"Life goes on"
By: LonelyInvisible

Pat had read all of her father's papers, every one of them, and it had been Jack McGee's fanciful stories that had always caught her attention. They were beautiful, detailed and realistic; and she'd always wanted to believe them and now she did. The Hulk was no longer a fairy tale giant, he was real, and she'd seen him with her own eyes.

"Pat?" McGee put a hand on her shoulder, startling her. "What are you thinking about?" He looked down at her sitting on the bed as he stood still. She looked up at him, pushing her full, brown curls from her eyes and smiled.

"Yes, Jack, I'm fine." She smiled tiredly at him, and he couldn't blame her. He'd hardly been able to register seeing the Hulk for the first time. At least now he knew that the editor, Pat, believed him. He was no longer an obsessed lunatic to her, he was a rational reporter.

"You didn't answer me. I asked what you were thinking about?" He put his hand under her chin and held it lightly there, putting no pressure on her skin. He could tell she used facial moisturizer, and her shampoo smelled of lilacs. Jack could feel the rough, calloused skin on his fingers rubbing against her soft face, and he let his hand down a little, afraid to mar Pat's perfect complexion. To his surprise, she closed her eyes and sighed, as she dropped her head into his hand, and he could feel the silkiness of her hair.

"I was thinking," she sighed resignedly, "about what you've shown me today. The impossibility of it all, and there it was, right in front of me." She lifted her head, and motioned to the empty space ahead of her. "Jack, it was impossible, but you found it, you found him."

"I know." He sat down on the comforter next to her, trying to put as much weight on his feet so he couldn't move the bed, but it creaked loudly anyways.

"But how is it possible?" She looked at him, her eyes slowly misting, and glazing as she thought about the man that Jack chased. "What is it like to live like that?" Jack stared into her eyes as his started to waver, and his jaw tightened.

"I," his voice caught in his throat and he choked on it for a minute, "I don't know, but I want to help him. To find out how Doctor Banner is connected, and what made this man the way he is." The comforter shuffled as they moved to face each other, but Pat kept her shoulder pointed at him and looked over it at Jack.

"Jack, did you ever wonder, what your chasing might do to him?" She sniffed, as Jack watched her face grow soft; quite the change from the hardened young woman he had ridden to the refinery with.

"I know it troubles him, but I can't stop Pat. I could never live with myself if someone else was hurt at his hands. I just couldn't go on like that. I don't know how he does it." Jack moved his hand as his fingers touched hers. Her hand was shaking, and she wrapped her fingers around his. He helped steady her hand as he held it firmly in his strong grip, the same one that had gripped the handle of a gun not a few hours ago, ready to stop the Hulk, and his reign of terror he had on the country, and Jack's psyche. They both looked down at the tangled fingers and laughed airily.

"I'd better get ready to go to bed. I have a meeting tomorrow when we get back, and I can't miss it." She stood up from the bed and walked into the bathroom and locked the door. Jack looked at the wooden paneling after her, and sat still. He heard the shower start, and began to think of how beautiful she was, with her long curly hair and exploring eyes.

"It'd never work." He whispered, and tugged off his sweaty suit, and pulled on a clean t-shirt and pair of shorts. Jack opened the comforter and grabbed the remote, clicking through the sparse channels, and eventually turned the TV back off. He sat in bed with the remote in his hand, and listened to the water running in the shower. The room was quiet, with only the bedside lamp to light the room as he heard Pat's wet feet slap the cold tile, and then the clatter of plastic bottles. Jack imagined her putting on a facial, with her hair in curlers and cucumbers over her eyes, and started to laugh at himself.

"Jack? What's so funny?" Pat's head stuck out of the doorway, her pajamas consisting of a loose shirt and pants. Her face was clear of the green colored mud Jack had imagined, and her hair dripped down her shirt, making it cling to her body and back as she slid into her own, separate bed. She lay on her side, and held her head in her hand as she looked at him expectantly.

"Nothing. It was nothing." He fought his fit of laughter at her sweet, unblemished face and turned his back to her, and closed his eyes. As always the Hulk was there, waiting in all his great, green bulk, but Jack could feel the ability to fight the monster off this night, and sleep soundly.

"Good night, Jack." Pat whispered and flopped onto her back, putting her hands behind her wet head and staring at the ceiling. The fan above her bed spun slowly and deliberately as she followed a single paddle in its endless circle until her eyelids became too heavy to keep open.

In the middle of the night, Pat heard Jack talking in his sleep as he tossed from side to side, mumbling about the Hulk.

"No, please, go away. Go away!" He nearly shouted as he gritted his teeth, and Pat watched his body tense in the dark room, grabbing the edges of the bed, trying to squirm from an unseen threat.

"Jack? Jack!" She nearly fell out of bed and kneeled on the floor, putting her manicured hand on his forehead, trying to wake him.

"Pat! My god, Pat! Get out!" He begged in his hallucination, as Jack watched Pat standing in the back of the hotel room as the Hulk threw McGee into the wall. Jack couldn't believe the Hulk had tracked them to the hotel, and was about to hurt Pat.

"Jack, help me!" She cried as the Hulk stood over her as she slunk to the ground in the corner she had been pinned in. Jack stood up, setting his hand on a gun on the counter and aimed at the Hulk. The massive green man turned on McGee, and he shot, the creature instantly slumping to the ground on top of Pat. Jack ran over to her and managed to roll the body off of her, to find her eyes wide with horror, and dead.

"Pat! No!" He picked up her body and held it in his arms, stroking the hair that still smelled of lilacs. "Pat, don't leave me!" He cried into her hair as he rocked back and forth.

"Jack, wake up, it's only a dream." Pat finally started to get a response after Jack had begged her to not leave. His lids fluttered when they snapped open and he looked at her, petrified. His limbs stiffened, as his breathing slowed a little, realizing he'd been dreaming.

"Pat, are you alright?" He leaned over, loosening his arms enough to tilt his body onto its side.

"Of course I am." She smiled patiently as he caught his breath. "But are you okay?" She looked at him, both hardly able to actually see each other in the dark, only silhouettes.

"Yeah." He leaned over, and for some reason neither could explain later, they held each other as Jack's body heaved in relief. He kept her close, so she couldn't see his tears as the fell on her already wet shirt, and against her curling locks. He readjusted his grip on her two or three times as he took a breath of relief, when he suddenly broke out sobbing.

"Jack?" Pat held him tight, feeling the relief she was able to give him.

"Pat, I'm so sorry." His body heaved again, when he sniffed loudly and let go of her. "Pat, I think you know already, how I feel about you…"

"But it will never work, Jack. I care for you too, but not that much, and if we did get involved, it wouldn't be good for our careers." Jack smiled through his wet face and bloodshot eyes at her. He was barely able to make of the small lines of regret, but also happiness at being able to help him. He pulled her to him again and this time he slid out of the bed and onto the floor, holding her whole body against his.

"I know Pat. I know." They stayed on the floor exchanging comforts and embraces as they talked about Jack's following the Hulk, and Pat living with her father's reputation. After a while, Pat looked up at the clock and realized it was early in the morning.

"Jack, it's almost three. We've been talking since 11:30." She whispered as he looked at the small red glow in the dark, hardly able to read it through the haze of his exhaustion.

"So it is." His voice was hoarse, as he woke up his tingling legs and managed to sit on the edge of his bed, as Pat did the same. They were facing each other, in the dark, cold from having let each other go.

"Jack, how is this going to work?" Her shadow moved.

"Pat, you know it's not. I love you, but…" He looked towards the window behind him, as the bed sank next to him, and the back of his neck was hot with a small kiss. He remained staring out the window as Pat moved from her place next to him, and quietly shuffled in between her sheets. Jack sat still until he heard Pat snore lightly, bringing a smile to his lips. He stood up and bent over, smoothing the hair from her forehead putting a small kiss in the middle. Then he opened his own sheets again and wrapped them tight around his body, pinning his own arms to his side. Jack looked out the window as the lights of a car pulled through the parking lot, illuminating the thick drapes of cheap fabric, and passing over his eyes. He closed them as a ray sprang between the cloth, and found himself unable to open them again, lost in a calm and quiet rest.