Thanks for the reviews (I see the title has clued some of you in to what I have in mind!). However, given that most people appear to be indifferent to this fic, and I'm not even sure how I feel about it, I'm seriously considering abandoning it in favour of the flashforward one. So if you care what happens, please tell me (I promise it won't all be angst, and will have the usual twists and turns, including someone from Kate's past)... ;)
Chapter 3. What're We Gonna Do?
Dead.
The word resounded inside Jack's mind, turning his blood to ice. It wasn't possible. Wayne couldn't be dead, because that meant…
That meant he was a murderer.
"Are you sure?" he asked Kate, forcing himself up onto his hands and knees, and crawling over to them, hoping that she'd made a mistake. "Maybe you're not doing it right…"
"I know how to check a pulse, Jack," she retorted when he shifted her fingers to one side, replacing them with his own. "Trust me."
The problem was that he did, it was just easier to convince himself that he didn't. That she was wrong. That the situation wasn't as bad as it seemed. "We have to call an ambulance," he told her, withdrawing his own hand when he came to the same conclusion as she had.
Wayne was dead.
Calling for an ambulance was the first idea that came to his mind, maybe because he'd spent his entire life around hospitals, but his conviction faltered when she shook her head.
"And then what? They'll call the police," she said.
The police.
Jack's stomach tightened, and he felt like he was going to be sick. "So we'll explain it was an accident," he insisted, refusing to let go of the vain hope that he could fix this. That he could make it okay.
But he couldn't. It would never be okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.
"We killed someone, Jack – do you really think they're gonna care how it happened?" she argued, her voice rising as she grew more and more hysterical, and he had to remind her to keep it down. The last thing they needed was for the neighbours to hear.
"We didn't do anything," he reminded her, trying to get her to calm down. He couldn't think straight with her so upset. "I did."
"So? That makes it even worse." She was near tears now. "You'll be eighteen in less than a month, and then you won't just be getting a slap on the wrist – you'll be going to jail. We both will."
"We're not going to jail, Kate" he assured her, with as much confidence as he could muster, "I'll call my dad, he'll bring in his lawyer… they'll straighten this out," but deep down, he wasn't so sure.
His parents had made their opposition clear from the beginning: even if his father agreed to help him, there were bound to be strings, and those strings were bound to involve her. He would finally have a reason to forbid Jack from seeing her.
"What about me?" she asked, her lower lip trembling as she slid to the floor, her back against the bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. "My dad doesn't have the kind of money yours does. I'll be lucky if he can even afford a lawyer."
"He's not a monster – he's not gonna let them pin this on you," he argued, dropping back beside her with a groan, but he couldn't be sure of this either. His father could be surprisingly Machiavellian when it served his agenda.
"He will if it means keeping me away from you," she told him, everything about her projecting sheer misery as she trained her eyes on the body at their feet.
Wayne's face still wore an expression of pure malice, as if, like a villain in a horror movie, he would string up at any moment and resume his attack. That was the one comfort that Jack could take from what he'd done: his days of bullying Kate and her mother were over.
"So what do you think we should do?" he asked her.
"I think we should get out of here," she told him, her eyes wild and desperate as she struggled to her feet, and went after her backpack, abandoned on the floor where Wayne had grabbed her, various articles of clothing spilling out across the carpet. "I'm already packed – that's why I came back here. I was gonna take off for a couple of days. All we have to do is get some of your stuff, and we can go some place no one will ever find us."
It was a tempting suggestion, given the uncertain future they were facing, together, and separately, but Jack couldn't help noting the flaws in her plan.
"Look at us," he said, going for the most obvious, as he watched her brace her arm against her chest, stuffing everything back into her pack with her left hand. "Your arm's dislocated, and I'm pretty sure he broke some of my ribs. We're not gonna get very far without medical attention."
"I'm fine," she insisted, forcing a smile, but he could see that she was in a lot of pain as she hoisted it onto her good shoulder. Her eyes had that glazed look.
"Someone's gonna need to put it back, or it's just gonna get worse," he pointed out, and knowing that he had her there, she sighed, setting her backpack back down, and presenting her injured shoulder to him.
"You can do it."
"I'm not a doctor yet, Kate," he reminded her, wishing that she would stop forcing take on that role, but he could never get her to recognise that distinction.
"I trust you," she said, closing her eyes, and bracing herself, and he knew he was probably the only person in the world, her father included, who could boast to this.
"It's gonna hurt – a lot," he assured her, trying to convince her to change her mind and let him take her to the hospital, but she gave him a weak smile, keeping her eyes screwed shut.
"I can take it."
There was no arguing with her, so, before he could talk himself out of it, he took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he grabbed her hand, and pulled upwards, applying pressure on her arm until he felt it lock back into place.
She cried out in pain, choking back a sob, and when she looked at him again, there were tears in her eyes.
"It's gonna start feeling a lot better now, I promise," he told her, giving her a brief, delicate hug, before returning his focus to her arm. "We need to take the weight off it – do you have anything we can use as a sling?"
"My mom has one from when she broke her arm," she said, with a hard look at Wayne, and he wondered if she felt as remorseful as he did. If anything, she seemed more concerned about the consequences than the fact that he was dead. It was a sobering thought.
"Do you know where it is?" he asked her, moving towards the door when she explained, but when she saw how much pain he was in, doubling over with his hand pressed to his side, she touched his arm, her eyes full of concern.
"I'll get it. You need to stay here."
He sank onto the bed with a grateful nod, trying not to jar his ribs, his eyes falling on Wayne as he waited for her to return. He still hadn't moved, but then, that wasn't all that surprising, considering…
Considering the fact that he'd killed him.
It all felt so unreal; he didn't even know how to being processing it. It wasn't like he had anything to draw on.
He helped her tie the sling, and then they sat down on bed, their sides touching, facing the body. He felt like they should do something with it, instead of leaving it lying there, out in the open, but he wasn't sure what, so he took a blanket from the end of the bed, and threw it over it.
"You really think my father'll let them punish you for this?" he asked her when an uncomfortable silence fell over them, the fleeting hope he'd felt before fading when she nodded.
"He hates me, Jack – you've seen it. Even if he doesn't, he'll send you away. We'll never see each other again," she told him, and he couldn't argue with her, because he knew it was true. His parents would make sure of it.
If they had too, they'd send him to Berkeley instead of Columbia, like they'd always planned, so that they could keep an eye on him. It would be years before he could track her down, and by then, it might be too late.
"I can't lose you too, Jack," she whispered after a moment, as if sensing that she'd weakened him, priming him to agree. "That's why we have to run – it's the only way we can stay together."
He wanted to tell her no, that it was hopeless, and stupid, that running would only ruin their lives, but he couldn't imagine his life without her, so he said, "Okay," regretting it before the word had even left his mouth.
Next chapter: The ever-resourceful Kate comes up with a way to dispose of the body, and they begin making preparations... ;)
