Punching Dulls the Hurt

Writers: Heather, Miriah
Date Posted: 12th October 2016

Characters: Saidrene, J'ackt
Description: Saidrene comes to check on J'ackt.
Location: Dolphin Cove Weyr
Date: month 8, day 2 of Turn 8

Saidrene

J'ackt

Saidrene had heard a little from Alina about her encounter with
J'ackt, granted, she had known that he was going to go about trying to
"court" the greenrider, as he had put it. So she wasn't surprised when
she came through Zith's weyrcouch to find the bronzerider pounding on
punching bag.

"Tough day?" She drawled, leaning her hip against the door frame.

At least he had learned to wrap his hands before pummeling the heavy
bag. Had he not, there was no doubt that as hard as he was hitting it,
he would have split the knuckles after the first few blows. Shirtless,
sweat streamed down his back as he leaned into the punches, driving
with his shoulder to rock the burlap bag back again and again. He
barely glanced up as Saidrene came in, his face set in a dark
expression. He grunted, his jaw tightening as he went after the bag
anew, moving with almost savage anger.

Saidrene knew that J'ackt's anger really just showed how much he cared
about Alina, and how much it had hurt to be refused. She also figured
his male ego was wounded as well, since he wasn't accustomed to being
refused by many women. Coming further into the weyr, Saidrene sank
into a chair, her chin in her hand as she crossed one leg over the
other and waited for J'ackt to exhaust some of his anger.

It took a while, but eventually, J'ackt slowed and leaned against the
bag, breathing hard. He glanced at his knuckles and cursed softly.
Despite the wrappings, some of his knuckles displayed blood that had
soaked through. He grimaced as he began to unwrap them, then looked
up, remembering that he wasn't alone. "What is it?" His voice was
gruff and he haphazardly wiped sweaty hair from his brow with his arm.

"You tell me. Clearly something is bothering you." She said, not
intimidated by his tone.

He snorted and continued unwrapping his hand, turning away from her.
"It's nothing." He examined the split knuckles, a bit annoyed that
the wrappings hadn't completely protected the already scarred tissue.
Striding over to his cabinet, he opened the jar of salve that he kept
and spread the medicine on his knuckles.

"Alina not as cooperative as you had hoped?" she pried.

He immediately stiffened, every muscle taut. He simply stood still for
a long moment, breathing slowly in an effort to control his emotions
on the matter. His hands went to his hips and his head fell back a bit
on his shoulders. "She laughed at me." His voice was quiet, then
strengthened. "Like I said, it was a stupid fecking idea." He kept his
back to Saidrene, still looking at his knuckles.

"She laughed?" Saidrene often found some of her friend's ways peculiar
but she hadn't imagined Alina being cruel enough to laugh. "Maybe she
was just.. surprised?"

J'ackt just snorted and reached for a rag to wipe his face with. "Like
I said, it was a stupid idea." He wiped off his neck and when he
turned to face her, his expression was stony. "I'd rather not talk
about it."

"Well, I'm sorry it didn't go the way you wanted." She settled for saying.

He remembered how upset she had been and wondered if she was being
completely honest with him. **But it doesn't matter now, does it? **
He sat down in his chair, legs outstretched as he took a deep,
thoughtful breath. "It's not important."

Her eyes went to his knuckles, "Your hands say otherwise."

He looked down at his hands and studied them. "It's better than
finding someone to beat the whershit out of."

"It is," Saidrene agreed. "You got some wine around here? It's an even
easier option than busting up your knuckles."

"No. The last time I drank I made an absolute fool of myself. I'm not
touching it again." He exhaled and then closed his eyes, rubbing his
temples. "And my father relied on that swill. I'm not going to be like
him."

"Haven't heard from Jeninne lately?" She asked, reminded of the other
girl at the mention of J'ackt's last drinking escapade.

"No, thank Faranth. I'm rid of the girl." He laid his head back on his
chair and stared at the ceiling of his weyr for a long moment. He
lowered his gaze and waved at Saidrene. "Come here."

Well, that was good news. Leaving her chair she walked to where he
sat, and tilted her head, "Yes?"

He sat up, looked at her and without a word, tugged her down to sit
across his lap. His arms went around her waist and he rested his brow
against her shoulder, not saying anything, just holding her. It wasn't
so much of a comfort for her than it was that he simply needed the
touch of a person that he knew cared about him.

Saidrene settled into his lap and wrapped her arms around J'ackt,
understanding his need for comfort. Without speaking she gently
stroked her fingers through his hair.

He closed his eyes and relaxed a little, letting the soothing touch
release some of his tension. For a long time, he didn't say anything,
just allowing himself to accept the comfort. His arms were snug around
her, but not tight. After a long time, he murmured. "My mam used to do
that when I was little."

It made Saidrene wonder how different J'ackt would have been had his
mother lived and continued to raise him. From everything she'd ever
heard J'ackt say about his mother, the woman had been warm,
affectionate, and loving. Saidrene had at least had her mother there
for her after her father died, but J'ackt's father hadn't been
nurturing at all, in fact, he'd been the opposite.

"Feeling a little better?"

J'ackt just gave a grunt, content not to move and seeming to be lost
in thought. His fingers mindlessly stroked her lower back. "I miss
her." His voice was very soft. "Sometimes, it's hard for me to
remember what she looked like. " His brow furrowed against her
shoulder. "I think I look like her. Maybe that's why.." His voice
trailed off.

"Why what?" She asked softy, wondering if it had to do with his father.

"Why he hated me." The statement wasn't sad, nor was it wistful. It
was said flatly, as if he knew it was a fact. "He never used my name,
you know. It was all always 'boy' or something like that. The only
time he called me his son was right before he died." His brow
furrowed. "You know...he
used to black my eyes out if I cried. 'Real men don't cry', is what he
told me all the time, and that he wouldn't see me grow up to be some
pretty boy weakling."

Saidrene wondered what J'ackt's father would think to see how he had
raised someone who, although not weak physically, was definitely weak
in emotional areas. "Was that the way he was raised?"

"I don't know." J'ackt's eyes remained closed. "He didn't talk about
his parents or his family. I don't even know their names. I don't know
why we were Holdless. I wasn't allowed to ask."

"Maybe his father treated him that way and that's all he knew."
Saidrene said, brushing J'ackt's bangs away from his closed eyes.

Which only made it more certain that J'ackt was sure he didn't want
children. "That's all I know too."

"That's true, but you have seen it can be different. N'vanik's not
that way with his children is he? You can break the cycle. You don't
have to be what your father was." Saidrene told him.

"I won't be. I'm making sure of it."

Last updated on the December 17th 2016

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Punching Dulls the Hurt