(MA) Getting Ahead of Myself
Oct. 15th, 2018 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_death_cardWhat: During the year of prep, Jack gets homesick and makes a call.
During the second month, he calls Max.
He knows he's not allowed to use Eye resources right now, and he knows this is a risk and possibly not allowed, but it's been a hard week. The others have started noticing, too, though he's brushed it off as building nerves and anxiety for the shows, as concern that he might not be able to keep up with the more experienced magicians - and that's certainly part of it. He's done more street stuff in the last seven years than he can honestly remember, but he's never been on stage the way the others have. He's still more excited than he can say to be on a stage with these three, but he is nervous, too, about letting them down - or about letting down his dad.
He's trying not to think about his dad, but the fact remains that, despite his excitement, he's only getting more and more homesick. He stopped going home only a week into their year of prep, after the others had moved their things out of their apartments in Chicago and L.A. and New Orleans and when he knew he needed to be around them, to help build the team. At the end of the first month, though, he was homesick enough that he had stopped by the Brownstone during the afternoon, when he knew his dad would be at work - and had immediately regretted it when he realized Dylan wasn't staying there, either. It had done the exact opposite of what he had hoped it would, and he'd lost the rest of the afternoon in the park doing street magic, carefully keeping his distance from the carousel, knowing that would only make things even worse.
A week later, he wakes up from the first nightmare about something happening to his dad, of getting a phone call from his uncle. He wakes gasping and fumbling for his phone, double-checking that he hadn't missed a call - and then spends the next hour practicing card tosses until Henley joins him for Go Fish.
The next day, he's alone in the apartment, and he stares at his phone for ten minutes as he rolls some of the beads of his necklace between his fingers before he scrolls from "Dad" down to "Max" and hits dial.
"Are you supposed to be talking to me right now?" Max says by way of greeting, but his tone is warm under the dryness, and Jack chuckles, shifting a little to lean back in his chair.
"I don't actually know, man, but I had to talk to somebody, and I figured the odds of somebody listening to your phone were less than somebody listening to my aunt's."
"Unless, of course, someone's listening to your phone, and then the point is rather moot."
Jack makes a face into his phone. "Okay, didn't think of that. How'd you know, anyway?"
Max chuckles. "We all hear about it when someone's running a test, and the fact that there are four of you at once is an even bigger deal than usual." There's a beat as he pauses. "But I'm guessing you didn't call me to discuss the Eye's proverbial grapevine."
"No," Jack agrees with a sigh. "I want to go fucking home," he continues, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, reaching up with his free hand to thumb at his eyes, "and I can't call Dad because the story's gonna be that we haven't talked in almost a year so the FBI doesn't catch on, and I want this, I want this so bad and I've wanted this for years so I wasn't just getting into the Eye because I'm Jacob Shrike's son but it's been..." He pauses, trying to think. "I don't even remember the last time I wasn't home for more than a week that wasn't just vacation, and that's not the same thing, and Henley's already asked me if I'm okay and I can't keep running away from Merritt anytime I'm having a bad day because that's just a giant sign telling him to get in my head and see what's going on but I'm so fucking homesick and I feel like a dumb kid." It all comes out in a rush, and he takes a deep breath in, wiping the tears off his face he had barely noticed were falling.
"Well, first of all, it doesn't make you dumb, even though I would also argue that you are still a kid," Max begins, and Jack snorts softly, a little despite himself. "But more seriously: don't feel bad for missing your father and your home. Like you said, it's been some time that you were away from both of them for an extended period of time, and the fact that you went so long without a proper home is of no help in this situation."
"Point," Jack says softly. If it were anyone else, some remnant of the angry kid he used to be might rear its head and complain about possibly being pitied, but Jack already knows Max wouldn't do anything like that. It's part of why he called him, after all.
"As for the rest of it... between what you've learned from your father and from me, you have the skillset to keep Mister McKinney from prying where you don't want him to, even if you need to use some... subterfuge to keep him out. You can still be homesick without revealing just what you're homesick for."
Jack tilts his head a little, reaching up to rub a hand over his mouth, part of him realizing belatedly that he's mirroring Dylan again. "So you mean just... feed him something else?"
Max hums agreement into the phone. "That is what I'm saying, yes."
"Okay," Jack begins, thinking. "Okay, yeah, I can do that. I'm still trying to figure out, like... they already know I'm adopted, but we haven't really talked about our families too much otherwise, and I don't want to lie and say Dad and I aren't close because that is a lie and Merritt would see through it. So maybe I can just... not say anything and let them draw their own conclusions."
"That is sometimes an effective technique, yes." He pauses a beat. "I know mentalism isn't your favorite, and Mister McKinney might well outclass you on it, but you can hold your own when it comes to it."
Jack smirks faintly at the compliment. "Thanks, Max."
"Of course," he returns and then pauses a beat. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah," he breathes into the phone - and it's true, he does feel better. He's still homesick, still misses his dad and his dog and the brownstone, but it doesn't feel like he's about to drown in it like he did before. "Yeah, I am. Guess I just needed to talk to someone who knew what was going on, you know?"
"I do know," Max agrees. "You'll be fine. It won't be long before this will all be wrapped up and you will be home. Focus on that and on the fact that your father likely misses you just as much."
Jack nods again. Considering the brownstone clearly isn't being lived in at the moment, he has a feeling it's more "definitely" than "likely". "Thanks again."
"You're welcome," Max returns. "Break a leg, Jack."
The smirk returns as Jack huffs another chuckle into the phone. "You're gonna love it, man."
"I'm sure I will, but I'll let you keep those details to yourself." There is a slight edge to his tone that doesn't surprise Jack considering he does know it's possible he's toeing a line making this call.
"Right, yeah," he agrees quickly. "I'll see you later, Max."
"I'll talk to you later," Max agrees. "Goodbye, Jack."
"Bye." Jack takes the phone away from his ear and taps the screen to disconnect the call before tucking it back into his pocket and pushing himself to his feet. It's easier to gather himself, now, and he takes a breath and tucks his necklace back under his shirt before heading for the living room. He should probably get something done before the others get back.
During the second month, he calls Max.
He knows he's not allowed to use Eye resources right now, and he knows this is a risk and possibly not allowed, but it's been a hard week. The others have started noticing, too, though he's brushed it off as building nerves and anxiety for the shows, as concern that he might not be able to keep up with the more experienced magicians - and that's certainly part of it. He's done more street stuff in the last seven years than he can honestly remember, but he's never been on stage the way the others have. He's still more excited than he can say to be on a stage with these three, but he is nervous, too, about letting them down - or about letting down his dad.
He's trying not to think about his dad, but the fact remains that, despite his excitement, he's only getting more and more homesick. He stopped going home only a week into their year of prep, after the others had moved their things out of their apartments in Chicago and L.A. and New Orleans and when he knew he needed to be around them, to help build the team. At the end of the first month, though, he was homesick enough that he had stopped by the Brownstone during the afternoon, when he knew his dad would be at work - and had immediately regretted it when he realized Dylan wasn't staying there, either. It had done the exact opposite of what he had hoped it would, and he'd lost the rest of the afternoon in the park doing street magic, carefully keeping his distance from the carousel, knowing that would only make things even worse.
A week later, he wakes up from the first nightmare about something happening to his dad, of getting a phone call from his uncle. He wakes gasping and fumbling for his phone, double-checking that he hadn't missed a call - and then spends the next hour practicing card tosses until Henley joins him for Go Fish.
The next day, he's alone in the apartment, and he stares at his phone for ten minutes as he rolls some of the beads of his necklace between his fingers before he scrolls from "Dad" down to "Max" and hits dial.
"Are you supposed to be talking to me right now?" Max says by way of greeting, but his tone is warm under the dryness, and Jack chuckles, shifting a little to lean back in his chair.
"I don't actually know, man, but I had to talk to somebody, and I figured the odds of somebody listening to your phone were less than somebody listening to my aunt's."
"Unless, of course, someone's listening to your phone, and then the point is rather moot."
Jack makes a face into his phone. "Okay, didn't think of that. How'd you know, anyway?"
Max chuckles. "We all hear about it when someone's running a test, and the fact that there are four of you at once is an even bigger deal than usual." There's a beat as he pauses. "But I'm guessing you didn't call me to discuss the Eye's proverbial grapevine."
"No," Jack agrees with a sigh. "I want to go fucking home," he continues, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, reaching up with his free hand to thumb at his eyes, "and I can't call Dad because the story's gonna be that we haven't talked in almost a year so the FBI doesn't catch on, and I want this, I want this so bad and I've wanted this for years so I wasn't just getting into the Eye because I'm Jacob Shrike's son but it's been..." He pauses, trying to think. "I don't even remember the last time I wasn't home for more than a week that wasn't just vacation, and that's not the same thing, and Henley's already asked me if I'm okay and I can't keep running away from Merritt anytime I'm having a bad day because that's just a giant sign telling him to get in my head and see what's going on but I'm so fucking homesick and I feel like a dumb kid." It all comes out in a rush, and he takes a deep breath in, wiping the tears off his face he had barely noticed were falling.
"Well, first of all, it doesn't make you dumb, even though I would also argue that you are still a kid," Max begins, and Jack snorts softly, a little despite himself. "But more seriously: don't feel bad for missing your father and your home. Like you said, it's been some time that you were away from both of them for an extended period of time, and the fact that you went so long without a proper home is of no help in this situation."
"Point," Jack says softly. If it were anyone else, some remnant of the angry kid he used to be might rear its head and complain about possibly being pitied, but Jack already knows Max wouldn't do anything like that. It's part of why he called him, after all.
"As for the rest of it... between what you've learned from your father and from me, you have the skillset to keep Mister McKinney from prying where you don't want him to, even if you need to use some... subterfuge to keep him out. You can still be homesick without revealing just what you're homesick for."
Jack tilts his head a little, reaching up to rub a hand over his mouth, part of him realizing belatedly that he's mirroring Dylan again. "So you mean just... feed him something else?"
Max hums agreement into the phone. "That is what I'm saying, yes."
"Okay," Jack begins, thinking. "Okay, yeah, I can do that. I'm still trying to figure out, like... they already know I'm adopted, but we haven't really talked about our families too much otherwise, and I don't want to lie and say Dad and I aren't close because that is a lie and Merritt would see through it. So maybe I can just... not say anything and let them draw their own conclusions."
"That is sometimes an effective technique, yes." He pauses a beat. "I know mentalism isn't your favorite, and Mister McKinney might well outclass you on it, but you can hold your own when it comes to it."
Jack smirks faintly at the compliment. "Thanks, Max."
"Of course," he returns and then pauses a beat. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah," he breathes into the phone - and it's true, he does feel better. He's still homesick, still misses his dad and his dog and the brownstone, but it doesn't feel like he's about to drown in it like he did before. "Yeah, I am. Guess I just needed to talk to someone who knew what was going on, you know?"
"I do know," Max agrees. "You'll be fine. It won't be long before this will all be wrapped up and you will be home. Focus on that and on the fact that your father likely misses you just as much."
Jack nods again. Considering the brownstone clearly isn't being lived in at the moment, he has a feeling it's more "definitely" than "likely". "Thanks again."
"You're welcome," Max returns. "Break a leg, Jack."
The smirk returns as Jack huffs another chuckle into the phone. "You're gonna love it, man."
"I'm sure I will, but I'll let you keep those details to yourself." There is a slight edge to his tone that doesn't surprise Jack considering he does know it's possible he's toeing a line making this call.
"Right, yeah," he agrees quickly. "I'll see you later, Max."
"I'll talk to you later," Max agrees. "Goodbye, Jack."
"Bye." Jack takes the phone away from his ear and taps the screen to disconnect the call before tucking it back into his pocket and pushing himself to his feet. It's easier to gather himself, now, and he takes a breath and tucks his necklace back under his shirt before heading for the living room. He should probably get something done before the others get back.
