Quick Key:
Anthony = Racetrack
Michael = Mush
Ryan = Kid Blink
Christopher = Crutchy
Gone.
He's gone.
"How are you holding up?" Anthony asked.
Jack didn't hear him. He was too busy looking at the familiar body in the coffin.
"Hey, Jack," Anthony said again, this time putting his hand on Jack's shoulder.
"Huh?" Jack exclaimed, surprised by the touch.
Pale.
So pale.
"He wanted me to give you this," Esther Jacobs said.
Jack gripped the folded up flag. He let his fingers slowly trace the seams.
"He loved you," Esther continued, looking up into Jack's eyes.
"Thank you," Jack whispered, tears once again streaking his cheeks.
Bitter.
Completely bitter.
"I'm cutting you off," the bartender said.
Jack gripped the glass tighter. He didn't want to loose his connection to reality.
"Do you need to call a ride?" The bartender asked, concern obvious.
"Probably best," Jack answered, his voice void of emotion.
Spinning.
Everything spinning.
"Jack, you can't live like this!" Michael exclaimed.
Jack sat on their couch. He was staring at a picture in his hands.
"He wouldn't want you too," Michael continued, the hard edge gone.
"I know," Jack answered, looking at the picture of David in his uniform.
Alone.
Always alone.
"Would you like to have dinner with us?" Les asked.
Jack looked at the boy. He was always shocked by how quickly the boy had aged.
"We're worried about you," Les added, sealing the answer.
"No, thanks," Jack answered, turning and walking away.
Silent.
Terribly silent.
"You're here again?" The caretaker inquired.
Jack visited the grave everyday. He did so to remind himself of his loss.
"You know that young soldier?" The caretaker continued, leaning on his rake.
"I did," Jack nodded, wishing his words were false.
Wrong.
Never wrong.
"He was writing an article," Denton mentioned.
Jack looked at him. He had found support in the older man.
"I want you to read it," Denton continued, handing him the draft.
"I will," Jack replied, taking the papers away.
Controversy.
A controversy.
"Quest for Queer Equality," a newsie cried.
Jack let a sad smile grace his face. He was shocked the paper had printed David's story.
"Buy a pape, mister?" The young newsie asked, looking at Jack with hopeful eyes.
"Yes please," Jack answered, giving the boy two bits.
Angry.
Very angry.
"You're an idiot, Jack!" Ryan screamed.
Jack just stayed silent. He wanted to scream and shout, also.
"Stop this right now!" Ryan continued, adding a shake for good measure.
"I can't," Jack answered, letting his eyes meet his friends.
Steel.
Cold steel.
"Here's the gun you wanted," the crook said.
Jack handed the other man the bundle of bills. He silently took the gun.
"Remember, ya didn't get it from me," the crook finished, beady eyes glancing about.
"Don't worry," Jack replied, knowing the gun only had one purpose.
Pain.
No pain.
"Why'd ya do it Jack," Christopher cried.
Jack was loosing a lot of blood. He was dimly aware of a cloth pressed against the wound.
"What have you gained?" Chris cried, his tears hitting Jack's cheek.
"Missed him," Jack replied, before taking his last breath.
Gone.
They're gone.
"I imagine they're together now," Anthony said.
'Jack Kelly', the new gravestone read. He had been added to David's marker.
"We can hope so," Anthony finished, his voice cracking.
"Goodbye, Cowboy," the group whispered, tipping their hats in respect.
Together.
Finally together.
"Was it worth it?" David asked.
Jack looked over at the love of his life. He was with the love of his life and death.
"I'd have waited" David continued, his tone telling the truth.
"Worth it," Jack answered, then gave the other man a kiss.
A.N.
This is the result of being bored out of your mind on the way home from pep-band. I actually managed to type this whole thing up in about 20 minutes. I'm quite proud of it.
I'd like to mention that, in my mind, Esther Jacobs is far more open about the relationship between Jack and David. I think she's more progressive.