The memories of Yharnam plagued his mind, the scars fresh as spilt blood. He was one of the many Hunters Gehrman had guided along, in search of the Paleblood to cure himself of the feverish dreams he knew he could not stop.

He was an editor before the Hunter's Dream consumed him. He had little fighting instinct for all instinct he had called for his retreat. Yet he somehow managed to slay countless Beasts and Hunters, all misguided and deformed by the Old Blood.

Gehrman, however, was one he could not best. With no escape and choice, he had been greeted by the old man, and presented with two choices that would lead to his death. He could accept Gehrman's offer to die, or he could fight the First Hunter.

He had died countless times to lesser beings before just managing to best them with experience from before. He did not have this privilege then.

He recalled the face of the Doll as he knelt in the soft, moist dirt. It still held its usual smooth stoic expression, yet somehow he saw a tinge of sadness, or sorrow.

"Goodbye, Good Hunter." Gehrman muttered under his breath, as the scythe rose above his head.

Flashes of the past blinked through his mind, as he closed his eyes and waited for death. Light hearted conversations and philosophical debates that he once had with his mentor rang in his ears, and the soothing music of the ringing bells echoed in the back of his head.

He opened his eyes, and smiled at his friend. An air of solemn understanding permeated between them.

"Fear the Blood." They chorused, before the blade came down upon his neck.

That was the last he recalled of the Hunter's Dream. He woke in a hospital, startled awake from the scythe lobbing his head off his shoulders, and the beeping of the machines that greeted him unnerved him slightly. A needle was inserted into his left arm, attached to an IV bag of transparent liquid. The lack of crimson allowed him to relax, and he sunk into the warm sheets under him.

He laid in the bed and watched the frantic movement outside his window. The rapid steps and loud talking made him anxious. Noises were tell tale signs of Beasts lurking about, and he was only garbed in a thin robe that offered no resistance.

No, he reminded himself, this is the Waking World. There are no monsters and no Blood to fear. He had to consciously relax his clenched fists, and pushed himself further into the bed. The smell of antiseptic and medicine cemented this fact. Yharnam didn't have such scents. His eyebrows furrowed as he realised that his sense of smell was rather diminished, seeing how he couldn't pick up on a distinct taste of death in the air that should have been concentrated in a hospital.

A pair of women that caught his eyes walked past his room windows, and the shorter one told the taller one to stay outside, judging by how the shorter one seemed to hold her hand at the taller one. No, he chided himself as the memories of the short one surfaced, that was his mother.

She stepped into the room, and the two stared at each other for a moment.

"Hi mom." He croaked out. His voice was dry and gravelly, from disuse and thirst. Her blue eyes watered as she took swift steps to him, and threw her arms around him.

His ingrained instincts to push her away and fire his blunderbuss at her screamed against him in that particular moment, but he bit down on his tongue before raising his own arms. The very action of lifting his arms made him exhausted, and he was panting when he managed to return the hug.

His mother drew back, and her tears were stained with mascara. The way the black liquid seemed to leak out of her eyes reminded him of the Hunters he had to kill in Yharnam, and again he pushed down the reflex to fight.

"Jack." Her voice had relief wafting through, and he gave a weak smile.

His mother caught him up on what he had missed out in his coma. She still held the position she loved in CatCo, and still had issues with her secretaries, from what he could see when she talked to her newest secretary who made a few blunders.

"Mom, lay off of her. She still hasn't received your weekly schedule from your previous secretary." His deadpan expression halted any protest from his mother, before she succumbed.

"Alright fine." She stared away from him, gaze turned to the window of the limousine. Her version of a pout, a voice snickered in his mind. He gave her a small smile, before giving an apologetic smile to the secretary. Kara, if he remembered correctly.

"If she gives you any trouble just tell me and I'll sort her out." He stage whispered, and the blonde secretary gave a small laugh before being silenced by the glare given by his mother.

"And you," His mother withered under his pointed glare above his glasses, "Don't give her any unwarranted trouble missus or I will guilt trip you like never before." He raised his cane menacingly from the car seat beside him.

She uttered something under her breath but nodded regardless. His eyes softened a little as he looked at his mother. She was undoubtedly slightly bitter.

"She's a good kid mom." He lowered his voice so that only she would hear him. "And she's trying her best. Give her a chance alright?" He reached out with his hand, and only managed to squeeze her own weakly. Her hardened exterior melted slightly, but regained its sharp edge when she glared at her assistant.

"Only because you asked for her." Her clipped words tried to be authoritative, yet it held little heat, especially when he gave her a warm smile in thanks.

The limousine stopped in front of the skyscraper that was CatCo, and its CEO stepped out of the door.

"Take him back home John." She simply said to the driver, before closing the door behind her. Her secretary seemed awkward as the car started to drive off, Jack noticed.

"Sorry about mom. She's just trying to make you better, even if it seems like she hates you at times." He apologised softly between shallow breaths. His body was still unaccustomed to moving, and the earlier exchange was a strain on himself.

"Oh its no problem," she floundered when he gave a small laugh. "I just wished she wasn't so..." Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words to use in front of her boss's son.

"Hard assed?" He offered, getting a laugh from her.

"Well, yeah." Kara's form sunk into the soft leather seat. "I just can't help but feel like I'm getting screwed over by her just for existing you know?" Her voice held a slight whining tone to it that he could empathise with. He nodded, agreeing with her.

After all, it was thanks to her intense personality that he managed to go through university, and managed to have gotten his degree in psychology and physics, even if she didn't agree with his choice of courses.

They passed by a fast food joint, and he could almost taste the food just by looking at it. The months in Yharnam had left him craving for food because of its scarcity, and now he had a way to get what he desired. He turned his eyes to Kara, and he knew she felt that something was amiss.

"Are you hungry, Ms. Denvers?"

"By the Blood." He muttered under his breath as he watched the girl in front of him devour at least ten donuts by herself. She blushed slightly when she heard him, but he didn't care and continued to stare.

"John tell me, can you finish that many in one go?" He mock whispered to the chauffeur, who was also in equal amounts of amazement. The portly old man shook his head, and the girl blushed even more.

"We must not inform Madame Grant about this," The elder gentleman spoke in amused fear, "As she would begin her pestering of Miss Denvers to pry any dieting plans from her."

Jack found himself agreeing with a chuckle that left him winded. "She would go mental."

The limousine stopped by a towering building of glass, and after his time in Yharnam, the sight of which made Jack slightly anxious. The vehicle drove off, and the two stood by the sidewalk of the road.

A cane was brought by the elderly driver, provided to and Jack leaned heavily on it as he shakily limped his way into the building. Kara had been sent a message by her boss, telling her to take the day off from the office to take care of her son, and to make sure he didn't get injured again.

He found Kara's company to be enjoyable, a luxury he could not have afforded in Yharnam. The frenzied Beasts and crazed citizens offered little consolation in his isolation. Gehrman and the Doll offered the most company, and he needed to die or use a Mark to see them.

Kara shadowed him, just to make sure he would not fall if he felt too exhausted. His entropied limbs managed to bring him to the lifts, and they waited in silence for the lift to arrive.

"What happened to you?" Kara was the first to break the silence. She flinched slightly when he glanced at her.

"I fell and hit my head." Jack said tiredly, and he knew how absurd it sounded, but it was the truth. Well, half truth, he mused, as she did not know of what he went through in the Hunter's Dream, and neither would she want to know. That would make him sound mad, and he would be sent to an asylum if he spoke of what happened to him.

"Just like that?" She expressed skepticism. He blew air softly out of his nose in slight annoyance as he bit his lip.

"Yes." He groused. He could see why his mom would torture her now. She could not hide her curiousity and doubts. Or simply put, she had no tact. But tact could be learnt, so he forced himself to be less irritated with her.

The lift doors parted, and they stepped into the small box together. He felt wary being in a small area, for it was in these circumstances where he would be ambushed by smaller Beasts, but he tried to suppress the feeling. His heart started to race, and he could feel blood rushing from his head. He saw the world swaying yet he felt nothing.

A muffled voice reached him, and he looked down to see Kara above him. No, he squinted, she was squatting besides him and he was lying on his back.

Well that's weird, he thought, he was standing earlier. The bright light above seemed blinding, and made him dizzy just before he became unconscious.

"-against my express wishes-"

"-entropy due to-"

"-take care of-"

He woke from a dreamless sleep, and felt quite groggy as he blindly groped around him. The crust in his eyes was bad enough, but the lack of glasses made his vision quite horrid.

"You're awake!" A voice boomed beside him, and he flinched at the loud noise. His arms flew to protect his face and torso, expecting an attack, but a soothing voice along with a hand stroking his back hesitantly made him less wary of a Beast.

"You're safe now. You fainted in the lift, and I had to carry you out of it." He found his glasses pressed against his hand as she continued. "The doctors said that it could be because your body isn't used to moving yet, or because your blood pressure is too low. You're on a drip-" At the mention of blood, his eyes widened and his breath quickened, and he scanned his arms for a needle. Finding one in his left arm, he tried to rip it out, but a firm hand grasped his right hand before he could.

"NO NO BLOOD BLOOD IS BAD NO NO NO NO NO NO GET IT OUT GET IT OUT NO I DON'T WANT IT NO-"

"It seems that he has a traumatic experience with blood, Miss Grant." The doctor spoke in hush tones as a mother stroked her son's unconscious face that was frozen in terror.

"We believe it may be due to the injury he had before he came in." He reasoned, but still her attention was focused on her son.

"Miss Grant?" The doctor prompted. She glared at him, and he promptly kept quiet.

Her hand stroked his face, a somber look staring at her son. She was there, and saw how he had broken down at the mere mention of blood. It was way more traumatic than anything from a simple injury, one that he couldn't even see any blood because he was knocked out before the blood flowed out of his wound.

She remembered what the doctors told her, and she remembered feeling immensely relieved that he couldn't remember that he was bleeding badly. The pool of blood that his head laid in traumatised her for weeks after the accident.

"What happened to you?"

Her whisper went unanswered, with only the drips from within the IV bag chiming in the silence.