They paid the bill and took their food to go. Amy held the containers of still-warm contents, and Mark smuggled the small human. As they were on their way out, they spotted the chef going from table to table, asking nervously how everyone's meal was but also eyeing the floor. A simple glance between Amy and Mark was all they needed to understand: The chef was hunting for the human. He was the one who had hurt Jack.
They exited the building quickly and hurried on their way home. Mark sighed in relief as they put the restaurant behind them. "I'm sorry this all happened," he apologized, "I thought this was just going to be a simple eat-with-your-fiancé anniversary meal, I didn't expect to be rescuing something. And a human, of all things!"
"It's okay," Amy replied kindly, "And I don't mind. I'm just as shocked as you. But I'm proud of you, you made the right call." She kissed his cheek, making the blood rush in his face. He blushed and looked away humbly, deciding to check on their small hitchhiker.
Mark had hidden Jack in the pocket on his dress shirt, which was concealed behind the slanted walls of smooth black that made up the front of his suit. He carefully pulled it back and pushed the pocket lip open, peering inside. The poor human was curled up at the bottom, sound asleep. The cut had finally stopped bleeding, but just the thought of it made the giant queasy, so he concealed Jack once more and led the way home. They were just reaching the familiar block when the sky rumbled abovehead, reminding them to hurry to avoid the bad weather. And no sooner had they just managed to get through the door did the cloudy skies suddenly unleash the torrents of rain.
Locking the door, Mark could hear Amy shuffling away to place the leftovers in the fridge. He could see her now, in his mind's eye: the soft tap of her feet as she crossed the cool white floor, a rustle and clatter as she set her purse down on equally cold marble counters, and the powerful hum of the fridge as it gaped its silver maw to eagerly hold on their uneaten edibles for later consumption. He gazed distantly through the window: How sudden the weather had turned, from calm and airy to such a dark and moody tone, and yet there were still a few more hours before nightfall. He sighed and adjusted his suit's tucked collar, only to let it trail and slide down the lapel and rest over his warm pocket. The only movement he could detect aside from his own diaphragm's gentle pushes were the faint stirrings of Jack's own feathery breathing.
Poor thing... must have been so desperate, to risk a popular restaurant in the middle of LA like this. Mark sighed softly and let his hand drop to the buttoning. As he was just about to undo them, Amy came back in to the small foyer hall.
"Here, let me." He turned and kept still as she unhooked the buttoms and pushed the flaps away. He shrugged the sleeves off, but only his arms moved, and with careful velocity. Amy continued, taking off his tie and setting it down on his broad shelfy shoulder before she carefully reached into the pocket and pulled the unconscious form out by his waist.
Thunder rumbled ominously outside, and Jack frowned in his sleep as he stirred restlessly in Amy's grip with a soft whimper. "Here, let me." Mark held his huge hand out, and Amy carefully put the human down in the center of his palm; they traded, Mark with Jack and Amy with his suit and tie.
"I'll go wash this blood out." Amy pulled away and respectfully retreated. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the shadowy house, and then there was a boom of thunder so great that the windows vibrated with excitement. Jack flinched against Mark's hand, and the giant could feel tiny tremors as the tiny creature feebly quivered at the loud sound.
"You poor thing." Mark cupped his hands gently together like a small cage to give the little guy a sense of security. His thumbs were left parted slightly, giving Jack plenty of space to breathe as he carried the human away from the front door. He retired to his bedroom, leaving the door closed, and sat on the immense mattress. He peeked at the small lifeform, both fascinated and concerned; on the one hand, even in his sleep Jack was reacting negatively to the loud noises-- probably from all of his time fearing and running from giants; but on the other hand... Mark never fathomed holding one of these astounding, sentient little people, and yet... here he was. He was holding one. And it wasn't even big enough to take up his whole hand.
This sent a shudder through Mark, chilling him all the way down his spine. I thought they'd be a little bit bigger. But no. The news was wrong: Humans weren't monsters; they weren't evil; they weren't even lethal; they were completely, totally helpless.
Lightning flashed again, and thunder outvoiced the heavy patter of rain. Mark's throat went dry when he felt the breathing pattern quicken, and he felt fragile limbs hit his own digits. For a moment, panic flared in Mark's chest, squeezing his lungs. Is he awake? Is he trying to break free? He removed his covering hand, and with relief he saw that Jack had only turned over. Just as a sigh was exhaled though, he noticed the frown deeply etched in the human's countenance. His eyes traced remorsefully over every wrinkle, every follicle of untrimmed hair in the scruffy goatee and unkempt hair, every microscopic eyelash. He recalled those ghostly, icy eyes as they had fixated on his soft chocolate ones; the emotion had been undeniable: Fear. Despite that terrible cut, it was fear that had sent the human running. It was fear that got him as far as it had. And it was fear that tried to tell him to escape, only to in the end fail.
And all because Mark had been curious.
Mark rubbed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He should have known better. He shouldn't have grabbed the human like that. He shouldn't have scared him in the first place. But if he and Amy hadn't taken him, then that nasty chef would have. Jack would probbaly have been dead by now just from blood loss.
The lightning flashed again, casting Mark's huge shadow over the tiny sleeping figure. The ghostly vision left traces in his own eyes, and his soft eyes hardened with determination. What the giants were doing was wrong. They were incriminating humans and slaughtering them like pests or livestock... and although Mark knew he couldn't change an entire civilization's way of thinking, he could change his own.
He could start by rescuing this one.
Everything in Jack's body ached. Even before he could open his eyes, every fiber of muscle in his body begged him to go back to sleep. But wariness urged Jack to take a peek at the waking world anyway: Just a little look, he could tell himself, then you can go back to bed. You need yer strength.
The first thing he noticed wasn't the loud yet nonexistent patter of rain: It was the warmth. He felt... warm. Not heat, heat was more berating. It was a soft and enveloping temperature, welcoming and with a gentle embrace.
The second thing he noticed were strange noises: Rumbly wooshes of air, soft gurgles, and a strange thumping noise. He could feel it in the ground beneath him, a pulse like a drum, muffled but somehow really strong. And the third thing he noticed, was that despite the rain, he was dry.
His eyes opened slowly. Foggy. Blurry. Sleepy. Cold air except where he lay. He staring up at a white ceiling, vast yet impossibly far away. For a moment, he almost thought he was back home, with his normal life, his girlfriend... His throat tightened with a swell of sorrow, and he immediately pushed away the memories. Crying would get him nowhere. He had to figure out where he was.
His body certainly protested when he started to move, but the ultimate halter was the pain that flared up in his hurt arm. He gasped and quickly took his weight off his arm, shivering. He looked at it: It hurt just to curl up his fingers into a fist. He grit his teeth and dared to look at the gash, but instead of a gorey sight, white wrapped neatly around his arm. Jack blinked. He didn't remember having any gauze. Where the hell am I? He looked around. He almost immediately regretted it.
He was on a bed. To the front-left was the door, and on the right was a blindfolded window: It was pitch black outside, but that didn't stop the steady splashing of heavy downpour. I'm in a house? And then it clicked. I'm in a giant's house. And then he remembered what happened before he passed out: Running, from the chef, hiding, and then running again, and then...!
Jack slowly tilted his head back. Behind him, a massive wall of white bore the wrinkles of a snug dress shirt fitted over a broad chest. Beyond that was a shape of tan and black... Mark's head. Jack's eyes widened, and he quickly looked around. The giant's gargantuan, muscular arms surrounded him, but the hands rested just a few feet below where his feet rested. Those huge hands. Jack remembered struggling in those giant digits, drowning in crushing skin and bones, feeling like he was being mercilessly pulverized into submission. He couldn't move his legs. He couldn't fight back. He couldn't plead for help, or for mercy. He had been completely finished.
So... why wasn't he dead?
Jack's breathing was shaky as he fought to keep calm. His senses only shook even more when he realized that he had been unconsciously taken away from the restaurant, and later set to rest on the giant's ribcage. But the chef... he was gone now. Now this was a different giant, one that had spared his life-- for now. Whether that was good or bad, Jack didn't want to wait around to find out.
Jack commanded his body to move and slowly got up. His joints ached and his limbs shook, but he knew he needed to leave, now, while he still could. He took a step and staggered; not only did the surface beneath him feel so solid and yet unsteady, but something also felt out of place. Was it his leg? His ankle? He didn't have time to diagnose himself. He settled for a three-legged crouch and dragged himself toward the edge. It was definitely his ankle. He kept his weight off it and sluggishly made his way to the downward bend of fabric: the giant's flank. Flanking the flank, Mark's well-toned bicep was in the way. Jack felt a growing dread the longer he stayed on the giant, so he got up on his good leg and carefully went down the edge. He gripped the fabric to control his descent, and he leaned away from the left hypochondriac region and fell onto the arm.
The muscles were bigger than he'd expected. He scrabbled for a hold on the sleeve and fought hard to pull himself up on top, almost sliding down into the tight space between the two curved edges. His arm ached, but this time he didn't let go. It would take him probably a month before he could ever use his arm again without the pain, so he just told himself to get used to it. Escaping was what really mattered anyway.
He managed to drag himself up and over the muscular arm and fell onto the covers: It was so cold! He shivered and put his hurt arm against his stomach to retain heat as he shouldered his way through the hilly wrinkles that stood between him and his escape. And then... he found himself staring down at a surely lethal drop. The blood in his face drained as he immediately backed up a step. He had never been this high up before. How was he going to get down now?
As he was contemplating his plan of action, the grumbles of the storm were soon suddenly outdone by the thuds of footsteps. Jack's eyes widened; hide! He ran along the side to make his way for the pillows, but just before he could make it, there was a knock at the door.
"Mark?" Everything suddenly started to move. Jack yelped as the ground under him slanted, and the next thing he knew he was tumbling, falling until he came colliding into a wall of fabric and warmth.
Mark had woken up and turned over to see Amy come in. He smiled tiredly. "Hey. What are you doing still up?" He asked with his baritone voice somehow even lower, slightly hoarse from sleep. Jack shivered, currently pinned right up against the giant's massive shoulder. The bone was dangerously close to crushing him. He couldn't get up. He was stuck. Trapped.
"You feel asleep without taking a shower?" Amy observed sympathetically. She was already in loose sweats that were comfy and stylish for a good night's rest. Mark chuckled.
"Yeah, I guess so--" He felt his chest, and his smile dropped in realization.
"Well, I was just stopping by to check on the human. And to tell you good night..." Amy trailed off and frowned as Mark sat up and frantically looked around. "What- what's the matter?"
Jack had taken another tumble when the giant pulled away, and he only managed to stop the rollar coaster by clinging dumbly to the large fabrics of the cover. His arm shook as it beared his weight, and Jack wished desperately for it all to just stop as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and braced himself.
"Th-the human! It's gone!" Mark peered at the surrounding floor, afraid that if he got up then one of his feet would come unsuspectingly crushing down on the little guy. But he couldn't have gotten far with that arm, surely? But just when his concern was about to push him to risk getting off the bed, Amy stopped him.
"Mark! Behind you." Twisting around, he spotted Jack in the sea of covers. He was mere feet away from getting squished by his own hand. Mark's chest jolted with an inward gasp, and he quickly moved his hand away, and pushed himself to the other end of the bed.
Jack's whole world shook as the mattress sank back up under him, vibrating with Mark's mass moving away, and it was only until the earthquake stopped that he let go and lay there, panting. Now his other arm ached. He could feel both of their eyes on him now, bearing holes into his back. But he couldn't bring himself to move, to get up and run or at least hide. But it was useless anyway.
Jack knew he was royally, totally, mega screwed.