The Magpie's Death

Drunken Honesty (1)

"You're awake?"

Jack sounded tired and flashed Sam a forced smile as he entered the kitchen. Sitting alone at the long island, beer in hand, the combination of sunken brow and dull eyes made him look uncharacteristically gloomy. It was enough to make Sam pause.

"Ellie has nightmares."

Jack's chin bobbed, barely acknowledging the comment, then he took a swig. "Poor girl." After another larger gulp, he pointed the bottle toward him. "Poor you."

Without responding, Sam continued to the sink. The day had been awkward after his story earlier and he'd purposely avoided the twins to escape moments like this. Usually, unlike the other people he met, he didn't hate talking with Jack. He didn't spend the entire time waiting for the other party to shut up. He didn't have to figure out the most appropriate thing to say or the best way to excuse himself. Instead, Jack was content with a mostly one-sided chat and his antisocial personality didn't seem to be a bother. Sometimes, it felt the same as speaking to Squirrel. Full of pointless details or random thoughts he didn't need to know, but not tedious or annoying. There were even times Jack would come looking for him, actually hoping to talk. As if it was somehow enjoyable. He supposed some people were just chatty.

Right now, though, he only wanted a glass of water and to return to bed. He wasn't in the mood for sympathy or meaningless chit-chat. Leaning with his back against the counter, he took a sip, examining Jack as he nursed his beer. For the first time since entering this house, that signature warm smile was missing from his face.

"You can stop staring at me."

Sam didn't move his gaze. "I've never seen you without a smile."

With a huff, Jack put his bottle down, staring back. The space between his brows scrunched and his displeasure was obvious now. "Everyone has bad days. People can't smile all the time."

"You seem to."

"Well, I don't."

He was already a little tipsy. Sam wondered if it was from that one drink or if this was a second round.

"I try, but sometimes I can't."

Sam wanted to give him an okay and head back to the room. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to start. Yet no matter how he tried, he couldn't bring himself to leave, so he walked over and sat on the stool beside him.

"You don't have to smile all the time. It's fine to be upset."

"Like you? Do you ever smile?"

The question was likely rhetorical, the alcohol and whatever was bothering him speaking in his place, but Sam answered anyway.

"No."

Jack immediately turned his head in response, dark green eyes fixed on him. He stared for a long moment. Then, after a short breath in, he asked, "Wanna drink with me?"

* * *

Jack was in a worse mood than he thought because the two went through five straight shots of vodka before he said anything other than "Drink." Finally, his words beginning to slur, he asked, "Why don't you ever smile?"

Sam shrugged and filled his glass. In his past life as Lost Horizon, he had a high tolerance for alcohol. It was part of the job. Clients and higher-ups expected it, but he also had to maintain a constant awareness, so being a functional drunk was a must. As the Magpie, he never drank. He was too cautious to willingly dull his senses and lower his inhibitions. It wasn't worth the possible, and potentially deadly, consequences. Plus, he couldn't imagine the damage he'd already done to his liver. Now, as Sam, his tolerance was much lower and he was already feeling a bit tipsy.

"I don't know how to smile," he replied, staring into the clear liquid.

He was an honest drunk, so now he was also feeling a bit honest. His survival instincts outweighed everything else. For longer than he could remember, he had one purpose in life – to stay alive. Not for any particular reason, but what was the point otherwise? No amount of alcohol could make him forget that, so his identity was never in danger. Still, if he could answer a question as both the Magpie and Sam, he would. He wanted to.

With a frown, Jack pulled his glass away before he had a chance to drink. "Smiling's just... smiling. It isn't something you know. It's something you do."

"Then I don't do it." He grabbed the liquor back and downed it, slamming the empty glass on the table.

"Never?" Shock and disbelief were expected, but there was something soft in Jack's eyes that didn't match either of those. "Have you ever smiled?"

Sam shook his head. It felt light and he slumped forward over the island, propping himself up on his elbows. There wasn't a single memory in his hazy mind that even resembled that kind of expression.

"Don't think so."

Pouring himself a shot, Jack threw it back, then let out a long sigh. "I don't believe you."

"Then don't."

"I mean, who's never smiled?" Jack spit back, growing louder with every word.

His cheeks flushed from the heat of the alcohol and his own irritation. Sam gestured for him to lower the volume.

"Everyone smiles," he continued, the response a whisper after his scolding. Sam almost huffed at how childish it was. "It's an emotional response. It just happens."

"I'm not emotional."

Leaning closer, Jack stared, his green eyes intense and a frown still plastered on his face. "Nope. I don't believe you."

"Okay."

Sam poured himself another shot, but Jack pulled it away again and gulped. It made him cough and Sam let out a heavy breath. What was he doing here, babysitting this drunk twenty-something? Why was he answering these pointless questions?

"You're frustrating," Jack choked out, pointing a finger as if there was anyone else in the room. "How do your friends deal with you?"

"I don't have friends."

"Because you're frustrating."

Sam only nodded in agreement. It was more the paranoia that came with maintaining a secret identity, but if his life was normal, his personality would definitely get in the way. Not that he ever wanted friends. All relationships, no matter how small, were a confusing hassle.

"So, in thirty years, you've never once smiled."

The repetition was getting annoying and he was really missing that stolen drink.

"Not that I remember," he breathed out, hoping he didn't have to say it again.

"So frustrating." There was a pause and Jack turned to stare at him again. "But, interesting..."

Sam met the focused gaze and pulled his head back in surprise. There was a new something different consuming those deep pools of green. Something he had never seen before and couldn't read. It made him uncomfortable, but he found himself stuck, unable to look away. After what seemed like an eternity, Jack sighed and looked out into the dark kitchen.

"Anyway," he said, less dramatic now, twirling the empty shot glass with his fingers. "I like that you're frustrating. I've never met anyone like you."

Sam stared out into the darkness with him, unsure how to respond to that. They both sat in silence for a while until he finally gave in and acknowledged the real reason they were downing a bottle of vodka in the middle of the night.

"Why are you so upset?"

He wasn't one to ask questions unless he was intentionally searching for information. But Jack wanted someone to talk to and wouldn't make the first move.