To Do and Die (Peregrine X DotCom)

[Peregrine]

For a moment, Jack considered simply not stopping. In the end, though, he came to a halt and turned around. One hand balled into a frustrated fist behind his back. What could Andy possibly want now?

Of course, what he got was the last thing he expected.

For a moment after Andy's words had finished, Jack just stared at him, incredulous. Then a faint guffaw slipped out from between his lips. For just an instant he looked surprised at the noise, before he started laughing harder. He wobbled slightly to the side, caught himself against the wall, before bending over as a couple more laughs slipped out. "What the fuck are you going to do? Just... waltz back in there after the mess you made? Really think that will fly?" The laughter came to an end a few moments later.

"Ow," he said, as he straightened himself back up, one hand wrapped around his stomach to press against his side, the other cradling his head. "Fuck my head hurts. Fuck my everything hurts. Let's blow this joint before fuckface and the five turds realize that they could easily continue beating the shit out of us, and there'd be no one to intervene this time." Jack took a few steps forward, before clapping Andy, rather delicately, on the shoulder. "Thanks for the offer. And... You're welcome."

As they started walking, Jack's eyes drifted up towards the sky. "But, damn, was she pretty."

 

[DotCom]

In his kitchen, in real time, Andy shivered, then laughed a little. Not his kitchen. And present time, sure, but 'real' was a long shot. He set his phone down on the table, facedown, and scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Last he could remember, it was just a little after one AM, but he'd lost track of how long ago his phone screen had darkened, sitting probably half asleep and dozing at the kitchen table.

Lily's kitchen table. Her name in his head turned his tired eyes back down the hall, straining to listen for noise. There was none. Not yet, at least. But then, Lily had always been stronger than he was. He'd known that from the moment he'd met her. He could remember thinking it: first, Dr. Johnson is a girl. Then, Dr. Johnson is a pretty girl. Then, Dr. Johnson is a pretty, tough girl.

Then, as always: I wonder what Jack would say. Would have said, as it were.

That probably should have been his first indication, or his first recent one, at least. That, even as he smiled bashfully at Lily, even as he felt his face grow warm, which had been a big deal then, he'd been thinking of Jack, hearing his best friend's voice in his head: She looks like she'd chew you up and spit you out, Andy. Which means you should probably go for it.

He had. Because Lily was cute and sweet and a welcome distraction from...everything. She'd made him forget, as well as he could forget, that Jack was gone most days. That all his friends were gone. That he'd sat there, screaming, feeling their blood cool and dry on his skin. He had gone after Lily, because he'd liked her. And because Jack had told him to. And as much as he'd hated Jack bossing him around...he also trusted Jack implicitly. Immediately. Unconditionally.

"Fuck," Andy breathed out, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin. It was cold. He should be in bed. Even if they didn't make it back to the city tomorrow, things with Jack were...over and done. He had to work with it, even if he couldn't accept it yet. He had done as he'd promised, finally. Shared the files, started to make Jack whole again, maybe. Somehow. He wondered how much it mattered.

He wondered if Jack had ever suspected.

"Fuck," he said again, half terror, half delight. So, now what? Jack had been furious at him for not getting it right, for trying to drag him back into the light when he was content to be dead. Well, Jack had spent most of boot camp and half the war furious with Andy. The rest of it had been spent saving his life. And if you were going to tell someone you loved them, well...maybe you started by returning the favor.

Andy stood so fast he nearly knocked his chair over, suddenly determined to do something, even if he didn't know what yet. But he had the information he needed. Hell, half the world would by now. And even if Jack had done away with his...progenitors, nothing had been done on US soil -- yet -- to stop things from happening again. Nothing real, at least. Andy had sent the files, but Andy was not a big picture thinker. He wanted to do something that mattered. He wanted to do something with his hands.

He wanted...Christ, he wanted Jack back to normal. He wanted Jack back, period. What he would say when that moment came, he wasn't entirely sure. But he could cross that bridge when it came.

For now, he could think of only one link between himself and the people who had hurt his friend. And Jack would undoubtedly crucify him for it. But Jack didn't have to be the only one saving lives.

"Dude, if you can hear me..." he started, "please just...watch out for her. This is my fault. You know that. Don't let her take any more heat. Please."

Then he grabbed Lily's keys off the counter and sneaked out the door as quietly as he could manage.

 

[Peregrine]

Jack noticed when Andy left the house, but he did not give it more than the cursory thought it deserved. Andy's choices did not matter anymore. He had done what was needed. Now it was time to start taking the next steps forward. Jack would remove anyone who knew about what had happened to him, to make sure that nothing like it would ever be attempted again. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on what perspective you looked at it, that would include Altman. Jack had never bothered with the man before this point, because he knew that Altman didn't know anything. That was his policy. He took whatever jobs he was given, as long as the money was good enough, and never, ever asked questions.

But Altman knew about him, and it was possible that he may have finally broken his own golden rule. After all, how many men had he now lost to this thing? Jack couldn't take that risk. It was time for Jack to go pay a visit to his old employer, and finally pay off his debt.

It should not have surprised Jack that Altman would have moved his base at this point. But it was somewhat annoying. Now he was going to have to take the time to track him down. He reminded himself that it didn't matter anymore. The boulder had finally started rolling down the hill, and nothing was going to stop it now.

 

[DotCom]

Andy -- because he was 'using his fucking head now', as Jack might have said -- knew from the moment Karl Evans agreed to let Andy into his home at three in the morning that something was up. He just didn't know what. But that was okay. Whatever it was, it had to lead to Altman somehow. From there, Andy was sure he'd be able to find whoever had paid the guy to kill him. And from there...well. Andy would cross the bridge when it came.

For now, he sat at his boss's kitchen table, watching Karl pace back and forth, the way he'd done in board meetings when he was right on the edge of a new marketing strategy or whatever the fuck. He was clearly nervous, which made Andy nervous, but also excited. There was a heady buzzing at the back of his skull, that same breathless, terrified excitement he remembered from before. It made his palms itch and sweat, made his heart pound painfully against the inside of his ribs. But he didn't panic. He just sat and watched and waited and tried to keep Jack from noticing. He had no idea where Jack was, if Jack was. But Jack had a way of turning up when Andy got in over his head, ever since they were kids.

And this time, Andy was determined to be the one doing the rescuing. If that meant crazy, Rambo-level justice...well, then, alright. Andy had never been one to turn to violence for an answer. But Jack...Jack was forever getting Andy to do stupid shit, whether he realized it or not.

"Andy!" Karl yelped suddenly, then his face paled a little, and he shot a glance down a darkened hallway for the tenth time in as many minutes. To where, Andy assumed, his wife or kids, or both slept. Nobody got involved with the kind of person Altman sounded like unless they were stupid or desperate. And Karl Evans was not stupid.

"Andy," said Karl, a little more gently, offering a smile that in no way reached his eyes. "You doing alright? More tea?" Andy shook his head and gestured to the steaming mug he had very carefully not so much as sipped. He had to be ready when he found Altman.

"Sure, sure, right," chuckled Karl. "Of course. But you're doing okay? When you didn't show up -- "

"Uh, right," Andy started, having expected this fifteen minutes ago, or even a week ago when he hadn't reported to work the first time. "About that -- "

"Don't worry about it, Andy. You -- you're a good worker, and a good kid, and...and...Christ, I'm sorry about this, Krueger, but I got fucking kids, man -- "

"Sorry about what?" Andy started, but before Karl could answer, headlights through shadows on the kitchen wall and they heard gravel crunching outside. A car door slammed. Andy felt himself tense, go into battle mode. Behind him, he heard Karl swear again.

"Fuck. I'm sorry, Andy. I'm sorry. I -- I have to go -- " Andy saw the man flee down the hall from the corner of his eye even as Andy himself moved toward the door. He was he realized, preparing for violence. He'd rather it not go down in a civilian household.

Exhaling, Andy stood, the mug still in his hands, and stepped out the front door and onto the porch as a thin man crawled out of a car with dark windows.

"Andy Krueger," said a voice that turned his blood to fire and ice at the same time. "I've been looking for you."

 

[Peregrine]

"Here's a funny story," came a voice from the shadows of the porch. A very familiar voice. "But I've been looking for you, too."

In an instant every gun, hidden or otherwise, that had been leveled at Andy was suddenly pointed at Jack, as he stepped out from the shadow of the porch overhang. Only Altman seemed to remain calm. He certainly was a master at that veneer.

"Jack," Altman said, amicably. "What a surprise to see you here. I thought you were dead."

"No you didn't."

"No. I didn't."

Altman had always been a master of using words to get what he wanted. Sometimes it was a confession. Sometimes it was a bargain. Sometimes, though, it was just getting someone to hold still long enough for a trap to be sprung. Therefore, it didn't surprise Jack in the least when two men on either side of the porch threw themselves forward, one for Jack and one for Andy. The man who came for Jack never stood a chance. He didn't even flinch, just flung his arm out to the side, crashing violently into the man's skull. He collapsed to the ground, immediately unconscious, and would be remaining that way for quite some time. Altman didn't seem even the least bit surprised by that turn of events.

What did seem to surprise him, though, was how long Andy held out. Among all the reports of PTSD and his running away, Altman had clearly forgotten that Andy had completed training as a marine, and then served for well on five years. Andy wasn't unprepared, and when he came, Andy managed to rebuff his attack. Mostly. But even if Andy was a soldier, he was facing off against a professional murderer. A professional murderer working with partners. All it took was the man tripping Andy up, sending him tumbling down the porch stairs, and the men who had traveled in the car with Altman lunged forward and dragging him, kicking and struggling, to Altman.

Altman, in turn, casually pulled a gun from his pocket and leveled it at Andy's head. "Now, that has been quite enough of this game, Jack. Come along quietly, or this man will take a bullet to the head."

"I can't imagine your clients would be all too thrilled with that."

"Clients are just clients," Altman replied levelly. "You, on the other hand, are dangerous."

Jack shrugged, not moving. "Go ahead and shoot him."
Altman sighed slightly, shaking his head. "I know you are bluffing, Jack. Because, you see, I figured out who you were. Jack Coulson, former soldier of the US Marines. I have no idea how you ended up stranded overseas, or why you turned to a life of crime, but I do know you are the one who took out all my men. After all, you used the gun the first time. I really am curious what you did with the rest of them, though. We'll have to talk about that. But, right now, get down here before I lose my patience."

"You say I'm bluffing, but I think you are as well. Moment he is out of the way, there's nothing standing between me and you."

"Nothing?" Altman laughed. "Oh, Jack. I thought you knew me better than that." Altman lifted a hand, and five laser pointers settled on his chest. For an instant they held perfectly still, before one of them wobbled slightly. It came still immediately, but a moment later another one wobbled. Altman frowned slightly, and it was obvious his snipers would be getting a talking-to later. Or, at least, so he thought.

They stood in silence for another moment. The last laser wobbled for a moment. Jack shrugged, before starting to walk down the stairs. "You know something interesting, Levi?"

Altman frowned again, fiercer this time, but he knew what was happening. Or at least thought he did. Jack was trying to save a little bit of face. "What?"

"You aren't the only one who's good at talking to stall people." In an instant Jack turned, striking a fierce blow to the nearest guard. He crumpled immediately. Altman's hand snapped closed, obviously the signal to the snipers, but nothing happened. He let out a high pitched yell of frustration, and there was the sound of a cracking gun. He released Andy, only to suddenly notice that there was no blood. No bone, no scattered brain tissue from a large caliber bullet ripping its way through his skull at point blank range. Just a small tear in his scalp that was already healing closed.

Altman scrambled backwards, tripping over his own feet and making a small noise that was utterly unsuited to his reputation as the fiercest man in the criminal underworld. He kicked at the ground, shoving himself further away from Andy, even as the gun leveled in his hand.

"See," Jack said with a smile. "I told you I don't care." Everywhere around the front of the house, Altman's men began to dissolve. Most of them were unconscious, and did not even have the chance to notice their fate. But the couple who were still conscious suddenly found themselves unable to even make a sound. "I was going to keep this subtle," Jack continued, "But frankly, fuck that. Everyone here was going to die anyways, and I'd rather get this over with quickly."

Altman's shaking hand pointed the gun in Jack's direction, and he fired the gun, pulling the trigger again and again until it simply started clicking. Jack's step didn't even falter as bullet after bullet hit him. Even the holes in his clothes silently repaired themselves after each shot. Altman dropped the gun, turning over and desperately pushing himself to his feet, obviously intending to try and run. But in a sudden burst of inhuman speed, Jack caught him by the shoulder. "Nothing personal," Jack said, still infuriatingly calm. "I just need to know how much they told you." His other hand grabbed Altman by the jaw, before seeming to shiver slightly, as his fingertips burrowed into cuts that had suddenly appeared underneath his fingers.

There was a silent, tense moment as Altman's body bucked in Jack's grasp. Finally, with a sigh, Jack dropped him. "More than they should have, less than they could have. I was right to come after you," Jack said. "You really would have done better to actually heed their warnings, you know that?" Jack turned away, and Altman's body started to dissolve. Within a couple moments, it had vanished into the grass.

 

[DotCom]

From the time Andy stepped out on the porch until Altman's body had vanished completely, Andy didn't look away from the other man. Couldn't. Not when he felt, rather than saw, half a dozen pistols aimed at his chest. Not when he felt his heart begin to race, his vision begin to blur, his inner monologue begin to scream at him not to panic, not now. Not when Jack emerged from the shadows, evoking a singular feeling of fear, annoyance, and gratitude in Andy. Briefly when a man to his right sprung from the darkness, and even then, he could hardly count it, it was over so quickly. Andy acted without thinking, and it wasn't enough. As per usual.

And then it was just him and Altman, a twig of a man who made even Andy look intimidating by comparison. This man he didn't know who had been trying to kill him for two weeks because Andy had made a stupid mistake, a series of stupid mistakes reaching back as far as he decision to join the Army or follow Jack back to base on that night after the bar. He stared with a mixture of curiosity, revulsion, and outright terror, because whatever else this man was, he had a gun leveled at Andy's head, and that was hard to forget.

He thought of Lily then, thought of what she would say, how she would ground him in the moment. He hoped she was alright. He wondered if it would be better or worse for her to wake up to his death being a reality.

But he didn't die. Of course he didn't, not with Jack there, he couldn't, had never been able to, even before Jack had changed. And in the last two weeks, Andy had been shot and shot at and stabbed and had not five hours ago disemboweled himself, and now here he was, staring down at Altman as the man who had tried to kill him looked up at him in utter terror.

Andy was torn between wanting to kick Altman in the face and wanting to help him to his feet.

He never got the chance. All around him, Jack was changing again, dying again, and Andy...well. So much for having tried to even the score. He was shaking now, shaking badly, and he couldn't stop, and if he didn't sit soon, he was going to pass out, and he wasn't fucking going to do that in front of Jack.

"H-had to do something," Andy muttered sullenly, leaning back against the hood of Altman's car as he felt his legs give. "W-where...w-w-what -- I m-mean, how -- ?"

Exhaling shakily, Andy shut his eyes and clenched his shaking hands into fists until they stopped shaking. It took a minute.

"Jesus, Jack," he murmured, feeling both exhausted and wired at the same time. And he hadn't even done anything. Which had been the whole point of coming out here! He was suddenly frustrated. Jack was forever harping on Andy's ability to get himself into sticky situations without ever giving him the chance to get out of them again. Sort of. That much hadn't changed.

Some part of him felt impossibly relieved, and then nostalgic, and then almost giddy.

He opened his eyes and scrubbed his hands across his face and looked at his old friend.

"Are you going to get pissed again if I ask if you're alright?" he said wryly. "Are you alright?"

 

[Peregrine]

"I'm fine, Andy," Jack replied, blandly, almost distractedly. He hadn't really expected for Altman to know anything about who was behind all this, but it had been a lead worth checking out. Now he knew, and Altman wasn't around anymore with information about Jack in his head. What was more, he'd gotten a number to go along with the client. It wasn't much of a lead, but it was a start. These people were too cautious to come after Andy directly. Most likely they'd just go hire someone else, and that person wouldn't lead Jack any closer either. He'd have to take matters into his own hands.

"I don't know how you always managed to get yourself into these situations, but I guess I should expect it by now. Sorry for interrupting whatever plan you had to go along with this, but I had some personal business to take care of with Altman, and I wasn't willing to let it wait." Jack turned to go, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Try and take care of yourself, okay, Krueger? I'll keep you alive if it comes down to it, but do your best anyways."

 

[DotCom]

Andy, head buried in his hands somewhere between fatigue and relief, snorted. "I thought you always said my best was -- wait. Wait, where are you going?"

His head snapped up, the fatigue and relief and annoyance gone in a flash, suddenly replaced with panic that bordered on one of his triggers. That's what it felt like, anyway. Like he'd been punched in the gut or dropped down an elevator shaft at the same time. All at once, he was watching Jack die again, watching Jack fade from existence with hateful words echoing for anyone and no one to hear.

"Wait!" Andy said again, trying to sound rational and commanding, instead of just freaked. He got to his feet and took two careful steps after Jack before making himself stop. Calm. He was calm.

"Jack. Where are you going? I thought -- those files. There out there now, they're everywhere. And...and Altman's gone. So, what else? What next? You can't just...leave again."

It wasn't working. He sounded desperate and afraid and while he didn't really care much about that, he couldn't risk pushing Jack away again. There was nothing -- almost nothing -- to keep him from disappearing for good this time.

"There's more, right?" he added. He still hadn't moved, except to curl one hand into a fist, like if he exerted all his focus and panic and outright terror there, maybe he'd be able to keep a lid on things long enough to explain to Jack why he couldn't go. "This isn't...this isn't all you had planned? There's more? Let me help. You're supposed to be...fucking...dead, right? S-so, play your cards close to your chest. Let me help. I can help you, Jack. I know I fucked up before, but I can make it up to you now, I swear. You don't have to do this alone. You...you're not alone, Jack. Please."

 

[Peregrine]

Jack paused. There was sympathy on his face as he glanced back, but it was as distant as his words had been only moments before.

"You are a good kid, Andy, but you've always been a step behind. For a long time, I thought if I let you get your ass into enough situations, and then pulled you out of them at the last possible moment, you'd start to figure it out. And eventually you would. But by then we would have moved forward, and you'd still be a step behind. And I kept waiting for you to figure it out." Jack sighed slightly, turning around more fully. His words seemed unrelated to Andy's plea, at least for a moment. But then they all tied together.

"But now you are so far behind that you think you are in front. You think you understand, and therefore can't understand that you don't get it. You don't get any of it.

"I don't blame you for not getting it anymore, Andy. It used to make me so mad, but now I understand that it isn't your fault. But that doesn't change the fact that you really just don't get it. And you never will."

 

[DotCom]

For a moment, Andy just stared, trying to ignore the kicked puppy feeling he knew was going to show on his face. It was a little easier now, because he'd thought Jack would be angry with him, like he always was. And he wasn't. And that scared Andy for reasons he didn't want to think about. Only now the fear felt like anger.

"Fucking hell, Jack, quit talking in circles and just tell me what you mean!" he exploded finally. He was vaguely aware that the house behind them was not empty, that in fact there was a man inside waiting with his family, a man he had worked for who had since sentenced him to death. He couldn't bring himself to care. He could only see Jack going away again, and he couldn't see that. Not without doing something drastic first.

"I'm not a fucking toddler, Jack, despite what you love to think. I was there, too, alright. Jesus, you sound just like the others when you talk like that, 'Andy's always in trouble', 'Andy's down again', 'Andy can't cross a fucking street without a hand to hold', but you forget I was there, too. I made it there, just like all of you, and I...I made it back." The anger went out of him suddenly as he realized what he was saying. He wanted to stop talking, should definitely stop talking, because as much as he cared for Jack, there were things he could never tell the other man. Things he was certain Jack wouldn't understand.

"I wasn't supposed to. I know that now. Not alone, at least, not me. They all -- fuck, Jack, we all thought it'd be you. The war hero, the sole survivor. It was supposed to be you. And I was okay with that. I still am. But now you're here, and you're different, and maybe I can't fix that, but it doesn't mean you have to be alone."

His fists hung empty at his sides now, grasping for God only knew what. Andy dropped his head and shut his eyes, sure that he was going to fall over if he didn't. Maybe it would be best if he did. There was no way in hell he'd be able to convince himself this was a dream at this point, but it had to be better than the alternative.

"You keep saying I don't understand," he said quietly. "And you're probably right. I don't...I don't know what you went through, Jack, what you're going through. I read the files, but I could never..." He trailed off, tried again. "But it doesn't have to be that way. You could help me understand. Make me understand, Jack. You did it all through boot camp and the whole fucking war. You're resilient as hell and at least half as stubborn as I am, so I know if anyone could do it, it's you, Jack. Make me understand. Fucking...tell me what you need from me, and I will do it. Get it. Whatever it is, it's yours. It's done. Okay? Help me understand. And if you can't, and I can't...well, fuck, then I guess you're better off on you're own. I won't like it, but at least I can say I tried. And I go back to Lily, and you go back to...to being dead, and we make it work.

"But we have to try first. Please, Jack. Just...talk to me. Just don't go."

 

[Peregrine]

Jack's head bent forward, as he kneaded his temples between his thumbs. "Andy, that's just it. This isn't something I can just tell you, its..." Off in another corner of the city, another Jack appeared, who got to work on setting the plan in motion. Phone number in hand, he began to look for a payphone, to make the first call in the process. There was no reason for him to not try and explain this to Andy. It wasn't as though it would be a distraction, and no part of him could ever really waste time. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, before dropping his hand. "Give me a moment. I need to think of a way to phrase this that you'll actually be able to understand."

For a moment, Jack was silent. Finally, he seemed to have gotten as solid of a grasp of the situation as he could. "Come on, Andy. Let's take a walk. Leave those poor, cowering people inside the house alone now. I'll take care of the cars." He turned and started walking away, giving Andy no choice in the matter. It was either follow or be left behind. Before they had made it to the end of the block, both car's rumbled to life. Headlights turned on, and they began to drive away. There was a person in each driver's seat. Neither of them looked like Jack.

"The reason I can't tell you is because what I am, what I can do, is something that is utterly incomprehensible to the human mind. I do not say that out of an attempt to be derogatory, or imply that you are too stupid to understand. It is a simple statement of fact. The human mind could not comprehend it. For that reason, there are no words to describe it.

"The only way I could get you to even begin to understand the smallest piece of it is to actually show you. Not like I've done before, just trying to demonstrate what I'm capable of. I would have to take you inside myself, completely and fully, and make you aware of pieces of it. Just pieces.

"Even if I somehow managed to get it just right, show you just enough that you can grasp how much you are missing with a human mind, without you going mad, there is no telling whether or not you'd still be you when I brought you back out. Because, instead of you just having pieces of me inside of you, sitting there and quietly waiting until they are needed, you would then be made of me. Even if all the wiring was exactly the same, down to the last molecule within each cell, it could still be me. I might still be aware of the rest of me, even while I was you. If that were the case... And here words begin to fail again. You would still be you. Independent. Able to act on free will. But at the exact same time as you would be independent, you would also be a part of the whole. Separate but together. Different but the same. You but also me.

"And when I say me, please understand, I don't mean Jack. Jack is Jack, but is also me. Altman is Altman, but is also now... me."

Finally he came to a stop, turning to actually look at Andy for the first time. "It's not worth it, Andy. Please, it's not worth it for you to try and understand."

 

[DotCom]

"Fuck that," Andy said wretchedly. He had been quiet until then, out of respect or fear or concern. But he could feel Jack trying to brush him off again, even unintentionally, and he wasn't about to stand for it.

"You can't fucking tell me what it is and isn't worth it for me to know, Jack," he went on, feeling hollow. Jack's words had shaken him. Not the explanation so much as the monotone delivery. He yanked down the sleeves of his sweatshirt to cover the goosebumps on his skin, folded his arms around his stomach as if that would keep the gaping hole he felt growing there from swallowing himself. Jack was right. He didn't, hadn't understood. That had been clear as soon as Jack started speaking. Individually, the words made sense, and even together, they held up loosely in a strangely abstract sort of way. But that was fine. Andy had spent most of his time growing up -- and nearly all of it after coming back -- in his own head. He could deal with abstract. That wasn't what bothered him.

What bothered him, what made his start to shake and then stop again when hopelessness replaced the fear...what bothered him was the way Jack talked about himself. Like he wasn't alive anymore. Like he wasn't...human. And...maybe he wasn't. It was strange and frightening, and far too abstract for even Andy to comprehend. But he could deal with that, too. Andy had spent years jumping in before he fully understood things. He lived his life on perpeturally unstable ground. He didn't need to understand Jack to care about him, to...to...

But Jack spoke about himself like he wasn't a person anymore and didn't plan to be. It made Andy's skin crawl. Because if that's what he thought, he wouldn't even resist Andy, he would just...disappear. Like before.

Suddenly, there was panic again, cold and paralyzing this time. Like it slowed his heart rate instead of pushing it faster.

He had to make Jack find himself -- his humanity -- again, or there would be no recovering from whatever he thought he was now.

"You -- you said you need me to understand," Andy made himself say. "So fucking make me understand, Jack. I know you can do it. Show me, if you have to. Draw a goddamn picture, make a movie, whatever you have to do. If you need me to understand to make you...you again, then do it." They were stood still now, and Andy had been speaking to Jack's shoulder, unable to look his friend in the eye. Now he lifted his gaze, scared shitless, but determined. He'd been scared since he came back form the war.

He could deal with fear. He couldn't -- wouldn't -- deal with losing Jack again.

"You...you can make me...like you. Can't you? Like you did with Altman? With all the others? Would that help? If my brain wasn't...wasn't human anymore, could I understand then? Would you fucking let me help then, Jack? Because if that's what it takes, I want you to do it. I'm tired of sitting on the sidelines. I want to do something. I want to help. This is the first concrete answer you've given me since this thing started, so if you think you can back out because it requires a little complex algebra, you can fuck off. Show me what you are, Jack. I know you can."

 

[Peregrine]

For a moment he was scared. No, that wasn't quite right. Jack was scared. That persona which was his grounding right now, it was scared. Scared of what this would do to Andy. Scared of not being able to get him back out, to pull him out at the last possible moment had hope he had learned something from it. But Jack's concerns didn't matter. If it failed, than Andy would finally be able to get exactly what he wanted. He would be able to help. After a fashion, of course, but it would still be aid. Jack was overruled.

"Fine, Andy. If you are so sure that's what you want, I'll oblige you."

He didn't give Andy a chance to change his mind. Didn't even give Andy a chance to realize what was happening. The parts of Jack that rested inside of him came alive in that instant, and utterly consumed Andy. Jack brought him in, so that he could understand. After all, he was now a part of it. It would be impossible for him not to understand.

It was a hundred thousand million billion trillion pieces, except less, except more. Each piece was utterly unique, and able to act completely independently, except each piece was also tied into an incomprehensible whole, a self that defied the very nature of existence yet undeniably was. Each piece was awake but also asleep, unified to a single purpose, yet also separate. Tied but free. Yet within that freedom there was no rebellion, for at the same time that they were apart, they were also together. Many but one, inextricably bound. For at the same time that each piece was a piece of the whole, each piece could also be a whole, and have pieces of itself, which were independent but together. But it was more than just fragments of thought and identity, for each piece was grounded into the real world. It could split away if needed, and then grow itself. Each piece, and the pieces of pieces, and the pieces of pieces of pieces, could take whatever shape it pleased, move as it pleased, do whatever it pleased to both itself and others.

And floating among all of that were concepts. Abstracts that had been concrete, the incomprehensible which had been understood. The nature of death, of identity and personality, and more, which waited, just around the edge, for the right trigger to bring them into full comprehension.

And then there was Jack. A veneer that occupied the whole, the whole of all the wholes. A set of ticks and personalities that had been carefully defined, and which reigned dominant over it all for now. For now, until he let go of his stubborn clinging to his own identity. When that finally happened, then there would just be the whole. The absolute.

Among all of that, Andy became. A piece of the whole, a whole of the piece. Every part, every shade, every aspect, brought in, completely understood and accepted, exactly as it was. There never had been before, and never would be again, such complete belonging.

And with that understanding came the love. Andy's utterly incomprehensible, complete, undying, devoted love for Jack. So obvious, yet so hidden at the same time. Something that they had both always known, yet never fully understood until that moment. And, for one moment, all the pieces and the whole wept for the understanding of it, and it's beauty. And then wept in sorrow, for the understanding that the Andy that had loved and the Jack that had been loved were gone, for they were themselves but no longer themselves. Unique but still inevitably part of the whole.

Inevitably? No, perhaps not. For the whole was the whole, but the pieces were still pieces. And in one corner stood death, but in the opposite corner stood life. The whole would always be the whole, there was no way around that. But the pieces were just pieces. And the whole resolved to find a way to extract the pieces, to make them not pieces of the whole, but separate truths, as once they had been before. As had been the plan for Andy. But if one, then two.

But first, the purpose demanded completion.

Together, offered a piece.

Separate, the whole replied. For first there had to be a knowledge of life, a guarantee that it was true, before the purpose was completed. Once the purpose was completed, there would be no need for an identity. It had to happen at the same time, and if there was no knowledge of life, then it would all be lost. Jack could not be the first to go, for Jack held the purpose. It would have to be Andy. So it was, accepted with sorrow for what it would mean to the individual that would soon be Andy. But it was offered with half a promise, that would stick around even after the knowledge of the whole was lost. Jack would follow soon.

For a moment there was utter separation. And then there was just Andy.

"Soon," promised the piece of the whole that currently occupied the body that looked like Jack, with a soft smile that promised fulfillment. "Just a little bit longer."

 

[DotCom]

It took him twice as long as it had getting from city to cabin as it had cabin to city, or at least that's what it felt like. It was well past dawn by the time the car -- he tried not to think of its interim driver, or anything to close to Jack just now -- rolled into Lily's driveway, and Andy wasn't surprised to see her there, pacing in his borrowed t-shirt and bare legs. It was the same one he'd put her into last night. He wondered briefly if she remembered, almost hoped he did, even though he was so tired, he wanted to do nothing but sleep for a year.

But it was clear from the moment he stepped out of the car with a goofy, apologetic smile, that Jack had done exactly as he'd promised. Lily remembered nothing of last night, except maybe dinner and the movies. Some part of that hurt, in a resounding throb somewhere deep inside of him, or what had been him, some part of him that didn't exist as he knew it anymore.

Mostly, he just felt relief.

"Hey, Lil," he greeted wearily.

He watched gratefully as the tension flooded out of her shoulders, even as she became Doctor Johnson all over again. Had he always been able to see that change so clearly?

"Drew?" she said, her voice still just a little too high, too tense. He'd scared her, and he felt bad. But it was too much energy to worry about now. "Drew, where have you been, I called your office, the hospital, the fucking sheriff's department, I thought you'd -- "

He held up both hands in a gesture of supplication and crossed the porch to her, still smiling, still exhausted. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm alright." He wanted to kiss her, he realized abruptly. To calm her, and himself, and to test a theory he didn't need tested. He cared for Lily, loved her even. But his feelings for her would never come close to what he had felt -- what he did feel -- for Jack. Especially now.

He felt a familiar and inexplicable grief and longing rise suddenly in him, vying for place beside an equally enigmatic joy and relief. He wavered on hit feet. Lily frowned at him.

"Are you sure?" she said uncertainly.

And Andy broke. Shattered into countless pieces and knew exactly how it felt, and just how wrong he was at the same time.

Lily caught him before he could hit the ground, and his weight in her arms dragged them both down to the porch. He was still scaring her. He could feel that. He just couldn't bring himself to stop. The sadness was insurmountable, too vast to comprehend, too endless to really name. Because of course it wasn't just sadness, but anger and grief and vengeance and fear and compassion and understanding and relief and anticipation. It was a hundred different things and each of them was the same, all felt individually and struggling to be felt at the same time. It was exhausting. It was exhilarating. He let himself be both, and he held on to Jack's promise.

Soon. Soon.

"It's alright, Lil," he sobbed breathlessly. "I promise, I'm alright. I will be. I'll be okay now. I promise."

 

[Peregrine]

Finishing up was so simple, so superficially easy. It didn't grant any satisfaction, not really. Not the kind of satisfaction finishing a "purpose" should.

But it hadn't been about the purpose. Not for a long time now. The purpose was a front, a stupid veneer that demanded to be finished, but truly did not otherwise matter. Far, far better to just get it done, so that Jack could be released, to live his life with someone who loved him, and someone he could not help but love. Had loved. Would always love.

In the end, all it had taken was for "Altman" to finally catch "Andy". When that happened "Jack" surrendered. And the client came to get them both. Only to learn that no one he had expected to be there was there, and what waited was simple fate. He was taken in, and then it was just a matter of following the connections. Someone always knew who else knew. There was no other way for it to work. Those who had been behind it, who might conceive of the idea again should they be left to it, were permanently brought into the whole. Those who had known, had not stopped it, but had not condoned it, were taken in like Lily. Taken in briefly, so that a piece of their memory could be changed, and they could be left to live on their lives.

And then it was over. Just like that. The purpose was completed. The research was removed. Nothing like this would happen again. And, as one final, strange piece of mercy, Altman was returned to the world, left in front of a hospital with no trace of his memories, and the tiny piece of his brain that had made him such a horrible man rewired. A life for a life. All of Jack's debts, good and ill, had been paid. He released his right to that control, that impossible identity. And the whole released him.

It had been several days since Andy and returned to the cabin. He and Lily had finished their vacation, and Andy had returned home. It was late in the afternoon when there came an unexpected sound in the kitchen, the sound of something heavy collapsing to the tiled floor. There was a look of confusion on Jack's face, one of utter desperation and incomprehensible loss. For one moment he was utterly and completely alone.

And then Andy was there. For one moment Jack looked at him, and then he was crying, bawling in a cathartic release like he hadn't since he was a young child. He clung desperately to Andy, to his last link to something he could no longer quite remember, and cried like a baby for the loss of it. For the freedom from it.

 

[DotCom]

---

As it turned out, Andy was much better at compassion than he was at understanding. And his people-pleasing tendencies, when tempered somewhat by time and practice and self-control, were not nearly so useless as he'd once thought, especially once he stopped seeing Lily -- though he kept seeing Doc for some time, even after Jack came back. For both their sakes. He'd never told her who Jack was. He'd never really felt the need. Lily was happy he was happy, finally recovering in leaps and bounds, so when he suggested he couldn't go back to his job at CERT, she suggested he try occupational therapy. And he loved it.

Jack made that easier, too.

It wasn't perfect, not by a long shot. Andy still called Jack on occasion, when he found himself frozen, undone by the sound of a car backfiring. And he still sometimes returned to the cabin they rented on the edge of the forest nearest town to find Jack lost in thought. He still had to keep himself from smothering Jack then. They still fought. That, Andy suspected, would never change. But then, he'd never have it any other way.

It had been Lily's new beau, Tyler, to find them the cabin three months after Jack returned. it had been Andy -- of course it had been Andy -- to come back from a jog one night, shivering and soaked to the skin with a half dead scrap of fur that still woke Jack with all eighteen pounds of tabby sitting firmly on the former soldier's forehead. They had done Thanksgiving with Andy's sister, and Christmas in the woods, and New Years in New York, just because. It was nearing Independence Day now, the first they'd ever spent together outside of bootcamp and outside of the war, and when Andy had insisted on a BBQ, Jack had argued, because of course he had.

And now Andy was grumbling under his breath, stalking the short aisles of the local grocery mart, still far enough from the city that he was more than comfortable going by himself to pick up frozen burgers and charcoal. And dog food for the stray he'd brought home two weeks prior.

"Drew? Er -- Andy. Hi. What're you doing here?"

Andy, calm, if annoyed, looked up and smiled as genuinely as he ever had at Lily. "Probably the same thing you are," he offered, holding up a shopping list that was half Garfield comic strip, half unintelligible chicken scratch. "Last minute barbecue shopping. Uh -- you guys were bringing sides, right?"

"Ty's grabbing potato salad now. Jack?"

Andy rolled his eyes. "Brooding, as usual," he muttered. "Hopefully brooding over some goddamn chicken wings, or we're all gonna be hungry for a while. Asshole," he added, and Lily stifled a smile, because it was impossibly clear to see Andy didn't mean a single word of it.

"I'm sure we'll manage. But if you need to get back, I can pick up the burgers. We still need to stop for gas, so you guys have some time."

"Uh...yeah, sure, okay. Thanks, Lil. I'll get back." A year out, and Andy still got a little nervous, leaving Jack. He trusted the other man with his life and more. But he still hadn't quite forgotten what it was like to be alone.

Lily watched as Andy left, completely and utterly distracted at the idea of getting back to his...roommate. She was as used to the moniker as she was to seeing traces of who Drew -- Andy -- had been when he'd first returned from the war. Still skittish, if in a much more toned down way. Still fiercely dependent on this 'roommate', similar to the way she had been on him when they were together. He had never given his relationship with Jack a label, and she had never asked. It didn't much matter to her. Andy was very clearly in love, and more than that, he was happy now, and stable.

It was the very most she could have ever hoped for.

 

[Peregrine]

When the car pulled up the driveway from around the bend, Andy found Jack looming over a flaming grill. He was studying the sauce-soaked wings with an intensity that seemed more likely to light it on fire than the actual coals below it. However, he glanced up at the sound of the car, and his face softened slightly.

It, of course, immediately darkened again when Andy came over without a bag of food. "Where are the burgers? These wings are going to be done any minute, and I... You know what, never mind. Get your ass inside and start buttering the corn."

Lily and Tyler showed up not much later, hamburgers, potato salad, and several bottles of soda in hand. Jack immediately set to work on the burger, muttering the whole time about wasting propane. However, when Andy came out from the house with the plate of corn, his face once more softened briefly. That was, of course until: "Don't drop it! Idiot."

The barbecue was soon well underway. Tyler pulled out a small bottle of cheap rum to spike the cola while Lily was inside the house getting the potatoes into a proper bowl. On her way back out, a ball of brown mutt threw himself at her legs, racing out into the yard with a chorus of enthusiastic barking. "Grizzly," Jack scolded. The pup stilled for a moment, before exploding into enthusiastic motion a moment later. "Goddamit, Grizz, no! Sit," The pup sat for a moment, and Jack tossed him a small piece of hamburger a moment later. "Good boy. Now, go play over there." Jack pointed away towards the treeline, and Grizzly went to go sniff at some bushes.

The first burgers were finished, and the second set was slowly cooking away over the coals, when Grizzly suddenly turned from the stick he had been chewing to race at the driveway, barking ferociously. "Grizzley, what the fuck," Jack muttered, turning to go race after the dog, all the while ordering him to come. A moment later a stranger came into sight. Grizzly jumped on his legs, yelping, and, after he got over his surprise, the stranger bent down to pet him.

He straightened a moment later. "Hey, man," he said, somewhat awkwardly. "I'm Armond. Sorry for intruding. I think my gas gage must be broken, because it says I've still got a quarter of a tank, but my car's stalled out at the bottom of your driveway and won't start again. Any chance I could bum some gas off you?"

There was something about this stranger that set Jack, normally rather distrustful of strangers, immediately at ease. He grinned slightly, rather surprised by his action. "Sure. I'll go grab a siphon. Will half a gallon be enough to get you back to town?"

"I'm sure," Armand agreed, with a nod.

"Good. Andy, grab him a burger for him, wouldn't you? We've got way too many anyways."

 

[DotCom]

"Told you," muttered Andy, even as he went to do exactly as Jack asked. He grabbed a plate, throwing a grin over his shoulder to the newcomer. "Hi!" he said brightly, piling the paper dish his with corn and potato salad. "Burger, yeah? Medium, well done, or burnt to shit?" he asked. "Wings, too, if you're into shitting fire for the next day."

On the porch, Lily watched uncertain, while Tyler looked caught somewhere between baffled and impressed.

"Uh..." he started. "What the hell?"

"Don't ask me," Lily said. Andy had always been way too open with random encounters, even when he was just as likely to jump or shy away from a stranger as he was to greet them. But Jack had a clearer, if more distrusting head on his shoulders. To see him welcome the apparent newcomer with all but open arms was...strange. Unsettling.

"Your friends are very...trusting," Tyler said slowly.

Lily set down her plate and stood up. "No," she said quietly, her eyes flicking from Andy to Armand and back. "They're really not. Hey Drew? Andy? We've got a second cooler in the car. Come help me?"

Andy grinned at her, like he grinned at everybody. Strangers included, apparently. "Sure," he said, handing off Armand's plate. "There's beer in the kitchen if you want," he said, nodding at the open front door.

Lily watched shrewdly, and turned to Andy the moment they were out of earshot.

"Do you know that guy?" she demanded.

"Who?" Andy asked, as if he were genuinely unsure who she was talking about. "The guy who just drove up?" He shrugged and laughed. "Sure. Name Armand. You miss that part?"

Lily folded her arms. "No. But I must have missed the part where you guys go way back, because why else would you be so calm letting a stranger into your home? And why is he just...eating your food?"

Andy made a face. "Right? Tell Jack I obviously make a better burger when he gets back. But don't tell him I told you to tell him, he -- "

"Andy. Focus. Not what I meant. I mean...isn't it a little weird...this random guy just..waltzing up, sitting down to dinner? I mean, hell, isn't it a little crazy that Jack invited him?"

Andy paused to think about it. When spoken aloud, it sounded a little strange...but stranger still was the fact that Armand didn't feel like a stranger at all.

"Jack...is usually pretty good about these kinds of things," Andy said slowly. Lily nodded impatiently.

"Yeah, I know. That's my point."

Andy shrugged again, grinning helplessly as Jack reentered the yard. "Sorry, what was that Lil?"

Lily made a sound in the back of her throat. "Forget it," she said. "Just...keep an eye on him, will you?"

"Of course."

"Not Jack, Andy. The new guy. Armand, or whatever his name is."

"Oh. Right. Yeah, sure, Lil. If it makes you feel better."

 

[Peregrine]

Jack returned from the garage with a hose in hand, and wandered over to his car, quickly draining a little bit into a tank. For a moment Lily thought that would be the end of it, he'd disappear, but she found herself proven wrong only a few moments later, as the tank of gas lay abandoned next to the wheel, and Jack was offering Armand a shot from a bottle of rum that Lily hadn't spotted getting opened. For a moment she stood flabbergasted, before deciding to take matters into her own hands.

"Tyler, go distract Andy and Jack for a minute, won't you?" Tyler seemed to immediately grasp her point and wandered off. Lily was sure he'd take full advantage of the moment to grab a shot of his own.

As soon as Andy and Jack's attention had turned, Lily grabbed Armand by the shoulder, dragging him away. Once they were a reasonable distance away, but not so far as to be odd, she turned to face him, frowning ferociously. "You need to go," she demanded.

"It's okay," he consoled. For a moment Lily felt something almost like a crack appear in her resolve, but she frowned harder and steeled herself.

"No, it's not okay. None of us know you. This isn't your get-together. Just take your gas and get out of here."

"Lily." There was a hand resting on her shoulder. When had that gotten there? "It's okay."

"But... My name?" Her words were starting to fail her. It felt like there was something in the back of her mind, struggling to get out.

"It's okay."

"Wha..." for a moment she stared at him, before finally seeming to blink. "Okay. Just... don't stay too long."

When she walked away, Armand turned to rejoin Andy and Jack. Tyler cast her a confused look, before hurrying over. "Lily, what happened?"

"What?" she asked, for a moment honestly confused.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "The guy. What's his name. Armand. You were getting rid of him, remember?"

"It's okay." Lily found herself saying, unexpectedly. Somehow, she knew it actually was. "He's... fine. It might be good for Jack and Andy to lose some of their paranoia, anyways. We'll keep an eye on him."

"...If you say so," Tyler finally replied.

The rest of the gathering passed in a blur of happy chatter, alcohol, food, and puppy kisses. It was over far, far too quickly, but as the sun was finally beginning to set Armand turned down one last game of darts.

"No, no," he said with a smile. "I really must get going. Thank you, this has been a remarkable evening." He shook hands with Jack and Andy, offered Lily a parting hug, and turned to wave at Tyler.

As he started walking down the driveway, the one member of the party he had forgotten to say farewell to got his own word in. Grizzly raced off down the driveway, barking like mad, and nearly bowling Armand over from behind. Armand smiled slightly as he reached down to pat Grizzly one last time, even as his other hand lifted to wave farewell to everyone there. Everyone except Tyler waved back. Under hand, Grizz rolled over, before yelping slightly as a cut appeared on his belly and something seemed to slip of Armand's hand. But in an instant the cut was gone, and Grizzly was back to wiggling, before racing over enthusiastically to Jack and Andy. By the time the two looked up from Grizz's antics, Armand was gone. No one noticed he had forgotten the can of gas.

Behind the line of trees, Armand came to a halt. There was a look of prideful joy on his face, along with something almost resembling sadness, like a parent at a child's graduation. He lifted his face to the sky, and a tear rolled down his cheek, even as he smiled and began to dissolve. It wasn't, after all, goodbye forever.

Once a piece of the whole, always a piece of the whole.

​

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