Title: Can't Keep Running
Summary: It's been five years since the strike, seven since she learned Jack's true history and nine since she said goodbye to Rip -- what's in store next for Stress & Jack? Marriage? A Family? Or the return of the one she fears above all others?
Author's Note: Well, after a two month break, I decided to bring this story back into my repertoire. It just seemed fitting, what with the extensive work I'm doing with A Virgin's Touch, that I get back to my Soul Mate Series. I'm actually reworking the first three stories to incorporate the new facts about Luke/Rip – you'll see that with this story already. Well, next chapter at least. So, for anyone who reads that, it will be as entertaining to you as it is to me, to be reading about the same character with about a 10 year difference in age.
Disclaimer: As I've said countless times before, and I'm sure I'll say it countless times again, I, sadly, do not own any of the newsies. They are © 1992- to Disney, as hard as I try to get them for myself. I do, however, own Jessa/Stress, Luke/Rip, Caitlin/Spindle and Tyler/Danger. Any other character is property of the author I've borrowed them from.
Soul Mates Series: This is the fourth installment in Stress & Jack: Soul Mates Series. It is preceded by Cuts Like a Knife (I), Secrets Behind the Lies (II) and One Year Anniversary (III), in case you would like to read the earlier chapters in their lives.
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Chapter Seven
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Maybe it was because of her fitful sleep, or maybe Michael's snoring was just too loud, but rather than retake her position on the couch and try to go back asleep, Jess quickly got dressed. The pale yellow frock she pulled on over her head was simple but daring; the length of her dress went down to the floor and cinched at her waist but the skirt held a tiny slit that, scandalously, showed her stocking covered shins when she walked. She pulled on her stockings followed by her brown heeled shoes. She pulled her light brown curls back and clipped them at the nape of her neck; she didn't want to spend the additional time pinning her hair up as the style of the time demanded. Besides, she thought as she gave her hair a final pat, Jack likes my hair loose.
She smoothed down the sides of her skirt in pure nervousness; she hadn't been this frightened of Jack since the time, almost five years ago, when she had to tell him how she felt. It was almost as if she was doing the same thing again. Hopefully Jack listened to what she said this time; he hadn't then.
Jess grabbed her purse and slipped outside of the Mackenzie's apartment. As she walked down the hallway, approaching the staircase, her green eyes strayed over to the door that led to the apartment that she had, up until three days ago, shared with Jack. Before she could stop herself, she walked over to it and rapped gently on the wooden door. She waited to see if he would answer and sighed slightly when there came no response.
Rather than wait to see if Jack left the apartment later, Jess decided to head straight to the Chronicle building. Not only could she try to talk things over with Jack but maybe, if she was lucky, she could arrive before Cassandra did. She wasn't going to let Jack spend any more time with the girl than was necessary, not if she wanted to try to forgive him for what he had said. He, after all, was the father of her unborn child, not Cassandra's.
As she exited the apartment tenement and began to walk in the direction of the newspaper building, Jess let her right hand rest over her midsection. It had been three days since she had been to see Dr. Morgan and been told that she was expecting. Between worrying about Jack and Cassandra and wondering if Rip really had returned to New York, she hadn't truly accepted the news. I'm going to be a mother. It just sounded strange to her. But it was for the baby, if not for herself, that she had to talk to Jack. Ava had been right; he needed to know.
Her feet, so accustomed to the trek between her apartment building and the building that housed the Chronicle journalists, brought her within a few blocks without her even realizing it. She had walked most of the trip behind a tall gentleman with a top hat; it was when he turned right and opened up her view that she realized that she was almost at work. In fact, the multi-storied building was already in sight.
That was not the only thing in sight, however. Once the man who had been in front of her had gone his separate way, Jess had a direct view at the entrance to the Chronicle building – and to the pair that stood right before it. The handsome profile of the man she saw was known to her from the many nights she gazed at it while lying in their bed; Cassandra was equally as recognizable in her flashy pink dress.
Jess stopped almost without meaning to. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the conversing pair; neither one of them had seen her yet and, she knew, that this could be the moment of truth. If there really was something going on between the two of them, she could find out by watching them now.
At first it only looked like Jack and Cassandra were talking. Cassandra seemed rather upset, Jess could tell from the way the girl kept her head down while Jack spoke to her. But when Jack leaned down slightly and rested his hand on Cassandra's shoulder, Jess felt her heart stop. Maybe he's just comforting Cassandra, she thought and she waited. Yeah, that's got to be it. It certainly seemed that way.
That is, until Cassandra looked up and, standing on her toes, reached upwards to kiss Jack. Jess turned away at once, tears of shock and hurt immediately springing to her eyes, as she fought the urge to cry out; it was almost as if she had expected something like this to happen. She began to walk away, purposely going in the opposite direction of the Chronicle building. There was no way she would be able to face Jack and his secretary now.
Jess was walking so quickly, and was so preoccupied with trying to wipe at the hot tears that threatened to run down her face, that she didn't see the tall man watching her from a block away. His icy blue eyes seemed to follow her quickened pace; his lips quirked upwards as he intentionally stood in her way. He couldn't have had things gone better for him if he had planned it all himself.
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Jack had slept just as fitfully those last few nights; he was always used to limited space in his bed. When he had lived in the Newsboys' Lodging House on Duane Street, the bunks had been tiny. Later, when he had moved into the small apartment with Jess, he had shared the larger bed with her sleeping soundly beside him. It was strange for him to have as much room in the bed as he needed. Tossing and turning for the countless time, Jack knew there was no chance he would get any sleep that night. The first night had been easier; he had stayed up drinking whiskey the entire night. The next night he spent sprawled across the bed, trying to sleep off a drunken stupor. He had then spent Sunday trying to figure out how to get Jess to tell him exactly what had happened – cause I'll be damned if I know – but that discussion had ended horribly. In his hurt at her words – she had hit me pretty low calling me 'Sullivan' – he had given up on her. And, because he knew he had to go to work early the following morning, he couldn't drink his troubles away nor fall into a drunken sleep. The result? He hadn't slept a wink since storming away from the Mackenzie's apartment.
Sighing, Jack decided that, if he couldn't sleep, he might as well head down to the Chronicle building and get a head start on the small piece that he had neglected on Friday. David had felt sorry for Jack after the argument he and Jess had; he had finished up his own articles as well as a few of Jack's by heading back to the Chronicle building and staying late. It's my turn to help Dave out, he thought as he exchanged his pajama bottoms for a pair of slacks. He reached for the only clean shirt he had out and shimmied it on, adding a black tie to go with it. He half-heartedly ran a comb through his brown hair before looking into the mirror. Maybe Jess will take pity on me and come back. His reflection shrugged.
After making sure he had his wallet, Jack exited into the hallway. He had half a mind to turn right and try his hand at talking to her again; maybe if there wasn't a great wooden door separating them, they would have a better shot at reconciling. But, before he walked over to the apartment at the end of the hallway, his chocolate eyes rested on the door next to Ava and Michael's: the Conlon apartment. While Spot wasn't as half as intimidating as he was when he was younger and living in Brooklyn, his wife, Rae, was. Jack had never gotten on well with Rae Conlon back when she was Rae Kelly; which, of course, meant that she was one of Jess's closest friends. After the way Rae had come chasing after him with her wooden spoon on Saturday for disturbing Genna's sleep, Jack was not anxious to wake the baby up again.
With a sigh, Jack turned left. He would speak to Jess at the office.
His trip to the Chronicle building was uneventful; there were more and more newsies on the streets that he didn't recognize. Look at how fast a New York minute goes, he thought to himself as he watched a kid – no more than eight – offering the morning edition of the Sun to tall man. He was coughing pitifully but Jack could tell that he was faking in order to get the tourist – With a tan like that and authentic cowboy boots? Man had to be from the West, Jack thought enviously – to buy his paper for double the price; after all, how often had he seen Dave's kid brother – Kid? Les is near fifteen and finishing up school soon – try that kind of act to con customers? He caught the newsboy's eye and grinned. The tourist had handed the boy a nickel in exchange for the paper.
In a way, Jack missed that sort of life. He had given up selling newspapers in the winter of 1901; he had just past his nineteenth birthday. David had proposed to his longtime girl, Grace. She had accepted and David sought out a job that would earn him more than selling papers or, even, working in a factory. His pal, the reporter, Denton, had set him up with Mr. Jenkins. David got the job and was able to work Jack in with his as well. They pair had been junior reporters with the Chronicle ever since.
The pay was better than could be expected and the job was something that they both did well. Jack, with his street smarts and connections, could always get a scoop. David, with his education, could write an article that caused people to turn to a dictionary. It was a sweet set-up that only got better when they were able to get a job for Grace. Jess had, against her will, gotten a job at a factory near the apartment tenement but Grace had held out on the hope that her acting would take off. When the play season on 1901 ended, David was able to get his fiancée hired as his secretary. However, when Mr. Jenkins found out that they were engaged, Grace was promptly fired. Jess took her place with the condition that no one mentioned how, exactly, she knew the junior reporters.
Sometimes Jack thought that he should never have agreed to that deal. The secretary he first had when he joined the paper was an older woman named Millie. Millie became with child within that first year and a younger replacement was found, Suzanne. Suzy lasted a year before she quit to get married. That's when Cassandra was hired – and the quiet rivalry between the two girls began. As often as he told Jess not to pay any mind to the teenager, he could tell that she was jealous of the younger girl. Or, at least, annoyed at the attention she paid to him.
"Oh, Mr. Kelly!"
Jack, who was walking with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the ground, looked up in surprise. There, standing right in front of the Chronicle building, was one of the girls he was just thinking about. But it wasn't the one he had hoped to see – it was Cassandra. "Morning, Cass," he replied, his words said with much less enthusiasm than hers. However, his tone changed when he looked at the girl's face. It was stained with tears – she had been crying. Great. "Is everything alright?"
The girl shook her head, her long brown hair swaying as she did so. She lowered her hazel eyes. "My friend, Cookie, she's been staying with me and my mom for the past few days. You see," she explained, with a slight sniffle and Jack couldn't help but wonder why she was telling him this, "her guy was murdered last week. I've had to help her get through this but," and here's when the tears began to flow again, "the way Danger got killed made me think about how any of us could go at any moment."
Now Jack understood. This must be Cassandra's first dealing with death; he, himself, had thought the same thing when Spot's long-time girlfriend, before he met Rae, had died after following a short bout of tuberculosis. Stripes' death had caused them all a bunch of grief and Spot well, if Rae hadn't talked some sense into the boy, he would have jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge back in the fall 1900. The way she met Spot and fell in love with him while trying to talk him down was the favorite of her stories to tell when she's had a drink too many. But, with Stripes death, they had all been face to face with mortality. He understood exactly what she was feeling. Trying to be sympathetic, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Bending down slightly so that he could see her face, he spoke soothingly to her. "Don't worry, Cassandra. I don't think you have anything to worry about."
Cassandra stopped her crying but didn't lift her head. "You don't understand, Mr. Kelly – Jack. What I meant was, you or I could die at any moment, and I never would have told you exactly how I felt about you." And, before he could react to her statement at all, Cassandra looked up and kissed him squarely on his mouth.
