There’s no comfort in reality for Jack. Twenty-four hours a day he stands here in the heat and noise and stink of the Valiant’s engine room, the chains around his wrists keeping him upright. He can’t sit down or even kneel, and his shoulders scream from the strain. Sometimes, if he falls asleep from exhaustion or passes out from pain, his arms get pulled from their sockets. They always heal again, but he has to stand on his tiptoes for that to happen.
The only comfort he has is in dreams, and the knowledge that his team is still free.