The reassuring weight of TC and Adhafera on Jack's lap kept bringing him to tears. He was safe and free from the manipulations of vampires. It was real. He wasn't dreaming. He wiped at his eyes, wincing at the soreness in his shoulder.

He lightly ran a finger over the edges of the bandage covering his shoulder, rubbing the fabric of his shirt across it. He missed his oversized hoodie. As much as he wanted to get another, it wouldn't be the same.

His laptop had been found and returned to him, along with his phone. He looked down at where his laptop sat beside him, and slowly breathed through the sense of panic. He was grateful to have his stuff back, but he still wanted to get replacements.

A new, untainted start. A start that was going to require decisions he didn't want to make.

He reached past his laptop and picked up the journal resting beside it. He opened up to where a cheap ballpoint pen held his place and read over what he'd written, swallowing back the need to break down.

He couldn't remember writing about the sheets with happy dinosaurs. He'd even gone so far as to draw one, and he could vaguely recall the blue stegosaur.

He had added transcribing his journal pages into his routine, and he was frightened by just how much information he wasn't retaining. Even his recent stay with Farragut was slippery. The one solid memory he was able to hold onto was that of Farragut's head sitting on the floor next to a lifeless body.

It was gruesome, it gave him nightmares, and it was reassuring with how invasively it stuck in his mind.

He closed the journal and ran his thumb over the upper corner, relaxing under the soft sound of quickly flipping pages. He was getting better at remembering the times Kieran had fucked with his head, but anything relating to Farragut was a much harder battle.

And here he thought he was doing pretty well, remembering bits and pieces all on his own. Too bad most of it didn't stick. He could remember more from the week that Farragut had him than he could from his first stint at being Farragut's personal wine rack, so he had to be making progress.

A soft knock on the door, and Jack looked up, apprehensive of a conversation he wasn't ready for.

"C'mon in," he said.

Sam pushed the door open and leaned against the doorjamb. "How ya' doin'?" he asked.

"Shitty. My, uh, memory issues are worse than I thought," Jack replied, holding up his journal. He set it on top of Adhafera's side, earning a small mewl of complaint.

"Is it getting worse?"

"No. Just same ol' same old." He watched as his journal rose and fell with Adhafera's breaths. "I think. I paid my rent."

"You can quit your lease, if it'd be easier. You can rent the guestroom," Sam offered.

Jack shook his head. He already felt bad for staying with Sam and Candace. "I feel better having a place of my own. Even if it's not great, it's mine. I can…" His brows furrowed as uncertainty poured through him. Could he afford to have a shitty little apartment he was going to do his best to avoid for a while? He couldn't recall feeling worried when he paid the bill. On time and ahead by a week.

No, his worries surrounded the fact that Farragut knew where he lived and frequented. He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. Farragut was dead. Apparently, potato chips made a decent accelerant.

"I'm good," he said with a shrug. "I just need some things to stick before I get out of your hair. I'm out. I'm good. You found me."

"We got lucky." Sam pushed off the door frame and sat on the foot of the bed. "I came down kinda hard on your boyfriend," he said. His tone was apologetic, and his smile was anything but. "You're right about the Lucky Charms thing," he teasingly added.

"He's not my boyfriend. Right now. I dunno. I need a break-break from…people. Maybe I should date someone else first? Like, get some sorta sense of a normal dating thing? Dynamic. Not that he's not normal. He's kinda normal. Normal enough. Since I have access to his computer, I looked up his browser history, and I don't know what I was expecting. It was normal. Directions, reviews, history stuff. Dull. He likes ritzy restaurants."

He crossed his arms and looked away from Sam's disapproving stare. "I guess I wanted to find something…spookier? Illicit? I want an excuse that's not just… He… I don't wanna say I owe him, 'cuz that's a shitty reason to date someone. I'm torn. That's all. He says he likes me for reasons, but I dunno if I like him for any reasons outside the aesthetic. I mean, it feels like I like him 'cuz he matches the curtains or something. Like I bought a book just because the cover looks cool, but I have no intention of ever reading it. I just want it on my shelf to stare at."

"Books aren't for everyone. I'm not into mysticism, but the writing was compelling, and the advertising campaign was relentless," Sam said with a smirk.

"Er… Right. Books. Reading. I can read. I'm not illiterate. I just prefer to read alone?" He shrank under Sam's amusement. And then a brow was raised, waiting for him to continue digging his hole. "Are we talking about the same thing?"

"Candy trusts you not to be a homewrecker and act on your cute crush because I'm clueless, and you're harmless."

"It's not a crush. It's envy over being a functioning adult," he said, much too defensively for it to be true. Maybe deflecting would work better. "Which, y'know, raises some flags when someone's first few impressions of me is as a total disaster, and he's still interested? And I'm not supposed to question his motives? He's handsome and creepy, and I've done that before, and it ended up…" He raised and dropped his arms. "But he's more spooky-creepy, not creepy-creepy."

Jack looked up at Sam as the weighted silence drew on. He didn't like the calculating stare that bore into him. He was a wreck that had no ability to lie at the moment, and Sam looked determined.

"Jack, tell me O'Byrne has no involvement with Farragut."

"W-what?"

"We got a tip on your location, and I think it came from him," Sam flatly replied.

"I uh…"

"You said you owe him."

"Well… Yeah, but… I plead the fifth? Is that the right one?" Jack attempted a smile and tugged on his sleeves.

Sam ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Fuck. Damnit, Jack."

Jack stared at his lap. The weight of the two cats seemed to grow heavier, pinning him in place with no escape.

Sighing as he looked back at Jack, Sam brought his hand over his mouth then dropped it onto his lap. "Is it anything incriminating?"

"Nothing that doesn't sound crazy, and I don't wanna be committed again. But I probably should be," Jack admitted.

"Candy says I should leave it. Should I listen to her?"

Sam's question was spoken quietly, but still startled Jack. "Yeah. She knows her shit. That knowledge sword was right."

"Right."

"It's still fucking cardstock printed in China," he insisted.