Fic: yes the heart should always go one step too far

[leigh57]

title: yes the heart should always go one step too far
word count: 499
disclaimer: By now, you guys all know that my mind on Jack and Renee is the poor egg on drugs (work with me). 'Nuf said.
warnings: show spoilers, references to suicidal thoughts and self-harm

This is for you, ws_scribe, with Christmas love and wishes for deployment that's as good as it can be during the holidays. For the complete list of prompts, you can click here.

Title is from 'Go Places,' by The New Pornographers.

*******

The hard part, it turns out, isn’t wanting not to die.

It’s wanting to live.

She does all the 'right' things.

Up and showered by nine (lipstick and mascara even if she's not going anywhere) so she won’t pull the covers over her head and keep hiding, bran flakes with skim milk (on weekends she cheats with Cocoa Puffs, feels decadent), outdoor walks regardless of weather, ten minutes of meditation to soothing new-age music before seven and a half hours of sleep.

A walking checklist of therapist-pleasing perfection.

She’s still stuck in the middle.

She thinks about the song.

Subtracts the "with you" part.

It’s December 17, assault of sparkling red and green when she just wants to buy tampons, perky Christmas music blaring from all the directions at once.

She huddles into the corner of her couch (clutch of hot chocolate in her cold hand); the wall behind her vibrates with bizarre hard-rock holiday tunes courtesy of the frat boys next door.

It’s pathetic as fuck and she knows it, but she can’t think of a single reason to smile.

*******

She saved all seven of Jack’s messages, but she’s listened to each one only once.

Now she plays them back in sequence, volume cranked high to drown out AC/DC creating unfortunate slant rhyme.

The first time, each soft syllable felt like stabbing.

Now, all she hears in the low, velvety-carved words is worry.

Concern.

Understanding.

She jams her thumb down on the call button before she can talk herself out of it again.

Edgy and nervous, she jumps at the click that signals connection.

And he doesn’t say, I’ve called you seven times. Why the hell didn’t you pick up? or, That wasn’t quite what I meant by ‘Try and make choices you can live with.’

He says her name.

Renee.

His voice feels like a fresh-from-the-dryer down comforter after you’ve been standing in a blizzard wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hi,” is all she manages.

"I'm so glad you called," he says. But he sounds out of breath and she can tell he's keeping his voice low. There's noise in the background, conversation and the throb of music.

"Are you at Kim's?" she blurts. "We can talk another time."

"I'm in PT. Shit. I can't believe-" He hesitates. She closes her eyes and just listens to him breathe. "Can I call you back in half an hour? Wait, twenty-six minutes."

Then he laughs.

Barely, but the sound is so unfamiliar and lovely that she wants to record it, play it back when it's 3 a.m. and she's about to lose a staring contest with a bottle of Absolut.

"Of course. Take your time."

"Twenty-six minutes," he repeats. "Bye."

The smile she couldn't find before the phone call sneaks up from behind, taps her shoulder.

She glances at her watch.

Twenty-five.

*******


I have been mainlining Mary Chapin Carpenter's "Hot Buttered Rum" for a day now. If you are at all into music that sounds like poetry, I recommend it highly. *swoons*

And as always, entirely non fic-related comments/observations/randomness are welcome in this entry. Bring it on!

Comments

[lauridsen09.livejournal.com]

I miss your old layout.

Also, hi. *waves*

I feel like we need to set up a prayer circle or burn some incense something so LJ will get its life together.

[sparkles-mouse.livejournal.com]

I'm supposed to be researching for 100 words but this seems better. And I don't work so yeah.

A walking checklist of therapist-pleasing perfection. - I love this line.

It’s pathetic as fuck and she knows it, but she can’t think of a single reason to smile.- Renee-Nay!!! Someone needs a unicorn this Christmas!

His voice feels like a fresh-from-the-dryer down comforter after you’ve been standing in a blizzard wearing shorts and a t-shirt. - I have so much love for this sentence I can't stand it.

Mmmm Jack. Sometimes you get me addicted to things I never asked for. Love you.

[ws-scribe.livejournal.com]

OMG! I loved this!

I'm sitting in the self-help laundry place (because, apparently, I can't walk and drink coffee at the same time - all over my sweatshirt) and I was trolling LJ for suitable distractions and I find...THIS! This absolutely PERFECT portrayal of Renee. And Jack. Just...I can't even.

And he doesn’t say, I’ve called you seven times. Why the hell didn’t you pick up? or, That wasn’t quite what I meant by ‘Try and make choices you can live with.’

He's just so damn happy she called. And of course, she calls him during the ONE thing he can't really postpone. But he makes her smile and that's what she's been waiting for.

God. Just...you kill me!

And look at that, on Dec 2. You're amazing! Oh, and since I've been SO disconnected from LJ...can I just say that I love your Xmas layout, but I can't wait til you put up the old one. Cuz, that. That is pure Jack/Renee love and devotion.

[marinw.livejournal.com]

His voice feels like a fresh-from-the-dryer down comforter after you’ve been standing in a blizzard wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

*Thud*

I am loving these AU's where Renee answers the phone! This means that Day 8 happens differently? Please?

[sardonicynic]

This is —

You know, S, I don't even have adequate words for what this is.

Amazing-gutting-visceral almost says it.

Today, you were so beyond kind to say that some of my stuff is a paragon of economy. (Which, by the way, I am still all a-wibble, I'm not even kidding.) Well, this is that. And yet more. I love each and every word, weighted with impact; every line resonates like a landmine.

As much as I adore every detail you've woven in here, this closes an iron fist around my heart:

She's still stuck in the middle.

Because being caught in that awful fugue, mired in mental and emotional quicksand, is just awful.

Oh, Renee.

And you. Jay-eff-cee.

Lovely and cutting and perfect, through and through.

[alwaysashipper.livejournal.com]

This was amazing. I can't even describe it. You have such an incredible way with words, and you're so connected to these characters... It threw me right into it, and very vividly. I'm almost surprised it's sunny outside. :)

So much fail for not finishing What If You Catch Me, Where Would We Land yet. I need a vacation.

[siricerasi.livejournal.com]

Gosh, so lovely. Renee I want to give you a huge hug.

A walking checklist of therapist-pleasing perfection.

Just gotta say this made me LOL.

[adrenalin211.livejournal.com]

There are about ten thousand reasons why this is amazing, first of which is the way you manage, even when economizing words and drabbling it up, to include these details that bring color to the picture. We're talking lipstick and bran flakes, cocoa puffs to feel decadent, the gut-wrenching way you state, so frakkin' simply, that it's hardest to want to live. You could have been so goddamn dramatic about it, written a whole story of emo self-pity, but this isn't that story. It's just...there. Like truth italicized.

A walking checklist of therapist-pleasing perfection.---Yes! That is SO Renee, you know? She would do ALL the things herself, and then be like... meh. Well pft. I can just SEE THIS IN MY HEAD.

She thinks about the song.

Subtracts the "with you" part. -- I love this line here. Not just that it's here, but the suggestions of what's not here. How you subtly sneak that in and bring it back later when there's not a single reason to smile. Next step? Call Jack! Duh.

AC/DC creating unfortunate slant rhyme.-- Your details continue to paint the scene and add reality to this whole world in your head. I'm experiencing it all as though I was there, and you make that experience effortless for your reader.

And this whole bit, the way she only ever listened once ((that is so goddamn RENEE) and the words had felt like stabbing and THIS: Now, all she hears in the low, velvety-carved words is worry.

Concern.

Understanding. AUGH. Here is my heart throbbing out.

And another favorite line (OMG I'm gonna quote everything amidst my enthusiasm or something.

And he doesn’t say, I’ve called you seven times. Why the hell didn’t you pick up? or, That wasn’t quite what I meant by ‘Try and make choices you can live with.’

He says her name. YER KILLIN' ME, SMALLS. HE SAYS HER NAME. HER NAME. Goddamn. And then how he's "so glad" she called. SO GLAD. He says SO GLAD. This is so motherfucking perfect.

The smile she couldn't find before the phone call sneaks up from behind, taps her shoulder.

She glances at her watch.

Twenty-five. -- This might possibly be the best drabble ending you have ever composed. There is nothing I do not fall down in flail about.