Next time, I'll be braver. I'll be my own saviour.

“Are you all covered up in bandages?” He asked, a bit slow on the uptake and more so because he wasn’t entirely sure how or why this was happening to her. Of all the things she could have become, she became a mummy.

If this were any other sort of moment, he would have laughed at the pun and told her that she was ‘mummy’ the day she brought Anwen into the world. But that might have been in poor taste and he wasn’t exactly feeling like starting a row with his wife. At least not right now.

He could feel her hand then, trying to find its way to his. He smiled at the familiar movement and then further as he looked up and met her face, not caring if she wasn’t able to actually hold his hand and still managing to wrap his over hers.

“That’s right. ‘Queen of the Night’, you are. Maybe could even shoot for ‘Empress’ if you’re really feeling ambitious.” He chuckled, giving her a genuine smile. When Gwen started to shift, he sat back releasing her hand and let her move allowing her the graces to do what she wanted.

And then when she gave him her set rules, he stared directly at her with a raised brow and further, a dark chuckle. “I’ll try not to shed but the others are just a bit too tempting and… Gwen, Love, I do need to breathe.”

Her more human side insisted upon calling the damn thing a necklace when the word at the back of her mind was ‘amulet’ in some other language. She knew inherently that it was more precious than any other shiny artefact she could have collected. She suspected that it had something to do with her unpredictible use of telekinesis and, perhaps, even her breathing and mobility in general but not wanting it touched was all she’d be willing to admit to just yet. 

“I’m sorry,” she said after a beat, not to negate her warning or any of the rules she’d presented, but just because she’d known even before all this that her husband deserved better. Gwen moved with hesitance disguised as laziness this time. She slowly pulled her blankets down and then kicked them away, confirming the point she’d meant to address earlier: that it was indeed all plaster, linens, and greying, weirdly-preserved flesh from head to toe. 

And that was true. He started to dodge her smack, unwilling to feel her wrath even if it was from a small slap. But he paused when she thanked him. Allowing his smile to falter and then turn into a smaller and more genuine one, Jack reached over and took her hand in his.

“You’re welcome,” he stated warmly before deciding to throw in a few choice words anyway. “But don’t be expecting me to do this for you daily or even often. I…” he was going to tell her that he wasn’t drinking blood, that he barely had enough in him to keep himself going. But he didn’t, he wasn’t going to worry her, especially not now that she was able to feel alive once more.

When she asked if he was going to drag her out of his room, Jack let go of her hand and remained quiet for a few moments before lurching forward to pick her up off the bed and to sling her over his shoulder. “Yup, but don’t worry! We’re only going to the parlour room.”

He didn’t resist the chances he had, and gave her bum a slap before exiting her room and making his way down the stairs and towards the front room of the first floor of the large building. “I’ll even open a curtain for you so you can see what’s going on outside. We’ll both hate it, but I think a little sunlight will do you some good.”

Jack clearly believed they’d be stuck as monsters for the foreseeable future but he still wouldn’t be willing to provide another quick-fix like this. Gwen felt cheated and teased but she willed herself to make the most of what she had for as long as it could last. She nodded slowly to convey that much. 

The understanding she’d implied, however, was not meant to extend to his wild plans for the parlour nor this means of transport. Gwen squirmed and grumbled something particularly vulgar until she thought better of it and did her best to hold on, fearing what might happen if Jack set her down less than gently. 

Oh god, I’ve just realized. You’re entire life is just one big terrible pun right now. A mummy who’s a mummy. Are you my mummy? 

Yeah, it’s a laugh. First time in a long while I’ve actually wished I could see my mummy. I owe you so much better than this, Anwen. You and Emrys...

That’s a bit creepy. Just a bit. Convenient, though. 

[Private]

By the way, just, sort of hypothetically speaking… if it came to blows between people in the Pocket, would you say that your loyalty is still to Jack?

[Private]

However, it soon began to take its toll on him and he began to feel exceedingly weak, even going so far as to lean against the bedside table for support. “Gwen…” he warned, giving her the chance to politely back off from him. “That’s enough,” again, he tried to be kind, to calmly allow her to stop.

But that didn’t seem to be working as well as he hoped it would. “Gwen.” He stated a bit more forcefully, starting to tug at his arm but finding her grip only tightening. “Gwen, that is enough!” He commanded, ripping his arm and tearing his flesh as he did so from her mouth.

Holding his wrist up in the barely there light, he watched as it slowly began to heal itself shut. Raising a brow, he turned his gaze towards her, taking in the wondrous beauty of life that his blood could give. “You nearly sucked me dry and I didn’t even get satisfaction from it, I’m calling a redo at another time.” He smiled gently at her before holding out his hand for her to take.

“Also you’re starting to look human again, it’s amazing what a little blood can do to a shriveled up corpse.” He knew he was going to pay for both of those comments at a later date, but he didn’t dare to care.

She needed him to understand that he’d done this and that seeing it through would be the only way to- 

Gwen sputtered and then cried out with both physical and emotional anguish for the loss. Her immediate instinct was run her hands along her arms and over her own face, checking for signs of life and... “Oh, thank God.” The relief was enough for her to let Jack’s first quip slide without even a frowned response.

The later, however, came as she was beginning to relax. “Shut up,” she groaned, reaching over to smack him with a hand that had been so fragile only minutes ago. After a moment’s reconsideration, she tried a different approach. “Thank you.” 

@onesyllable

He was done. He needed his best friend, and he wasn’t going to care if she was going to curse him or not. Jack was starving, near the point of dying over and over again just because he refused to drink anyone’s blood. And since Gwen’s blood was mostly non-existent at the moment, he didn’t see a problem with being around her.

Which was precisely why he was going to march right through her doors and demand that she leave her cursed room. Chuckling at his little thoughtful pun, the Captain did just that and knocked once before pushing his way in and striding up to her bed.

“Save the ‘leave now or be doomed’ speech for someone who isn’t me or Rhys,” he held up his hand to stop her before she could speak up and protest, even going so far as to raise a brow at her and then smiling.

“You’re getting out of your room today whether you like it or not and I think I know just the way to get you to do it.”

Tilting his head to the side, he analysed her for a moment before using his newly inhuman speed to reach forward and rip the bandages from her mouth and to tear into his wrist to cause a fresh wound.

On a senseless impulse, she tried to send something Jack’s way but found herself stunned and then all but immobilised, snarling; because, although every shift in her covering still hurt, it was much easier to yell with her mouth uncovered. “You mad, bleeding psych-” 

God dammit. That was a double entendre. Another one. The moment she got free, Gwen was going to let Jack see how much she hated him. She had no choice now though, just emitted a dry and distressed gurgling sound and surrendered. 

To Jack’s credit, his ridiculous plan seemed to be working. Gwen’s demeanour changed in an instant. She latched onto his wrist, preparing to fight if he got any ideas about pulling away. The moan she gave was boarderline sensual- all surprise and relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, she sensed a beating heart beneath her chest and a beautiful rush of warmth.