Hostage | Eyeless Jack x Reader

Citadel at Christmas

(Y/n) didn't know she was awake until she felt a soft weight shift on her lap.

She couldn't open her eyes, not yet, they were too heavy. But she could feel all too well.

She was on a soft surface, the room filled with the beeping of what she assumed was a heart monitor, connected by stickers to her chest. She was wearing a loose fitting cloth gown, and two plastic tubes pumped continuous oxygen into her nose. There was a slight pain in her nondominant arm, and by shifting it the tiniest bit, she heard a different tube slip against a plastic bed frame. Her other arm, however, was completely numb.

As for the weight on her lap, she had to force her eyes open to see.

She was in a hospital room, surrounded by machines that were all hooked up to her in some way. The staff had strung tinsel and lights around the frame of the bed she was laying in, and an IV was dripping medicine into her arm at a steady pace. Sunlight was streaming in from the city outside, which she recognized at once as Citadel.

And sleeping on her lap was Jack.

His arms were folded under his head, where he had buried his face from view. He was sitting in a chair beside her bed, wearing boots that looked all much too like Hanks, and snoring gently into her thighs.

(Y/n) smiled at the sight, ignoring the pain and fatigue, and moved her IV arm down to him. She placed her hand on his head, letting her fingers stray through the loose brown curls.

He shifted the moment she touched him, drawing in a sharp breath and groaning. She retracted her hand when he sat up, looking at her confused.

He was back to wearing their outing disguise, but she could see his shoulders slump in grogginess.

"(Y/n)?" He muttered, his voice hoarse and barely heard.

She only sighed in content and tried to give an mm-hmm. She hadn't found the strength to speak yet.

But Jack burst into tears at the signs of her awake. Within seconds, she was buried under him as he threw himself onto her, crushing her in a hug.

Whatever Jack was saying, she couldn't understand through his sobs, but she wrapped her arm around him and squeezed as tight as she could, though thoroughly shocked. Jack seemed like he had just gone through Armageddon with how much he clutched onto her. His whole body shook as he held her, his masked face pressed to the top of her head.

"Jack," her voice came out froggy and weak, muffled under Jack's weight, "What...."

Jack only moved back a little, cradling her with one arm and holding her cheek with the other. The paper mask he wore was stained black with tar from his tears.

"They said you wouldn't make it," he sniveled, rubbing her cheekbone with his thumb, "And after, they said you wouldn't wake up."

Despite Jack's relieved tone and soothing actions, (Y/n) had no idea what he meant.

"After what?" She yawned, "What happened?"

Jack's happy and relieved demeanor dropped in an instant as his brows shot up. He stammered for a moment before he uttered,

"You didn't see?"

When (Y/n) asked him again what he meant, Jack moved to hold onto her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers like he would lose her.

"(Y/n) they.... they had to amputate your arm."

The silence that filled the room was deafening. (Y/n) stared at him, confused, before she looked to her numb arm.