(unnamed 'verse) -- I'm on a losing streak

[the_death_card]

For not the first time, Jack is somewhere he shouldn't be. It's also not the first time he's regretted being in it - though not why he's here. The bar just sucks, even if the friend that asked him to come with doesn't. He lost her to her boyfriend and the dance floor a few songs ago, though, and he's been guarding their table while the two do their best to have fully clothed sex under the flashing lights.

He wants to leave, and he should. He's underage, his curfew is in less than an hour - and the fact that he actually cares about that is new. Rhodes is still the strangest foster he's ever had - but he's also quickly turned out to be the best, and he doesn't actually have a reason to be an asshole to the guy like he did so many of his other placements.

Jack glances at his watch as the song ends, downing the rest of his Coke as he starts to get up, to find June and her boytoy in the crowd - but then he glances toward the bar, eyes drifting over the crowd gathered there. A group of snickering fratboys has him rolling his eyes - but then he catches movement between them, and he stops. He's been running hustles and picking pockets long enough to know sleight of hand when he sees it, and he tracks the movement of a small vial from the pocket of one of them, to their hand - to the drop of liquid into the glass of a girl next to them.

"Fuck," he swears, his voice lost in the bass of the next song, and he makes a decision as he sees the girl reach for her glass. It's easy for him to slide through the crowd, up to the bar, to take the glass out of the girl's hand and take a drink.

"Hey!" she complains, and Jack looks at the glass, feigning puzzlement at her upset.

"Oh, shit, this was yours? Shit, I'm really sorry," he all but yells at her, and she still looks upset, but the anger's fading, now. "Let me get you another one." He sets her drink down out of her reach and reaches back, presumably for his wallet - but his hand dips into the back pocket of the frat boy behind him as he nods to the bartender and then to the girl, to get her her new one. "Sorry again."

"It's okay," she tells him and moves away once she has her new drink, and Jack sighs, tucking the frat guy's wallet into his own pocket as he takes her seat. The frat boys are glaring at him, but he ignores them, reaching for the spiked drink to pass it over to be dumped. The fact that he hasn't been drinking should buy him some time, and he has some other plans before he bails.

Ten minutes later and a round of the dance floor, he has the other two wallets, an iPhone, some other smart phone, a watch, a baggy of what he assumes is ecstasy, and the vial - and the frat boys have a nice dose of it in their own drinks. He also has a headache and the beginnings of double vision, the room feeling too hot, the feeling of a buzz creeping up on him despite the fact that he still hasn't had any alcohol.

"Fuck," he says to no one again when he runs into someone instead of dodging around them, and he changes directions to head for the bathroom. The X goes into the toilet before he puts the lid down and sits down hard, fumbling for his phone with hands that don't feel like his own. It takes him three tries to dial Dylan's number, and he drops his head into his hand while he waits for the phone to ring.

For not the first time, he's in serious trouble. He just hopes this time goes as well as the last time he needed his foster's help.

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[the_death_card]

Jack continues to do his best to not make this harder - and though he doesn't quite go completely limp once Dylan has him picked up, he does relax - and then huffs out a breath, relaxing even farther when they get outside into the fresher air and lesser noise.

[onebehind]

Carrying him the short distance to the car, Dylan pauses briefly, if only so he can pull one of the back doors open, and then takes a half step away.

"I'm gonna set you down," he warns in the instant before he does so. Never mind the fact that, even once he has, he doesn't let Jack go, afraid he'll do a swan dive into the pavement at his feet. "You need a hand getting into the car?"

[the_death_card]

Jack could still use the hand keeping his feet, and he sways a little despite Dylan's hold. He looks thoughtful for a moment before he huffs out a wry, exhausted breath. "Nah. I can fall down easy enough."

Since that's essentially what getting into the car will be, planting his butt in the seat and then stretching out, which he intends to.

[onebehind]

"Alright," Dylan allows. Despite that, however, he stays close, keeping a wary eye on Jack as he gets into the car. He closes the door behind him, once he's in and heads for the driver's side.

"Do I need to take you to the hospital?" he asks, once he's gotten into the car, himself. He's still not sure what the fuck's going on, only that it probably doesn't involve alcohol, considering Jack's opinions on his own drinking. He's not sure he won't take him to the hospital, anyway, regardless of what his answer is.

[the_death_card]

"I don't know," Jack admits, voice muffled for a moment because he's running his hands over his face now that he's settled into the backseat. "They put some shit in her drink, and I..." He trails off.

He doesn't know what it was or how much he actually got dosed with - and while he knows date rape drugs for what they are, he doesn't have the knowledge to remember which taste salty or whatever. And even if he did, he was in too much of a hurry to really notice.

[onebehind]

Dylan catches Jack's reflection in the rear view mirror as he starts the car and frowns at him for a long moment. He thinks he can guess where Jack was going with that, and while he doesn't disapprove, that not the source of the sourness of his expression, he's trying to decide whether or not they actually need the hospital.

And -- yeah. Some of the shit the kids these days use can do things like cause respiratory failure, he knows, even if he's not sure which one of them it is or if Jack would be able to identify it, even if he did. He's not sure, with that risk being on the table, just making him drink a few bottles of Gatorade and some sleep will do the trick. He doesn't want him to die because he did nothing.

That in mind, as he puts the car into drive, he tells him, "We're going."

[the_death_card]

All his emotions are pretty clear right now, when he's doing well to stay conscious, let alone keep his face from showing everything he's feeling, and he clearly doesn't like the idea of going to a hospital. He's been in them before thanks to assorted asshole fosters, and it's never a good time.

He's not going to argue, though, and even while he looks uncomfortable with the idea, he just nods. "Okay."

[onebehind]

"I know you're not thrilled," he tells him gently, glancing back at him in the rear view again, "but some of that crap can kill you. And I don't ... "

He can't quite bring himself to finish that thought, and so he simply repeats, "We're going."

[the_death_card]

"You saw my file," he mutters into a pause, a little petulantly even though he doesn't mean for it to be - Dylan knows why he's not thrilled, but again with not arguing. He's also not catching any importance to Dylan's pause if there is any, considering how out of it he is. "But no. I know."

[onebehind]

"Yeah, well. I think you're already traumatized." What with having been drugged in the first place. What difference is a little more trauma going to make in the long run? "I figured you'd like to pass on dead, though."

[the_death_card]

Jack snorts but doesn't reply beyond that, his eyes slipping closed. He's still holding onto consciousness, his face not quite going slack, but he's also getting tired of fighting it.

[onebehind]

"Hey," Dylan says sharply, after a moment of silence. "I need you to stay awake. I know it sucks, but we'll be there in a few. Just a few more minutes." Jack can pass out when there are medical professionals around to deal with it where he can't.

[the_death_card]

Jack takes a sharp breath, eyes not quite flashing open, but he does rouse again, reaching up to rub at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Sorry," he mutters.

[onebehind]

Dylan grunts in lieu of a response, then, in a flash of inspiration, reaches for the radio. "I'm gonna put on some music."

Loudly. Hopefully loud enough to keep Jack awake. Never mind the fact that the club's music couldn't keep him together. He figures this, the music blaring through the speakers all around him, will be better than hearing it, muted, through several doors.

[the_death_card]

Jack doesn't acknowledge that but he does seem to have an easier time keeping his eyes open from that point. Conversation is a bit beyond him at the moment, though - if it was even possible over the volume of the music - so he's otherwise silent.

[onebehind]

Noting that, Dylan allows himself a moment of relief, but only a moment. He continues to check on Jack, through the rear view several more times and as they make their way towards the hospital.

Thankfully, they reach it without incident, considering his distraction, and once he's found a parking spot, he kills the car and the music, and gets out hurriedly. He's opening Jack's door again a second later, reaching for him, careful but firm. "You need me to carry you again?"

[the_death_card]

"I don't know," Jack admits honestly, starting to reach for his seatbelt before he realizes he never put it on in the first place. He turns sideways, taking Dylan's hand as he slides out of the car and gets to his feet.

It's pretty clear he's managing a little better, now. He's still shaky and is probably still going to need help, but: "I think I just need help?"

He doesn't really mean for that to be a question, but there are still some threads remaining of trying to do everything himself, of not knowing how to ask for help or accept support. They're delicate and fraying, though - but that shift is still making him feel almost as fragile as the drug is.

[onebehind]

"I can do help," Dylan promises gently. A pause follows, as he shifts to drape Jack's arm over his shoulders and wrap one of his own around his waist, and then he continues, "This good?"

He won't start moving until Jack does, and when he does, he'll literally fall into step with him.

[the_death_card]

Jack lets himself be shifted, leaning into Dylan and nodding. "Yeah," he agrees - and then takes a step forward, continuing on toward the hospital doors when his legs seem more ready to hold him this time.

[onebehind]

"Alright."

And so they head into the ER waiting room, where -- where there are twenty thousand other people, all apparently waiting. Dylan stops one of them, as they head back from the desk to sit down, presumably for the umpteenth time, to ask how long the wait is and the answer's not good. Oddly, however, once they get to the desk and Dylan actually talks to the woman behind it, touching her hand briefly as he explains what happened, there's a doctor waiting to see them right away. It doesn't take long after that for him to find Jack a bed.

[the_death_card]

Jack's out of it enough that he doesn't actually notice anything weird - other than the fact that yes, they do get through a lot faster than he's used to when it comes to doctors.

He doesn't comment on it until they're actually in the room, though. "So flashing a badge actually works, huh?"

He's kind of assuming that's what just happened.

[onebehind]

If Jack had been more together, Dylan might not have done what he just did. Maybe. If Jack had been more together, he wouldn't have needed him to, but he's not sure he still wouldn't have been worried enough to potentially blow his own secrets. He supposes, though, that it doesn't matter, now. They're here, Jack's going to get better and his secrets are, presumably, safe.

"You'd be surprised how much," he answers, flashing him a brief smile. "I don't always pull rank, but people are usually willing to get out of my way, when I do."

[the_death_card]

"You're one of the good cops," Jack tells him, slurring a little, sounding almost like he's falling asleep. "Cops suck, and Feds really do, but you're one of the good ones."

[onebehind]

Dylan shifts a little, uncomfortable not with what Jack says but the idea that he might be falling asleep. Logically, he knows that if that might be harmful, the nurses either would have given him something to help, right off, or told him to keep Jack awake, and since neither happened, it must be okay. It still makes him nervous, however, even if he doesn't protest it.

"Thanks," he says instead, summoning up some measure of wryness beyond his worry. "I think."

[the_death_card]

Jack just hums an acknowledgement of that - and then huffs out a breath as he pushes himself up a little. "And sorry I'm a pain in the ass."

Both tonight and otherwise.