The only sound filling the stretch of silence that felt like infinity to Jack was the rumble of thunder, as the rain continued to pound on the roof high above. He was hardly aware of his own rapid pants, or his heart racking against his ribs with a frenzied knocking, but rather he was solely focused on the two pairs of eyes locked on his body; those eyes of giants, whom outdid the Irishman every way possible: outsized, outstrengthed, outright in control of every atom of the very bedsheets that coldly cradled his pathetic figure. He could try and look for a way out, or just blindly flee, but they could-- and he didn't doubt would-- easily overpower him.
He was nothing to them.
Mark and Amy both held on to their baited breaths, and while Amy was fathoming the remarkable existence of these dying-out creatures, again, Mark was studying Jack intently; the way the shoulders bunched up, how close the limbs were to the core of the little human, or how obviously shaken this frightened thing was. He was afraid, and Mark understood why. But to help him, the giant would first have to try and connect with him. And that started with calming him down.
Mark took a deep breath and leaned forward. Amy shot him a warning look as he let his hand sink into the covers, and Jack flinched away. Mark bit his lip and put his weight forward, slowly laying down on his stomach so that he was at the human's eye level. He could practically smell the fear wafting from the huddled form, like rancid food left too long in the trash. His nose wrinkled sympathetically, and he put his head down and pressed his cheek against the covers so that he could get a better look at Jack. Still, the human was gripping a wrinkle in the heavy sheet, and as he felt the giant come closer and closer he seemed to get even smaller. But as Mark opened his mouth, about to offer soft reassurances, a whimper interrupted him. He hesitated, and then when he tilted a little closer he saw a droplet fall from the human's face.
He was... crying.
Mark was stunned as he watched the waterworks let loose. Jack didn't even bother to hide it, his countenance just contorted as he gripped the covers harder. Amy slowly knelt down as Jack started sobbing, and she exchanged a sympathetic glance with Mark over the small man's head. Mark looked back at Jack, feeling a wave of emotions wash over him.
"..." He lifted his hand. He saw Jack flinch when the very shadow of it loomed over his hunched figure, and in turn he winced guiltily. He slowly let his hand come down, and then he tilted his hand and let only his thumb come into contact.
Jack stiffened as he felt the warm and heavy extremity rest on his head. He held still, hoping that the giant was going to just put him out of his misery already, instead of prolonging the inevitable. But no weight came flinging down upon him. Not a disgusted hand, or book, or even the ridges of a shoe. Instead, Mark's thumb slowly, gently, trailed down his back, and then back up toward the shoulders, in a repeated motion. It felt... it felt kinda nice, actually. It was sending a chill through his nerves, but it was pleasant, like ASMR when listening to rain or white noise tapes. He felt his muscles relax under the gentle rubbing, and his grip on the covers eased. The tears leaking from his stormy ice-blue eyes subsided too, and he could only stare at the pattern of the spreading as Mark continued to rub his back.
"I think it's working," Amy whispered. Mark nodded. He could feel all the intricate muscles that were bunched up under his touch now softening, but the breathing was still shallow and apprehensive.
"Can you get some of those leftovers heated up?" He murmured, guiltily noting Jack shrivel downward like the weight of his voice was too great. But Amy caught on to Mark's idea, and she nodded, quickly backing away to leave the room. It was just one giant now.
Jack watched her go out of the corner of his eye, feeling his heart flutter at the sound of the door clicking shut. He was still stranded high up upon the bed, right next to Mark and now directly underneath his hand— or at least, half of his hand. Most of the fingers sat dutifully behind him, like dogs awaiting their master's command to hunt something down.
"Is your arm okay?" Jack's breath hitched again. "It didn't start bleeding again, did it?" The human's eyes trailed to his arm. It was still throbbing, and it did feel warm, but it was hard to tell. His senses were too frazzled, he was all over the place. One side of him was saying "Holy shit I'm talking to a giant and I'm not dead yet!" But the other side was screaming at him to get out of there, to wake up from this nightmare before it was too late.
Mark frowned a little. Humans were able to talk, weren't they? He was painfully aware how little he really knew of the diminutive person he and Amy had rescued, but he could have sworn he'd heard that they had some kind of language of their own, even if it just sounded like squeaking. But it made his heart ache regardless to watch Jack huddle up, shrinking away from his thumb to curl around himself and lay in the sheets fully vulnerable, as if he was too tired to fight any more— or was ready to just accept death. Mark hoped it was a third option, that the little guy was just feeling overwhelmed and needed some space.
So he pulled his hand away and slowly moved off the bed, standing at the opposite corner. Jack had remained frozen until he no longer heard movement, and when he dared to finally look up he only saw Mark far away, a part of the background, with his head tilted like a puppy as he watched in return. Jack forced himself to meet the giant's gaze, feeling what little strength he had ebb away again like water over rocks, but he was surprised to see the muscles around the brobdingnagian's mouth tighten to give a soft smile.
There was some sort of concern in those honey-brown eyes too. Was it pity? Could a giant even pity a human? Jack wasn't sure what emotion he was feeling; fear, that much was obvious, but also indignation. Did the giant think he was just some pathetic creature to be taken in like a stray pet? Just thinking the word "pet" made the Irishman's heart skip again. He didn't want whatever that could entail. Who knows how much torture that would put him through; constant attention, never any privacy, no freedom or independence, or any free will for that matter. No, Jack knew he needed to find a way to escape as soon as he could. Maybe if he played along, if he complied well enough, then they would lower their guards enough for him to slip away... And yet, a part of Jack was curious. What kind of lives did giants lead? Besides the human-murdering kind, of course.
But the only movement Mark had made was to slowly crouch, hoping he'd appear less intimidating as he watched Jack's distant and wary stare. The human must have had it even rougher than he realized. But he noticed the fragile creature move, and the giant instinctively held his breath to watch Jack sit and huddle up amongst the sheets. It took Mark a moment to register the tightly folded arms, and the shivering knees knocking against his small chest: he must be cold. Especially after everything he had been through, today alone.
"You must be freezing," Mark murmured in a soft baritone. The nervous blue eyes flit back to him, cloudy with exhaustion and wary. "Amy's getting some food heated up," the giant gently added, "Do you want some?"
Jack couldn't deny that his stomach did feel hollow. His appetite was gone, but his middle still let out a hungry growl at the idea of food, making him go red and hide his face in his knees out of fearful embarrassment. Who was to say the giant wasn't trying to fatten him up after all?
But Mark's brow had frowned upward, and before he could speak again Amy gently knocked on the door before slowly opening it.
"I cut the steak up as small as I could, but it's a little hot still." The delicious aroma of iron-rich and seasoned meat coerced Jack to raise his head again. He was vaguely aware of how quickly his saliva glands perked to attention, staring warily as Amy moved to the edge of the bed and crouched.
"Thanks Amy," Mark murmured gratefully as she carefully slid the small plate as close to the human as either of them dared, then stepped back to join her partner in giving the diminutive man some space.
"We should give him a moment alone to eat," Amy murmured back.
"But what if he runs away, or hides?" Mark had felt his heart flutter off-beat, not meaning to be overbearing; but the thought of Jack going anywhere scared him, the poor little guy could get hurt!
"He needs his space," she reasoned gently, "Look at him: he's scared stiff, and he isn't going to try anything if we're just sat here staring at him like he's some animal in an exhibit." Mark winced, realizing his mistake.
"You're right." He made the first move, slowly standing to see that Jack indeed had not budged toward the tempting food, and was still staring at them like a frightened deer in headlights. He tried offering a soft smile as Amy followed him around the bed and to the doorway.
"We'll give you some time and space," he promised, "But if you need anything, just... call for us, I guess." He expected no reaction from Jack, but as the giant turned away and left the room, the human's expression had shifted to disbelief. And yet he watched as the two giants left, quietly shut the door behind them— without locking it— and left him to stare at his realized freedom, with only the sound of rain pouring outside of the comforts of the room.
. . . Did they just let him go?
There was no way, there had to be a trick.
Were they planning on him trying to escape? Were they waiting on the other side of the door for him to try and leave?
Jack glanced about his surroundings. He had the whole room to himself. An entire, giant's, room. Something about the idea made a wheezy chuckle build up in his diaphragm, but he quickly grimaced and glanced at the door again. He couldn't see a shadow moving under the trimming, or floorboards creaking, or anything to signal an eavesdropping listener. That alone admittedly made his cortisol relax most of the tension in his aching muscles.
He breathed out a slow exhale of relief and finally dared to look at the plate. There was a small grouping of beef steak, little squares of finely cut meat that not only looked edible, but juicy. And right beside it was a bottle cap, which peaked Jack's interest. He took one last look at the door, then slowly forced his body to move. His limbs protested as he rose up on trembling legs, and he was stumbling a bit as he shakily made his way across the covers and up to the lip of the plate. Getting up and on was arduous, but he finally managed to roll onto the cold ceramic before rising back up to analyze the plated contents.
Inside the bottle cap was water. Water? Jack slowly crouched and sniffed it, then put a cautious hand in. Yep, definitely water. Nothing acidic at least. But what if it was poisoned? He scooped up a small handful and poked the liquid with his tongue for a taste test. Completely flavourless. Refreshing, if anything, his body certainly seemed to recognize it. He took up another handful, and another, his thoughts completely halting as he drank his desperately needed fill. The refreshing sensation of the gelid liquid fulfilling him was so satisfying, he hardly even realized how quickly he nearly emptied the bottle cap. But once he had his fill, he sat back to let his body adjust, almost feeling sick from how desperately needed that drink was.
Okay, maybe I did need this. It was that admission to himself that chased away his remaining uneasiness. And with self-permission given, his body could relinquish control of his physically painful fear, and focus on the other things that hurt— like his arm. Nothing had seeped from the secure wrappings of the gauze, but Jack wasn't about to risk gagging again; or fainting, for that matter. He kept his attention on the rain instead, letting the hand that was in better shape absentmindedly ruffle his messy bangs up and down as a means of self-soothing. His foot was too tired to be in any condition to tap, but his leg bounced anyway, healthily releasing his pent up anxiety and energy.
He almost closed his eyes before giving his head a small shake, grunting at how quickly he almost dozed off. He still needed to eat, just a little something at least. Despite his body's begging to now just lay down, Jack stiffly got back up again and shuffled over to the steak. It was still warm, but not hot, which was fine by him: hot meals were near impossible to come by, after all. He picked up a juicy looking cube of meat that was about the size of a small backpack, and he took a seat where it was dry before taking a nibble from the corner. He immediately took a breath, savouring the bite with closing eyes. Seasoning... Protein...! He tucked in to the desperately needed calories, making a bit of a mess as he accommodated to such succulent and fresh food again.
It was so rich in fact that he could only start on a second piece before having to push away to let his body try to adjust to all the desperately needed fat from the fine cut of steak. He let out a relaxed exhale and wiped his mouth as best he could, moving just enough to get off the plate and sit in the covers once more. And then he lay all the way down, and quickly found his eyelids too heavy to keep open any longer.
But he rested more comfortably than he had before, with his belly warm and full, his hydration level going back up, and the adrenaline finally gone to allow him to slowly go limp... and before he could even realize, he was giving in to the pleas of his exhausted body, dozing off fast-- and he fell sound asleep.