Disclaimer: I do not own Flight 29 Down.

I Suppose

Jackson sat beneath a tree, alone. He had his hood up and looked around. Everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. Everyone was freaking out now that Abby had returned. She was fine, now, so he didn't understand the big deal about her return.

He looked up as someone sat next to him. Speak of the devil. He silently looked at her. She watched the water, not looking at him. He looked away, unsure of what to say. Things had been tense between them since she had come back.

"How are you and Melissa doing?" she asked finally.

"There is no me and Melissa," Jackson replied. She was silent for a moment.

"Oh. Sorry. I just assumed that since you two hung out so much and from the way everyone talks that you were…together," she replied with a shrug.

Jackson didn't reply. He didn't have a response. There was no him and Melissa. He was just friends with her, nothing more and nothing less. She was the first to speak to him, other than Lex, and that had created some kind of bond. He didn't want to ruin that, considering his past.

"People judge you, Jackson, because you don't allow them to actually get to know you. You were the new kid with a scary vide, of course people would judge," Abby told him. Jackson looked down, a memory coming back to him.

"I'm going out," Jackson called to his foster mom as he went down the steps and towards the door.

"Wait a minute, Cody. It's nearly dark. Where do you have to go that's so important that it can't wait until tomorrow?" Betty asked, appearing at the door as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel.

"Homework," Jackson replied lamely. Lately, that had been his excuse to go meet up with his friends. "My curfew isn't until eleven."

"Still, it's nearly dark. I don't want you walking or taking the bus after dark," she said. Jackson sighed. If only he could drive.

"I'll catch a cab," he replied and ducked out the door without another word.

Jackson jogged down the block to where his friends were parked. He got into the backseat with Cole, Jake, and Eric. Jamie and Chance were up front. He glanced at their expecting faces without a word. Chance pressed the gas and they pulled away from the curb.

Jackson looked out the window and watched the city go by. He suspected they were going to the park like always. They always hung out there because no one was there after dark. Most people were afraid of people like Jackson's friends hung out there. Maybe they were right to think that. Jackson used to think like that, too.

Chance pulled up at the park and they all clambered out. Jackson did think the location had a bad thing about it, though. When the sun went down, all the party-goers and drug dealers came out. The park was a prime location for them. Really, it was a prime location for anyone.

Jackson walked behind the others as Chance pulled out a lighter and lit a cigarette. Jackson made a face. He'd wished, ever since he met Chance, that he would quit that habit. He didn't see that happening, however. Chance was just one of those people.

"We good?" Chance asked, looking at them. Jackson glanced around.

"We're good," Jamie replied.

"Good," Chance replied. He pulled something from his pocket and the others looked at it.

Jackson took an involuntary step back. It was a knife. Chance had brought a knife. He looked at the others, but they were all ogling at it. Of course. Jackson was the youngest, but he had the most common sense.

"What's that for?" Jackson asked, speaking up. They all looked at him.

"Karma, kid," Jamie replied. Jackson merely nodded and exchanged looks with Cole. They were the youngest, with Cole only being nineteen. He wasn't sure anymore.

"Cole!" Jackson heard himself shout. He didn't remember running across the park to Cole.

He fell to his knees and looked helplessly at the bleeding boy. Cole had managed to yank the knife from his stomach, and had tried to stop the bleeding with his shirt. The shirt was already soaked with blood. Jackson knew that if Cole didn't get help, he wouldn't live.

Jackson wished he had a cell phone. He felt Cole's pockets. He was phoneless as well. Jackson didn't want to leave him, but he had to get help. He ran to the payphone and shoved some quarters in it. He explained what had happened the best way he could to the operator before turning and going back to Cole.

Cole died that night. Jackson had left as soon as the paramedics had arrived. So far, they had all gotten away without getting caught. Jackson wasn't entirely sure what to expect when he got back. He was kind of happy to be stranded. The longer he was there, the longer he was away from being there. He was afraid to go back.

"You're not guilty," Abby said quietly. Jackson jumped. He'd been so caught up in his story that he hadn't realized that she was still there.

"Yeah, but it was still a crime scene. The guy died, Abby. How can the cops not look for the culprits?" he asked, looking at her.

"There's no proof. If the people at the park really were what you said, then there's no way they'd remember what they had for supper, let along what they saw in the park."

"I saw and I didn't call the cops," Jackson muttered. She put a hand on his arm.

"You were trying to help your friend, Jackson. You weren't focused on who did it, but rather on getting Cole help. It was the right thing at the time.

"I suppose."

"Don't suppose, say I'm right," she said.

"You're impossible to argue with, you know?"" he asked. She grinned.

"Yeah, I know," she replied, still grinning.