders, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as Jack's words crash over her like a rogue wave; okay, so maybe he'd been right about how much worse she'd made it all in her head, but gods, she didn't know how to stop herself. "That is you saying I don’t have a say! What say am I supposed to have when you tell me that you expect me not to stop you?" Her voice breaks. "If I told you I was going to walk into Stormbreak and let Dahlia infect me, would you really just let me do it?" Would he just stand there and watch her destroy herself, the same way he was asking her to watch him throw himself back into the fire?

At 22 it's far too easy to be swept up in her own anger, such that even as Jack's words temporarily succeed in softening her edges, just as quickly her mind breathes new life over the hot coals. "Oh is that so? When you decided to tell me about you, and it was basically keep your secret or have you threaten to kill yourself if it got out?" It hadn't felt like he'd trusted her back then, more than it did a careful manipulation of her feelings.

"If I hadn’t bent, there would never have been a this. That’s how things fit together, Jack. Her voice is quieter now, but no less intense, no less sharp. "Straight boards don’t hold together on their own. They either have to be shaped until they fit or nailed into place." Insert being nailed joke here

In the silence that settles as she waits for his answer, Flora feels like glass on the verge of shattering, such that as Jack says those three little words, unbidden and in the midst of a fight, the queen can barely help the broken little sound that slips from her lips. She runs to him, closing the space between them in a blink, crashing against his chest like a ship desperate for shore, clutching at him like she’s afraid he’ll disappear. Her fingers slide beneath his coat, trembling, her body shaking with sobs she doesn’t even try to swallow back. I don't want to leave you, she thinks helplessly. Not ever.