Different [A Superhero AU] - Book One

Chapter Forty-Five - Midnight Intruder

A week of constant work passes. Every day, there's people to save and guns to confiscate. The New Age Institute grows silent, but the chaos continues as the city awaits their next words. Every single day, Mark gets home late and almost immediately falls asleep. His thoughts, when they aren't consumed by work, remain on Jack. It's been a week since they last saw each other, and Mark can barely stand it.

By the time the hero gets home from another long day of work, the moon is bright against the dark sky and the stars twinkle like glitter. Wind moans against the side of the house like a lonesome phantom, unable to get inside. He pushes the door open, allowing a bit of the breeze to enter before locking up the entrance. He stifles a yawn, the prospect of a warm bed and sleep becoming more and more alluring. Chica wags her tail lazily, nudging her head under his hand and urging him to scratch her ears as he attempts to pull his boots off. He eventually obliges to the wishes of his pet before heading up the stairs to his room. After pulling his pyjama pants on and crawling into bed, Mark is out like a light.

His much needed sleep is interrupted by the sound of footsteps from downstairs. Almost instantly, Mark is crawling out of bed and sneaking down the stairs, his fists raised. Much to his surprise, Chica doesn't bark or growl. She must know whoever is in his house, but who could that possibly be?  There's no way it could be who he wants it to be. 

Mark breathes softly as he tiptoes down the stairs, preparing himself for a potential fight. He reaches the bottom of the steps and peeks around the corner, a long sigh escaping him when he sees the trespasser illuminated by moonlight. 

"Jack, I thought you were an intruder!" he scolds, lowering his fists and allowing his shoulders to relax. Simply seeing the villain again sends a flood of relief washing over him.  

"Sorry," the Irishman replies, his accent drawling from exhaustion.

Mark flicks on a light, finally getting a good look at the villain. Dark bags line Jack's drooping eyes and his shoulders slump, his windblown green hair stark against his paler than normal skin.  It's a look that's all to familiar to the hero.

"Why are you here?" Mark asks, ruffling his bedhead. Just seeing the Irishman's exhaustion sends a pang of worry through his chest. "Aren't you going to get in trouble for this?"

Jack shrugs a little. "Probably, but I-I can't sleep..." He pauses, crossing his arms across his chest to stop the shivers that run through them. He coughs, the sound painful and ragged. "Those businessmen getting killed... it keeps running through my head and I can't stop seeing it. It was horrible... I didn't know where to go."

The images from the video flash through Mark's mind, as vivid as the day he saw them. The mysterious stab wounds, the glassy, empty eyes... It was like a gruesome horror show. The hero looks to Jack, and almost immediately the villain stares down at the ground.

"I'm not a murderer," he says softly.

Mark shakes his head and holds out his hand. "I never said that. Come on, follow me."

The Irishman lifts his eyes to the hero, reluctantly taking his hand and allowing the American to lead him up the stairs. Jack's hand is freezing in Mark's, sending another wave of concern through the hero. He remains silent as he pushes open the door of his room and allows his hand to fall to his side.

"How long has it been since you last slept?" he asks, starting to rummage through his closet for spare pyjamas. Jack is still in his super suit, although the boots that go with it are gone and probably at the door.

The villain rubs the back of his neck. "A week, I think." A slight, tired smile graces his face. "It's been a rough couple of days."

Mark spins on his heel, tossing Jack a pair of pyjama pants as he does. "Christ! You're going to die!" The Irishman catches the garments clumsily. "Get changed and then get some sleep."

Jack nods and turns, heading into the ensuite. Mark sighs heavily, his emotions all over the map. On one hand, he's thrilled to see Jack again. It's been so long, and he missed him so much it hurt. On the other hand, he's gone without sleep again. The hero can't help but wonder as to how he keeps going as the days go on.

Jack emerges from the bathroom and nearly stumbles to the bed, collapsing on the mattress and shutting his eyes. Mark covers him with the blankets before climbing in beside him, yawning.

Just as the hero starts to nod off, Jack's cold fingers brush the scars on his bare chest and arms. Mark inhales sharply as his eyes snap open, causing the villain to retract his hand.

"Sorry," he whispers.

Mark takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes again. "It's okay."

"Did I give you those? Oh God..."

"Go to sleep, Jack."

"I never wanted to hurt you-"

"Jack." The hero watches him, intensity radiating from his gaze. "Stop. Now. You told me that a lot of your pain is because of your circumstances. Anti is part of those circumstances, not you. It's not your fault.  This was Anti's doing." He reaches out and pulls Jack into his arms, nestling his nose into his hair. "Don't talk about it anymore. Just go to sleep."

The Irishman falls silent, curling against Mark. After a couple moments of silence, he chuckles. "We need to spend time together when I'm not falling asleep on you."

Mark laughs, the sound resonating in the room. "Yes, but if you continue to fall asleep when we're together, I have no problems with that."

"Good to know."

The hero grins sleepily. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too. Now shush," Jack says mid-yawn. His voice becomes softer as he continues speaking, his eyes shut. "I haven't slept in a week, remember? I'm exhausted."

"Of course, my little prince."

Jack doesn't respond, falling asleep in a matter of seconds.