The next evening in Brooklyn, inside the loft of the Brooklyn Brew café, Jack sat motionless, staring at the screen. His thoughts were distant, lost somewhere far beyond the room where his teammates—Alastor, Rachel, Emily, Derek—huddled around papers, scribbling on whiteboards, their voices blending into a vague hum. Jack felt like a shadow, drifting outside the circle, detached and uncertain.
Jack looked over at Alastor, who was hunched over a set of papers, his jaw clenched in deep concentration. Rachel, too, was lost in her work, scribbling notes on a whiteboard. Everyone seemed to have a role, but Jack... he felt like he was merely taking up space. The unease in his chest had only grown since they'd arrived. His thoughts were heavier than usual, replaying the terrifying scenes from Queens—flashbacks that gripped him tighter with each passing hour.
He couldn't shake the memories of that night—of the chaos, the panic, and of Sarah Lee's terrified face as gunfire rang out. Jack had frozen. He hadn't moved a muscle, hadn't done anything when the danger was so close. And now, with her disappearance looming over the city, the thought that she might never come back clawed at his chest.
What if she was gone for good? What if his inaction had sealed her fate?
"Jack, you alright?" Rachel's voice broke through his fog, concern lacing her tone, though there was an undercurrent of something else, something sharp.
He forced a smile. "Yeah, just... tired. Long day."
But Rachel wasn't fooled. She studied him for a moment, then turned back to her notes. "Uh-huh. And what's with the brooding, Jack? You're practically giving off 'I'm-a-lone-wolf' vibes. Seriously though, if you're gonna sulk, at least do it with some style."
Her tone was teasing, but her eyes never left the board, scanning the scribbles like she had a photographic memory.
Jack didn't have the energy to banter back, though he did give a weak chuckle.
"Levanzo's connected to the cult," Alastor's voice brought Jack back to the present. "He's targeting Thompson, trying to use him as leverage."
The words clicked in Jack's brain, snapping him into action. "Levanzo... a high-ranking member?" His voice carried an edge of urgency. "He's dangerous, Al. We need to move quickly."
Alastor nodded. "That's the plan." His eyes met Jack's, and for a moment, they exchanged an understanding. The cult wasn't waiting for them—they were already one step ahead.
Later that night, as the team wrapped up their meeting, Jack found himself in the hallway alone, unable to face the war room and its reminders of his failures. He heard footsteps approaching, and turned to find Rachel.
"Jack?"
He sighed, turning to face her. "Yeah?"
"Can we talk?" She stepped closer, her eyes searching his.
"About what?" Jack asked, trying to brush it off.
"About you. You've been off tonight. What's going on?"
Jack hesitated, his throat tight. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped, unsure how to explain. His hands trembled as he finally found the words. "Back in Queens, when the shooting happened... I froze. I didn't do anything. People died because of me. And now with Sarah Lee… she's gone, Rachel. She's just gone. And I feel like I could've done something—anything—to stop this."
Rachel's teasing demeanor dropped. Her expression softened, but she didn't speak right away. She stepped forward, her voice still light but firm. "Jack, you don't need to keep carrying that weight. You froze, okay. Not everyone's a hero every damn time. But you're still here. You're still breathing. And trust me, the way you've been beating yourself up—it's not helping. So stop wallowing. You're with us now, right? And we all make mistakes. You'll have your moment. But it's not about being perfect—it's about showing up when it counts."
Jack shook his head. "I don't want to just wait for my moment. I want to do something. I want to act. Anything."
Rachel let out a little snort of amusement. "Oh, now you want to act? You've been sulking about it for hours, and now you want to make it right in five minutes?" She shook her head, but there was a teasing smirk on her face. "You can't rush this stuff, Jack. But don't worry, I'm not going to leave you hanging. You'll figure it out."
Her words hung in the air, and Jack could see that beneath her teasing, there was sincerity. It was just... her way of dealing with things. And in a strange way, it made him feel a bit lighter. At least she wasn't treating him like some fragile glass doll.
Before they could continue, Rachel glanced over at Emily, who had been listening quietly nearby. Rachel motioned for her to join them, and Emily came over.
"Hey, you good?" Rachel asked, her voice softening.
Emily nodded, though her eyes still held a deep concern. "Yeah. Just trying to keep it together. But I noticed you've been off lately too. What's going on, Rachel?"
Rachel glanced at Jack, then looked back at Emily. "It's… all this cult business. I'm just not getting it. Levanzo's connected to Thompson, trying to use him as leverage, right? But my brother was already dead by the time they were involved with him. I don't understand why they'd target him or me. Why would they kill him if we didn't even know Alastor or Thompson then?"
Emily frowned, processing the confusion. "That doesn't make sense. If your brother wasn't part of all this, why is he caught up in it now? There's something we're missing here."
Rachel nodded, frustration clouding her face. "Exactly. And it's not just the cult. It's everything. Why are we even involved? I don't know where we fit into all of this."
Jack, who had been listening quietly, turned to Rachel. "We'll figure it out. You're not alone in this. We'll get to the bottom of it together."
Rachel managed a faint smile, though the worry was still evident in her eyes. "I hope so."
The team was in the field again, this time investigating Mr. Thompson's location. After the message targeting Alastor, it became clear that anyone connected to him—especially people like Thompson and Rachel—was now in danger. The cult didn't care about family ties. They saw threats in anyone who could be used against them, and with Thompson's past involvement with Alastor, he was now marked.
The team moved quickly, their sense of urgency mounting. If they didn't act fast, Thompson would disappear, another casualty in the cult's twisted game.
Jack froze, his heart hammering in his chest. This was it. His mind went back to Queens, to the terror he had felt. The panic.
Not again. Please, not again.
But then, his eyes locked onto Rachel. She was moving quickly, efficiently, ducking behind cover and firing with precision. Jack could hear the sharp crack of her shots as she took down two agents without hesitation.
"Jack! Now!" Rachel's voice cut through his fog of indecision. She was already moving again, reloading and taking down another agent.
The world around Jack seemed to slow, and time stretched out. His heart thudded in his chest as he stood there, a moment of terror paralyzing him. But then he snapped to attention. The fear—while still there—fueled him now. The sound of gunfire and the battle cries of his teammates brought him back.
Rachel, her eyes focused, signaled him forward.
"Go!" she shouted again.
Jack's hand trembled as he finally raised his gun, but this time, he wasn't frozen. He acted. His shot rang out, hitting the nearest agent. The fear was still there, gnawing at him, but now there was clarity. He moved with purpose, staying close to Rachel as they worked in sync, clearing out more agents. It wasn't perfect—he wasn't perfect—but he was here, and he was fighting.
Suddenly, a loud shout rang out from Derek's direction. Jack turned just in time to see a cult agent taking aim at him from behind, his weapon pointed straight at Jack's chest. Everything seemed to freeze.
In the blink of an eye, Jack felt something brush past him—faster than he could track—and the agent crumpled to the ground before he even pulled the trigger. Jack's breath hitched, his eyes wide. He hadn't seen who moved, but he knew it was too fast for anyone else to react.
Alastor stood nearby, his expression calm, his eyes unblinking, but there was something strange in his gaze as he glanced briefly at Jack. He didn't say a word, but Jack could feel the subtle shift in the air, the unspoken truth that someone had just saved him.
Derek, however, noticed it. His eyes flicked toward Alastor, but he didn't comment. Instead, his hand shook slightly as he reloaded, a brief moment of hesitation flashing across his face before he gave a curt nod to himself. It was almost imperceptible—his usual cold precision was undercut by something darker, a lingering uncertainty that he didn't allow to surface fully.
"Cover left!" Derek barked, pulling Jack from his thoughts.
Jack snapped to action, ducking behind a dumpster as a barrage of gunfire rained down on them. He fired a quick shot, hitting another agent, and noticed Derek flanking to the other side, his movements precise but with a strange calmness that felt almost... detached.
"Keep it tight!" Emily's voice rang out from behind him. She was crouched low, taking out another agent from a distance with her sniper rifle. Despite the intensity, she moved with a calm, calculating demeanor, ensuring their team stayed coordinated.
"On your six, Jack!" Emily added, keeping a steady pace as she moved to provide cover.
Jack took a breath, his mind sharpening. The team was working like a well-oiled machine, and it was all starting to click into place. Everyone had their part, their role. They weren't just surviving this—they were dominating it.
As the last agent crumpled to the ground, Jack stood there, panting, his heart racing, but his mind clearer than it had been in days. The action had snapped him out of his fog. He had done something.
Alastor, ever the calm strategist, clapped him on the back. "Good work, Jack. You acted when it counted."
Jack nodded, his breath steadying. He wasn't perfect, and he wasn't without fear. But this time, he had done his part.
As the team regrouped, Rachel gave him a small smile. "Well, look at you, Mr. Hero," she teased, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't freeze, after all. Who knew?"
Jack gave a small nod in return, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Guess I'm full of surprises."
Rachel winked. "I wouldn't say 'full.' But hey, for tonight? You're good."
And for the first time in a while, Jack believed it.