Different [A Superhero AU] - Book One

Chapter Fifty - Letting It Show

Cry walks in silence towards Jack's room, pushing the door open when he reaches it and setting the unstable Irishman on his bed. Almost immediately, Jack curls up with his hands over his mouth in an attempt to stop the sobs that course through him. Cry watches for a moment before turning and leaving the room.

Jack doesn't remember the last time he felt this kind of exhaustion. Sure, he's felt tired from a lack of sleep and he's felt drained from a horrible heartache, but never before has it been like this. Losing a friend like Dan is like losing a part of himself, and the Irishman isn't sure how long it will take for him to get back to a state of relative normality.

After shedding enough tears to fill a swimming pool, Jack's body begs him to sleep. Moving feels like a chore, the grief in his heart spreading to his muscles and bones. Rest would be ideal, but every time he closes his eyes he sees a bullet ripping through Dan's head.

Normally when things got really bad, Jack would go to Dan and the two would sit around and talk to take their minds off of everything. Now that he's not around, there's only one other person that he could console with.

With a lot of effort, Jack drags himself upright and stumbles out the door. He heads down the hallway like a drunkard and approaches Cry's room, pushing the door open gently and poking his head inside.

Cry lies on his bed face up, tears running down his face and wetting his pillow. His body flashes brightly, his true emotions shining through as sobs escape him. Jack shuts the door and stands there for a moment, watching as the masked villain loses his cool and lets himself weep.

"Cry?" the Irishman whispers, his voice tight and unwilling to cooperate.

To his surprise, Cry doesn't seem at all surprised by Jack's presence. He takes a deep breath to calm the sobbing and drags himself upright, wiping the tears that linger on his visible cheeks and jaw.

"Hey," he mumbles. Cry coughs a little. "What do you need, Jack?"

"I, um... needed someone to talk to. Someone who cares," the Irishman replies with a bit of hesitance.

Cry watches him for a moment before nodding and motioning him over. Jack sighs heavily and sits down on his bed, wrapping his arms around his knees. The masked villain sniffles, the brightness of his skin dimming down. Jack watches as Cry observes his arms before looking over at the Irishman.

"I haven't taken my mask off in fifteen years to avoid things like this," he says softly. "I didn't want people to know my weakness, but I was also afraid that everybody would think I didn't care." He sighs. "I trust you, Jack."

Before the Irishman can respond, Cry reaches up and pulls his mask off, letting it fall from his hands and to the floor. It lands on the tile with a dull thudding sound, the noise failing in helping Jack figure out what it's made of. There's no strap that would hold it to Cry's face and although the front has no facial details, the back has indents of a nose and mouth.

The first thing Jack notices when Cry looks at him is his eyes.  For whatever reason, the Irishman had always imagined them brown, but now that he looks at him, he realizes that they're grey like metal and storm clouds before the rainfall.  When Cry glances at him, his skin grows bright and his grey eyes turn gold. For the first time Jack sees the amount of pain and sorrow the formerly masked villain feels, and it's surprisingly comforting.

Tears spring to Cry's eyes and without thinking, Jack leans over and hugs him.  The American tenses up for a moment before hugging back.

"I miss Dan. I really, really miss him," he mumbles.

"I do too," Jack replies, his throat tightening. He releases Cry and hugs his knees once again. "Where do we go from here?"

The villain leans back against the wall, his face to the ceiling. "The city is crumbling. Now that the government in San Francisco is gone, the people are bending to my father's will. Us villains have to keep going like we always do."

Although he feels a surge of sadness in his chest, Jack nods.  "I wish we didn't have to."

"So do I, but we don't have much of a choice." Cry shrugs. "It sucks, but this is what we've gotten ourselves into, and I'll do anything to keep you guys safe. Losing anyone else..." His voice trails off as his body flashes. He clears his throat. "Anyway, thanks for being here, Jack. It really helps with the whole grief thing."

A light smile finds its way onto the Irishman's face. "You're welcome, Cry."