Both men whipped around in the direction of where the voice had come from, their eyes searching the darkness. A lone figure stepped out of the shadows.
"Ronnie!"
"Veronica."
"Ronnie, sweetheart, what're, what're you doing?" Jack's voice trembled as his eyes darted from the gun Ronnie held in her hands to the empty look in her eyes. Without apprehension, he walked towards, one arm outstretched so he could palm the gun. But Ronnie shifted position at the last second, rendering the gun out of Jack's reach.
Their eyes locked together, an invisible thread of dialogue flowing between the orbs. "I have to," Ronnie whispered; not because she didn't want her father to hear, but because she didn't have the strength to speak any louder.
Jack nodded, understanding what she meant, understanding her. "You shouldn't be out of bed, Ron. You're still-" He stopped short, sucking in a sharp breath.
Ronnie took a step towards him, wincing as she did so. "You know I need to do this," she murmured.
He nodded once again. "But not like this, Ron." He shook his head. "Not like this."
"You were going to-"
"You're not me, Ronnie! You're different and precious and please, darling, just give me the gun," Jack begged her, his hand open for her to place the weapon in it. His eyes pleaded with her, his heart in his throat as a thousand different scenarios bolted through his mind. There's no coming back from this, darling. If you pull that trigger . . . You should've stayed at the flat, you should've let me take care of you. I can take this, I can live with it, but darling . . . you can't.
"Veronica, listen to him," her father told her.
"Shut up!" Jack practically roared, knowing that anything Archie said could push Ronnie over the edge. She would kill her father and Jack would lose her forever.
Ronnie stared at her ex-lover's open hand for a moment, before speaking. "I hate him," She stated, her voice low and monotonous.
"I know, darling."
She lifted her eyes to Jack's, a film of heartbroken tears lining her lashes. The anger that had laced them in the hospital had now dissipated and all that was left was gut wrenching anguish.
"He killed my baby."
"I know," Jack whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. He lifted a hand to Ronnie's face, gently caressing her cheek and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I know he did."
"I have to, Jack. Please."
But Jack shook his head, refusing to give her permission to destroy herself for the man that had ripped her apart. "I've lost you three times already Ronnie, I'm not losing you again. So, please, darling – I'm begging you, please give me the gun."
