#jackray

Jack walks up next to him, high heels clacking against the concrete roof. Ray doesn’t have to look at her to know that she’s got one hand on her cocked hip, concerned eyes raking over him. Ray knows her well enough that he would bet his Tacky Tacos discount card that her mind is racing, going over all the events of the day; their breakfast together this morning, going to buy ammo with Ryan and Michael, shooting flares at pedestrians as they drove too fast to their meeting point.  The heist.

Ray knows she figures it out when her eyes land on the paper in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Picture.” Ray takes another hit of his joint. “Billy Welson, age 25. Mom and dad own an ice-cream shop in Missouri. Sister’s in college and his brother is in the army. In two months, he would have hit his one year anniversary of being on the force.”

“Cop.” Jack sounds surprised.

“Yep.” Ray draws it out, pops the p. “Shot him this afternoon during the heist.”

“Ah.”

Ray feels the beginning of something like anger ooze through his veins, at how simple Jack made the whole situation sound with that one little word. “Shot him through the lung and he choked on his own blood. Died with his partner standing over him.”

“And it bothers you.” Jack says it with finality, as if she’s head the same scenario a thousand times. She probably has.  

“No.” Ray spits, finally getting fully angry. “I don’t and that’s the problem. I looked at the guy through my scope, basically looked him in the face. And shot him. Killed him. And it doesn’t bother me. Just like everyone else I’ve killed. I don’t feel a fucking thing.” Ray quickly takes another hit, trying to get back into that peaceful place before Jack showed up.

Jack sighs and moves to sit down next to Ray, legs hanging over the side of the building. “Good.” She says.

Ray whips his head to look at her, mouth opened into an angry ‘o’, only to find Jack there, grabbing his joint and sucking in. Her other hand grabs Ray’s face and brings him in, mouth fitting itself against his and blowing in. His ire dies away and his eyes flutter. When he opens them, Jack is staring at him, soft smile on her face. She gives him back his joint and looks out over their city, sunset shinning along the windows. Ray looks down at the cars below, small. The people are even smaller.

“How do you deal with it?” He asks.

“Hm?”

“This. Our business. Fighting other gangs, dealing drugs. Killing people.” Ray looks down at Welson’s picture. “I know how the others deal. Geoff drinks. Gavin throws himself into his work. Michael works it off in the gym and Ryan…well, Ryan is Ryan. He was made for this life. But how can you look yourself in the eye when you stare in the mirror and not wonder how this became your life.”

“Honestly?” Ray eagerly nods, turning his whole body to face her. He’s wondered for a while how Jack can stay so calm when everyone else was thrown into chaos. Jack never seemed fazed, no matter what she was doing and Ray was dying to know so maybe, possibly he himself can learn how to copy it.

 “I don’t think about it.”

Ray snorts. “Alright. Thought we were having a moment there. Guess not.”

Jack shakes her head. “No, really.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s what I do.” She insists.

Ray eyes her. “Seriously?”

“Yep. I just don’t think about it.”

“How? It’s impossible not to think about what you’re doing. We’re criminals, Jack. How can you not?”

Jack hums, looking back at the city. The dying light lights up her hair, red turning flaming for a few seconds. “It’s because every time I start to think about it, when my nightmares start to claw at the back of my mind, I think of you guys. And how, if I didn’t do what I had to do, you might be dead.”

Ray stares at her, silent as she continues. “Last week, that guy whose fingers I cut off? If I hadn’t, he would have sold weapons to our rivals, which might have led Geoff getting shot. I rob banks so we can live the way we want and Michael doesn’t have to go back to what he was doing before he joined us. I join Ryan on hits so I can make sure he doesn’t fall too deep. Shoot anyone that shoots at Gavin or you. And that includes cops.” Jack looks back at him when she says the last part.

Ray frowns. “I care about the crew too.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Like you said, everyone else has a way to deal with their demons. That’s how I deal with mine.” Jack stole the joint from his limp fingers, sneaking a hit.

Ray bit his lip. “But…you don’t think it makes me a monster? The not feeling bad thing.”

“Ray,” Jack breathes out a cloud, eyes closing briefly. “I’m saying embrace that monster. It’ll do you good. Certainly, better than sitting out here, beating yourself up about it.”

Ray sighs, stealing the joint back. He takes a quick hit, breathing out hard. “Yeah, I guess.”

They sit in silence, passing the joint back and forth until the moon hangs high in the sky. Finally, Jack stands, stretching her hands high above her head, back popping. “Gotta go drag Geoff out of the bottle.” She puts her hand on Ray’s shoulders. “If it helps, remember you’re doing this for your family. It’s up to us to protect our crew. If that means becoming something you fear? Well, I’m not going to stop you.”

Ray looks down at the photo in his hand.

Jack squeezes him before turning to walk towards the door. “Try to get some sleep, will you? Don’t want to hear you’re bitching tomorrow about how tired you were because you stayed up playing some obscure video game.” She calls over her shoulder.

“Pokémon isn’t an obscure video game, old woman.” Ray yells back in retort. Jack laughs before the door opens. Then she’s gone.

Ray smiles, enjoying the slight echo of her laugh. The city below him was abuzz with life, even with how late it was. Ray listens to the music of cars honking and people talking, the occasional helicopter flying by all tied together by police sirens in the distance.

The door creaks back open. “If you ever need help forgetting about it, my bed is always open.”

Ray smirks. Climbing to his feet, he crumples the picture in his hand and throws it over the side. Billy Welson fell to the ground below as Ray turns to eagerly follow Jack. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

So going out and getting something for Jack didn’t really seem too out of place. He didn’t really want to buy anything for Geoff, because he didn’t want to seem like a suck-up (Michael and Gavin already had suck-up in the bag). But Jack was a different story.

She was beautiful, for one thing. In the way she walked as though she ruled the world, the way she always seemed to have a backup plan, the way she tried so hard to make Geoff laugh. She was also (honestly) the one in charge. Everyone went to her for heist plans, a shoulder to cry on, a broken weapon, or a slightly less confusing explanation than Ryan would give. So he probably still got brownie points for getting her something. Maybe. Probably.

Regardless, he hoped it would be enough. It was practically all the money from the most recent heist, after all.

He was already wishing he’d gotten something better, or at least taken it to someone who knew how to wrap things. He’d awkwardly tried to wrap paper around a small short thing, and failed miserably. There were about eighteen rips in the wrapping paper, and the whole thing was more scotch tape than present at this point. It was okay when he’d just been giving it to his best friend, but now just looking at it made him cringe.

Jack had smiled at first when he’d produced the item. He hoped it wasn’t out of pity. “What’s this for? You didn’t have to get me anything,” she smiled.

“Just for… being good. To me. And Michael.” Oh god. Next time he tried talking, he’d consider just finding the nearest bridge to jump off of instead.

“Well, you really didn’t need to do this, but…” Jack peeled back the paper, picking the bits of tape off her fingers.

The tears started dripping down her cheeks even as she was just unearthing the handle. Did everyone he buy gifts for have a history of getting this sappy? Then again, Ray wracked his brain for the last time he’d bought something for someone any more substantial than a burger, and couldn’t name a single person besides Michael. Oh right, the gift.

Jack was gazing down, sniffling faintly but unable to form words. A brand-new custom pocketknife sat in the palm of her hand. The handle was made of mother-of-pearl, gold spelling out the letters in pretty cursive “Jack Pattillo.”

As she flipped out the blade, squinting as it caught the light, a set of tiny letters on the base of the blade snapped into focus.

From Ray.

“How much did you pay for this?” Jack asked, immediately reaching for her wallet.

Ray stopped her. “It’s a gift. It wouldn’t be much of a gift if we had to go dutch.”

“But this must’ve been expensive…” Jack traced the blade with one finger before grabbing Ray and holding him close to her.

“Well, it was just a couple games worth, honestly. I’d rather it go to you than my steam addiction,” Ray murmured into her shoulder.

He was lying, and he knew she knew it, but he also hoped that she knew him well enough to give in and accept the gift.

“Thank you,” she exhaled, shoulders trembling.

Ray wished he’d said something profound or even vaguely interesting after he’d given her something she liked.

In reality, she proceeded to kiss his forehead, and his instinct when a beautiful girl kissed him was still to swoon forward like a regency era heroine caught in the rain, in all of those movies he definitely didn’t watch as a pick me up.