MY HEART CAN'T GO ON

A/n: This is an angst/tragedy story about Jack and Karen's relationship. It contains descriptions of depression, drug use, and suicide. If you aren't in favor of these situations, or don't relish the idea of a romance between these characters, consider yourself warned. If you like this type of story, read on and get your hankies ready. Post a review if you liked it. Thanks!

CHAPTER 1

Karen sat at her desk in Grace's office. She had been filing her nails so absent-mindedly and vigorously in her reverie, that she suddenly gave a little cry, sticking a finger in her mouth. She had filed one all the way down to the cuticle.

"Anything wrong?" Grace asked, brushing back a wisp of her curly red hair as she looked up from the small mound of swatches in front of her.

"No, honey…nothing at all," Karen sighed withdrawing her finger and looking at it critically, like it could be blamed for her trouble. For comfort, she reached in her desk drawer and withdrew a bottle, uncorked it and poured the contents into the seldom-empty cocktail glass awaiting her attention on the desk. Karen sighed again and leaning back in her chair, took a long swallow from the goblet. Even this usual stimulant didn't buoy her flagging mood. She reached for a fashion magazine and flipped the pages disinterestedly. Suddenly he door of the studio flew open and Hurricane Jack blew in.

"So, Kare, where we goin' today for Wednesday lunch?" her friend inquired, twisting at the waist in eager anticipation.

"Is it Wednesday already?" Karen said blinking in seeming confusion, then added, "Oh, I don't care, Poodle.

Jack stopped his gyrations and stared agape at the brunette. "Don't care? What's wrong?" he wanted to know.

Karen stared at him a moment, then composed herself, "Really, it doesn't matter, Jackie…Kentuckyfied Chicken for all I care."

Jack dropped his jaw even lower. He was getting alarmed by this time.

"Aw, close your trap, Jack. I'm not your dentist," Karen sneered.

"I guess I'll have to choose. You're in no condition to make important decisions like this!" He thought a few seconds. "How about that new little coffee shop 'Java Jive'? After you buy me lunch, you can come and see me try out for that part I've had my eye on...you know, like for good luck…" Jack suggested.

"Oh, Jackie, you don't need me for luck. You're great all by yourself," Karen encouraged her friend.

"Thanks, Kare, but I'd really like you to come." Jack pleaded.

"Oh, all right," Karen relented grudgingly. Perhaps it would get her mind off her problems. Grabbing her purse, she moaned again when the motion irritated her too closely filed fingernail.

"Oh, Karebear, you hurt your finger," Jack said sympathetically. He took her hand and gently kissed it. "There! Boo-boo all better now?" he said flashing one of his big goofy smiles at her.

Karen returned the smile. How come that big oaf Stanley couldn't be sweet and caring like her Poodle?

Grace wished Jack luck with the try-out. They exited Grace's studio, and rode to their intended destination in Karen's limo.

They ate their midday meal – Jack gushing about show business and gobbling down his lunch, Karen only half listening, absorbed in her own worries, picking at her food like it was a plate of cockroaches. Jack could see that Karen was preoccupied, so he tried again.

"C'mon, Kare. I can see you're not yourself. Tell daddy all about it," he begged batting his blues eyes pleadingly.

Karen thought it might make her feel better if she shared her dilemma, so she blurted, "I'm divorcing Stan!"