Thanks for the reviews. This fic is winding down (although if enough people are interested I might extend it by a few chapters since I have two endings in mind, one longer than the other), so since I have a bunch of ideas I can't decide between, I put a poll on my profile where you can vote on my next fic... ;)
Chapter 25.
When they arrived at the hospital, Jack ushered Kate straight up to her mother's floor.
She was silent on the drive over, staring out the passenger's side window at the dark road; part of him wished that she'd decided to cry or get angry: anything that would give him a clue as to what she was thinking.
"I'm gonna find someone who can tell us what's happening," he told her when they reached the waiting area, brushing her bicep with his palm to elicit a response. "Will you be okay here for a few minutes?"
"Yeah," she agreed after a moment, finally meeting his eyes, but she didn't look okay.
She was shivering, though whether from cold or from shock he couldn't tell; he shrugged his jacket off and draped it around her bare shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze as he moved off in search of someone he could rely on to give him an accurate report.
He didn't want to leave her for long; he almost ran into his father, who was coming from the opposite direction, as he rushed down the hall, scanning it for a familiar face.
After spending the last few weeks trying to avoid him, he couldn't remember the last time that he'd been so relieved to see him. "Dad! Do you know…?"
"Post operative pneumonia," his father explained before he could finish.
"Why didn't someone call me?" he asked as a sickening sense of dread washed over him. The fact that Diane was weaker than usual hadn't escaped his notice – and then there was that cough – but he hadn't allowed himself to believe that that was what it was. How could he have missed something so serious? "I would have come back in."
"Because you have to go home some time," his father reminded him, staring him down as if daring him to challenge him on this. He didn't wait for Jack to respond before he continued, "As soon as the diagnosis became clear I ordered Clindamycin and Aztreonam but so far she isn't responding to the treatment.
"She's dying, Jack," he finished in a gentler, almost pitying, tone. "We called Kate in so that she could say goodbye."
But Jack wasn't ready to give up on her yet. The first time he met Kate she'd referred to him as a 'miracle worker', and though he'd resisted it at the time, he knew that it some ways, she was right: he'd achieved the impossible before; he could do it again. He had to. "There must be something we can do."
"We did everything we could," his father assured him.
"Did we?" he insisted. He should have been there. He never should have left. And for what? So that he could spend the night with Kate: a night that was ruined the moment they both answered their phones?
Just as he would have expected, his father's sympathetic look turned to one of anger. "That is exactly why I asked you not to get involved with that girl," he reminded him, his voice low and dangerous. "You're too close to this case, Jack.
"I saw you come in with her," he told him, cutting him off when he tried to argue, "The way you kept touching her – that's very intimate body language, son. I would ask you just how far you allowed it to go, but considering it's almost two a.m. and she doesn't look like she's been back to her room…"
Jack lost the tentative hold that he had on his temper then. How dare he call him on trying to comfort her? Couldn't he see that now wasn't the time? "You just told me my girlfriend's mother is dying and all you care about is whether we're having sex?" he retorted, ignoring the curious looks that they were getting.
He knew that he was pushing it, but he didn't care, not when he was about to lose the best thing that had happened to him in a long time. "Yes, I slept with her – is that what you want?"
The blood was roaring in his ears; he was so outraged that he didn't register what he'd said until his father repeated, "Your girlfriend?" and then they both fell into a stunned silence.
"This isn't a fling, Dad," he confessed, too tired to fight him as well. He just needed him to understand why, for once, he couldn't take his advice. "She's not some piece of ass that I can just get over because you're worried about how it will affect my career. I'm in love with her."
His father's terse expression changed on hearing this, becoming grave, sad; Jack softened when it occurred to him that he didn't want this to be happening any more than he did. "Someone's going to have to talk to her. Why don't you let me?" he father offered.
Jack knew from experience that this was as close as his father would come to backing down or apologising. "No," he told him, acknowledging his unspoken concern with a grim smile. "I'm still her mother's doctor. She asked me to do this job – the least I can do is finish it."
He could see that his father didn't approve, but at least he knew better than to argue with him once his mind was made up. "If that's what you feel you need to do…"
Kate wasn't in the lounge where he'd left her; he didn't want to intrude when he found her in her mother's room so he stopped just outside the door, watching them.
He couldn't deny the fact that her mother looked much worse than she had the last time he'd seen her: her pale face was haggard and sallow, and when she pushed the oxygen mask aside he noticed that the skin around her mouth has taken on a bluish tint.
"You look beautiful, honey," she rasped as her gaze flicked over Kate. "You should wear red more often."
Kate's lower lip trembled and he could see the tears forming in her eyes as she knelt by the bed. "I'll tell you what," she agreed, taking her hand and squeezing it. "When you get out of here I'll let you take me shopping and I won't complain."
It was taking all of her mother's remaining speak to strength; she didn't waste words, getting straight to the point. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I should have told you the truth, but Sam… he just loves you so much. Promise me you won't stay mad at him for too long."
Kate swallowed, hard, as the tears began to spill over onto her cheeks. "Sshh," she murmured, smoothing the damp hair back from her mother's hair forehead with her free hand. "You don't have to worry about that now, you just save your strength for getting better, okay?"
"Katherine…"
"We'll go to another hospital," she told her, refusing to listen to what she was saying. "We'll find another doctor – as many as it takes to make you well."
When her only response was a feeble shake of her head, Kate decided to try again. "What about that grandchild you were talking about? Don't you wanna be here to meet her?"
"More than anything in the world," her mother agreed with a wistful smile, "but that's not gonna happen."
"It could," Kate insisted, desperate now. "I'll have a baby if that's what you want – I'll do anything, just don't leave me." Her legs gave out then and she sank onto her knees, burying her face in her mother's chest.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was her anguished sobs, and Jack could feel his own heart breaking for her.
A lone tear slid from beneath her mother's lashes as she brought a hand up to stroke her hair.
"I want you to wait outside while I talk to Dr. Shephard," she said and Jack was surprised to hear his name. He hadn't thought that either of them was aware of his presence. "Will you do that for me?"
Kate lifted her head to look at him, her green eyes swollen and pink beneath her streaked make up, but didn't budge from her side.
"I'll be okay," her mother assured her. "I'm in good hands." She regarded him with a weak smile. "The best."
Kate nodded, releasing her hand slowly as she struggled to her feet.
"Katie?" her mother said when she was halfway to the door.
She stopped, her shoulders tensing as if she were preparing herself for what was coming.
"I love you."
"I love you too, Mom," she managed to choke out as she rushed from the room.
Jack wanted to go after her, to make sure that she was all right, but he felt like he should at least hear her mother out; he waited until he was alone with her to approach her, hovering in the spot that Kate had just vacated.
"I want you to take care of her," she said with surprising calm and Jack wasn't sure whether to be touched or overwhelmed that she was entrusting him with something so precious to her.
"Why me?" he asked. He'd failed her once: how could she be sure that he wouldn't do it again?
"Because you're a good man, Dr. Shephard, and a great doctor…" She smiled. "…And because I always liked you."
He swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, forcing himself to return it. "You have my word," he agreed. He might not be convinced that he was the best man for the job, but that didn't mean that he couldn't at least try.
"Thank you." She closed her eyes, her breathing becoming less laboured, until it ceased altogether, and when the feint blip of her heart was replaced by a steady hum he knew that she was gone.
For the first time since he'd met her she looked serene, peaceful; it might have been a relief if it wasn't for what he still had to do.
Kate was slumped in one of the chairs at the end of the hall looking so young and sad, like a lost child, that he almost couldn't believe she was the same woman he'd taken to bed just a few hours before. Just the thought of it made him guilty now, and he knew that it must be the same for her.
"I'm so sorry, Kate," he told her, shaking his head, when she glanced up at him.
He didn't have to explain what this meant. "I don't understand," she said, getting up, her expression bewildered. "What…?"
"Pneumonia. It's a very common surgical comp—" He closed his eyes in resignation when her palm connected with his cheek, the smarting sensation dulled by the ache in his chest. He knew that he deserved it, and more, for making promises that he couldn't keep, but he'd needed to believe that there was something he could do.
"You said it was nothing! You promised she would be okay!" she cried, but instead of lashing out at him again, she collapsed into his arms, crushing his lapels in her fists as she sobbed into his shirt.
"I know, and I wish..." What did he wish? "I wanted to save her, for you."
He killed him to see her hurting like this, knowing that all he'd done was make it worse for her; he didn't trust himself to say the right thing so he just held her tighter, pressing his lips to the top of her head.
It was a long time before she could compose herself enough to form a coherent sentence, and then she asked, her voice so soft and timid that he had to strain his ears to hear her, "Can I… Can I have some time with her, before they…?"
He nodded, releasing her when she stepped back. "You want me to come sit with you?"
She shook her head. "No, I think I just wanna be alone," she told him with polite smile, moving past him, and once again he was left standing there, helpless, watching her go.
Next chapter: ...? ;)