Chapter Text
"Fore!"
Jax swung his iron and sent a bright red Christmas bauble flying through the tent. It bounced off the side of a hanging pipe, rebounded off the many miscellaneous cubes, and landed inside a spiralling halfpipe. It travelled down, down, further down, and- well. It spent a while doing that. It'll get there eventually. Give it a minute.
In the meantime, far down below, a mere red spec on the black-and-white floor of the tent, Ragatha sat happily. She sat with her legs crossed across from Pomni, holding a teacup conversationally. It was empty, because though the circus had many things, a real kitchen was never one of them, but it looked conversational. You can't just sit facing someone without at least acting like you're eating or drinking. It's awkward. Pomni had taken over in the conversation - a rare treat - and Ragatha pretended to sip.
An ornament flew out of a pipe and shattered directly on top of Ragatha's head.
"What do you know? Hole in one," Jax quipped, considering his golf club proudly before lining up his next shot.
They had no golf balls - yes, they had a club, but no balls, you get used to it - but Caine had neglected to clean up after his last Christmas-themed manic episode, and so, there was always a surplus of ornaments. He squinted, inching along the edge of the platform a ways above the stage where he went when he wanted to see without being seen. It was his own little spot, not because no one could go there, but because no one had a reason to and did have a damn good reason not to.
"Jax!" Ragatha cried. Yeah, that reason.
"Fore!"
Another swing sent his 'ball' flying widely to the right, smashing against an indescribable, vaguely toy-shaped thing the size of a house. Jax rolled his eyes in a 'what can you do!' sort of way, lining up another ball which again went off course. He looked down at his captive audience as he adjusted his grip. Ragatha had risen halfway out of her chair, hands raised over her head like a storm was bearing down on her. Pomni, meanwhile, was rushing away, only to nearly get struck by another ornament and forced to double back. She made a good effort trying to hide beneath the table, but still left her hat poking out.
That was what Jax called an expert difficulty hole.
He scooched backwards, and then-
"Fore!"
He missed his target, but not the table she was hiding beneath. His 'ball' came down as a shower of fragmented glass, earning a pathetic squeal from Pomni. She was fun when she was cornered like that.
"It's alright, you just... stay under there and - Jax!" Ragatha yelled, spinning around, "if you hit her-" she began, as much to reassure Pomni as to threaten Jax.
"I'll be proud of myself," Jax countered, "Fore!"
It was off course this time. That was no guarantee Pomni would be so lucky the next ten times, and there would be another ten times. Jax was in one of his particular moods where he found a goal to his tormenting, rather than just stopping when he got bored after a few minutes. When Jax got a goal in his head, he had a level of patience that could be called admirable. Could be, because you wouldn't find anyone in the circus who'd ever say that.
"You should be proud of me too, Rags - that's just good sportsmanship. Fore!"
It was a game to him, and Jax always won his games. He'd hit Ragatha once; he was going for the full tea set.
"I'll- Ooooh," Ragatha hissed and rose fully from her chair, letting it fall as she walked away
Jax smiled - more so than usual - as Ragatha stomped away, one arm still raised defensively above her head. Jax considered shooting a shot her way, but decided against it. He'd already won that hole. He focused his attention back on Pomni again and settled into a rhythm. So deep in the rhythm did he become, that he never noticed that Ragatha had disappeared.
After all - what could Ragatha do?
"Fore!," Thwack, hit the back wall. No good.
"Fore!," Thwack, undershot, shattered on the floor. Better, but room for improvement.
"Fore!," Thwack, smashed against the table. Real progress.
"Fore!," Nothing.
Wait, nothing?
Jax stumbled slightly as his club met only empty air, steadying as he saw Ragatha standing behind him. Here? She came up here. Oh, and that look on her face - head tilted down, eyes staring up cast in slight shadow beneath her head, paper mouth drawn into a long line. That was the scariest look Jax had seen her wear in a long, long time. Maybe ever. Jax liked when Ragatha tried to be scary, mostly because he got his kicks watching other people fail.
After all - what could Ragatha do?
Sitting beside Ragatha's foot, there was the ornament that'd been destined for somewhere around Pomni's head. Jax sighed, rolling his head on his shoulders dramatically as he began towards the big pile of ammunition behind her. Apparently, Ragatha was trying to make one of her "dramatic interventions" out of this, which was something she was usually far too non-confrontational to try, but earned her brownie points with some of the newbies whenever they showed up, so Jax figured that's why she did it with him.
"Would you just stop?" Ragatha appealed, for God knows what reason.
"Happy you came to watch my swing, but think you could take a step back?" Jax's eyes shrunk into malicious slits, "Wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."
Jax stopped when Ragatha stepped in front of him, blocking his path with a look that tried so hard to be defiant. Jax moved left, then right, and Ragatha moved with him.
"Why are you so obsessed with tormenting Pomni? She's done nothing to you."
"Duh, no one can do anything to me. I'm an equal opportunity guy like that," Jax shrugged, scratching his back with the head of his club, "I know you're old, but you really need to get with the times! You can't discriminate these days."
Ragatha stepped in as Jax tried a quick move to the side, his expression less entertained by the minute. He'd obviously found her trying to get in his way to be entertaining - the first few times. He'd grown bored of it, in the same way he'd inevitably grow bored of this golfing gimmick, and in the same way he'd grown bored of the guns, and the swords, and the chainsaw juggling, and all the other million things he'd roped Caine into letting him do to them, because Caine had the foresight of a child and Jax the mercy of a hyena. Finally, he grimaced, his free hand whipping forward and grabbing Ragatha by her semblance of a chin.
She leaned away, but he closed the distance, his face inches from hers.
"I like 'tormenting Pomni' because she puts up a fight, but always loses," He half-whispered, tone not conspiratorial so much as consigned, as if he really didn't care to explain himself but she'd forced his hand, "I like a struggle. Makes it more fun than just lying down and taking it like some sad sack of ribbons."
He squished Ragatha's cheeks and threw her head back, sending the rest of her body lagging behind it as she rubbed the space his glove had held like it was a throbbing bruise. He stood with his head tilted owlishly in front of her.
"You like a struggle? You're..." Ragatha looked him up and down with a wild, wide-eyed expression, "That's awful!"
"Some feedback, you know?" He shrugged, "I like a fight."
"You - you, you... you." Ragatha repeated, raising one hand accusingly at him. "You only like it when you win!"
"Pff," He rolled his eyes, "I always win. Speaking of!"
Jax swooped down, and for a moment Ragatha genuinely believed he was going to heave her up and chuck her off the edge, or else just yank her hair and toss her aside. Instead, he snatched between her feet and spun around, bouncing the ornament in one hand as he got back into position. He hardly bothered to look at her as he wiggled his hips and lined up another shot.
After all - what could Ragatha do?
"Fore!" Thwap.
Thwap?
Jax felt his hands trembling. He'd been caught mid-swing, club snatched right out of the air by a single one of Ragatha's oversized hands. He stared at her wide-eyed, then put on a daring smile that was a little unconvincing.. Ragatha countered with a look caught between surprise, fear, and deep, cathartic excitement, as if she'd just punched an old playground bully. Maybe the 'punching the bully' comparison was more accurate than she knew.
Jax threw his weight down and tried to ram the head into her stomach, but Ragatha snapped back to the real world in time to catch it. Now with both of her hands wrapped around his club, all Jax's wrestling could only shake her grip, not break it. He let out a groan that was absolutely not meant to be audible, and supressed a mortified expression to instead look furiously ahead. Ragatha recognized a devious twinkle in his square eyes, and as he lifted his foot to sweep her legs out from under her, she-
Well.
She threw him.
Yeah. She reached out, grabbed his torso, grabbed the middle of his club, and yanked it as hard as she could. He held on desperately for a moment - not seeming to realize that his feet were moving with him - before he lost his hold and went flying a few feet, landing on shaking legs and hobbling a few steps before tumbling onto his side. Ragatha stumbled a bit too, but not because of him - she'd pulled so hard, she went tumbling back once he gave in. It was like she'd yanked something rusted shut of a wall and flew back once it finally came loose.
She stared wide-eyed at what she'd done. On the floor across from her, heaving himself up on his elbows, Jax looked at her the same way.
It hit them at exactly the same time; Ragatha was stronger than Jax. Far stronger. Hold-him-off-with-one-hand stronger. Pick-him-up-and-throw-him stronger.
A few things happened at more or less the same time. Let's start with what happened to Ragatha.
Ragatha wanted to scream. She dropped the club to the ground and it clattered loudly, immediately forgotten, as she used her hands to instead scrape madly through her hair. She looked quickly from side-to-side, at once wanting to turn and run and go down to see Pomni and spill her guts about what had happened, but also wanting to keep running and running and getting clear of the circus tent where she could find a nice place to hide for a hundred years, but also seeing Jax on the ground looking at her with an unreadable, shocked expression and wanting to run over to him and pick him up and apologize and tell him everything was alright and that he actually looked really cute crawling around on all-fours and actually he kind of looked cute all the time he just didn't wear it well and oh God she was sorry for thinking that and-
In the end, she chose an inbetween option. She made it a few steps towards Jax, reached her hands out hesitantly, drew away, and ran off with her head pitched down and a shameful blush spreading across her face.
Now about Jax.
Jax had no heart - that isn't to speak metaphorically about souls and whether people are inherently good-natured or not. Those are matters of philosophy. This was a matter of computer science. Jax literally had not been made with a heart in his chest. Just like he hadn't been made with a stomach or lungs or a pancreas, despite the fact he could breathe and eat and... yeah, just those two things, more or less. There was no thrum in his ears, there was no blood pumping through his nonexistent veins, there was nothing.
But somehow, Jax's heart skipped a beat. After all - what could Ragatha do?