They told them they could only bring so many personal belongings. Gabriel had taken his guitar, a picture of his mom and sisters, and a large sketchbook with its utensils. The blond who took up the other bunk, however, had a very different array of items. There was a tablet that looked ancient, and the only other occupants in his storage box were an army of glass animals. Rabbits and deer, little birds and coy foxes caught in time and preserved into beautiful figurines. The blond, whose name he later finds out is Jack, meticulously cleans them at the end of each week.
He wanted to say something at first, such as, why are there so many, and why didn't Jack have any pictures of his family back home? But he figures that it's something too personal for the not quite friendship they had at the moment.
Later, when they had faced the hell of SEP injections, Gabe works up the courage to ask him about the figurines.
It had been a rough night, and Jack had just stopped vomiting thirty minutes prior. The ceiling was spinning slightly for Gabriel, but he manages to get the words out right without choking on them. Jack doesn't answer at first, and for a second Gabe wonders if he thought the words rather than actually saying them. Just as he's beginning to repeat the question, Jack's quiet voice drifts down to him from the upper bunk.
"They're a childhood fascination I could never shake off."
Gabe's silent for a bit, before he curiously prodded, "So you took them instead of... I don't know, family photos?"
"I severed ties with my family when I went to Basic."
Ah. Gabe can see Jack's arm draped over the side of the upper bunk. His fingers are tapping an idle beat against the bottom frame of his bunk. He allows it for a little, before taking a hold of them and intertwining his own dark fingers with the pale piano fingers. The contrast strikes Gabe, though he'll never really understand why.
They don't talk much about Jack's figurines. Gabe will quietly watch Jack clean them, though, each time, out of the corner of his eye while he pretends to read. When Jack's birthday rolls around for the first time after the admittance, a glass swan appears in Jack's collection, a soft black ribbon around its neck.
Jack kissed him when he went to clean and found the new figure. Gabe decided he very much liked that look of happiness on the blond's face. As did he the dangerous, damnably hot spark in those blue eyes.
Each year, Jack's collection would grow, with a new creature each time.
When the promotion shook their...whatever they were doing- apart, things got harder. Gabe refused to talk to Jack, no matter how hard the blond tried to tell him that he did try to reject the position. Defeated, the blond crawled into a cold bunk in an empty room, having run from the party early. He was to move into the new Strike Commander rooms in a few days.
The few days were particularly hell, Gabriel either avoiding him or just flat out ignoring him. It left Jack miserable and helpless, despite how he hid it behind a little tight smile to others.
When he did move, he was carrying his box of personal things down to the rooms when somebody crashed into him. He instinctively reached to balance the other person, causing glass figurines to spill out of the box and smash onto the floor below him. His eyes dart up to mocha brown that immediately became guarded upon seeing the blue, and then down to his shattered figures. Gabriel seems to notice the mess of glass shards, and he hesitantly puts a hand on Jack's shoulder. Despite his frustrations, he knew how much they meant to Jack.
The blond swallows shakily, and hurriedly pushes past Gabriel, tears welling along his eyelashes. He punches in the passcode to the door, and locks it behind him. His back against the shut door, he slowly slides to the ground, box between his knees, face in his hands. Things could not get shittier.
Later, he does a headcount of the glass animals he does have left. Some farm animals and birds he had gotten from teachers who had taken note of his fascinations back in Indiana. The swan, Gabriel's first gift. A cat that had belonged to his mother.
It punches the air out of his lungs when he realises how much he lost. So many prim, glass animals lying in shattered memories in the hallway where he left Gabriel.
When the end of the week comes, Jack pushes away paperwork to clean what animals he has left.
When he opens up the small cabinet he now had for the figures, he finds the shelves adorned with his broken figurines. They've been repaired with what looks like thin strands of gold, and a black ribbon hangs from each one. Tears rapidly cloud Jack's vision, as he picks up a new, untouched one. It's a barn owl, gorgeous and carefully detailed. The bottom has a small heart on it, with the curly initials GR on it.
Jack clutches it loosely but close to him, shoulders trembling. Its eyes watch him kindly, as he shakes apart under its gaze.
