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: I'm very grateful for the two reviews I got after posting the last chapter. I've been really into the whole Stress/Rip/Jack character base recently (as you can tell from my recent updates). It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know that people still enjoy reading about them.
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. There is also an author's cut of CLAK (Obsession: Cuts like a Knife), as well as Rip's story, A Virgin's Touch.
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Chapter Nine
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Jack, a few moments later, followed Cassandra into the office but did not look at the girl. Instead, he stopped at his desk and grabbed a pad and pencil. He checked to see if there were any messages from Mister Jenkins and when nothing stood out from the mess that was his desk, he quickly left the room.
His quick entry and even quicker exit did not pass by the girl unnoticed. As soon as Jack had left the office, the sniffles began again. But Cassandra refused to let the tears fall; she was not going to waste the moisture when he was not there to witness the cries.
The only way to keep her mind of her humiliation was to work. So, despite the tears that clouded her vision, Cassandra reached for some of the work she had meant to finish before Jessa's fall from Friday. She didn't even notice it when neither the girl nor her boss neglected to show up at work.
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"No, Jessa, not 'Rip'. Call me Luke." His voice had hardly changed over the years. True, the Italian accent that she knew was almost indistinct but he still had the deepest (and most soothing) voice she had ever heard. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to get lost in his voice before the reality of what he was saying set in.
Luke…Luke…Luke…
The trance had been broken. Jess took a step away from him and then another. Her green eyes widened in surprise – or was it fear? She held up her hand, creating a barrier between his body and hers. I don't know what I was thinking. This is Rip – Rip – and I was listening to him. No. "Rip – Luke. I can't… You… No," she stammered.
He placed his leather hat back on top of his hat before extending his hand out to touch her. "Jessa, it's all right. I—"
She jerked her hand away from him, hiding it behind her back. She had been so taken aback at Jack and Cassandra's public embrace that she had not been thinking. Then, when Rip just appeared… It was so easy to forget for those few minutes. She had not seen him in over nine years; she had assumed that she had put her past behind her. The discovery that he might have returned had been shocking but, deep down, she was not sure that he was really there. Yet, he was.
He was there, standing in the middle of a Manhattan street, staring at her as if nothing was wrong. As if they were friends who had amicably parted rather than a broken girl and the abusive lover she spurned. To look at the man in front of her, with his expensive hat and boots, sun beaten features and coy smile, she would never think him to be the monster that terrorized her when she was younger.
But she knew what he was capable of. Long repressed memories of slaps, bruises, cuts and pain came rushing forth; this was Rip Divenize – Luke Divenize. She knew what he could do to her – and she was not about to let him do it again.
She shook her head, a loose curl falling forward out of her clip. He took a step forward, his hand still extended. He made to brush the curl away but, before he could, she jumped back again. At that moment, if he touched her, she thought she might get sick all over the side of the road.
Jess opened her mouth to speak but the sudden wave of nausea caused her to clamp it shut. She just shook her head again before running away. She had not known it that morning when she dressed in her yellow frock but the slight slit in the skirt came in handy. She did not stumble nearly as much as she could have.
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Luke tried hard not to snap at that moment. Honestly, it should have been expected – why would she want to talk to him when all she (obviously) remembered about him was his heavy hand and insatiable lust? He would have to teach her otherwise. And he knew exactly how to do it.
After Jessa was out of his sight – not for the first time, did she run from him; he had almost forgotten how fast she could escape from him when she was nervous – he began to ammend his plan. But, in order to do that, he needed certain information. And there was only one place that he could think to get that information.
He arrived at the Chronicle building just in time to watch a man hurry from within. Luke's features darkened as he watched the tall, brunet man, pad and pencil clasped tightly in his right hand, continue down the street. Nine years or five minutes – Luke remembered Jack Kelly. He still had the scar from when Jack turned his own knife against him all those years ago.
His feet started to follow after the man without him even realizing it. Once he did, he paused and took a deep breath. Right now, he needed to focus on Jessa. He would deal with Jack Kelly later.
He took another deep breath and straightened the hand tailored white shirt he was wearing. He stamped his leather boots once before heading back to the Chronicle building. It was time to see if Danger's tip proved true.
There was a desk resting in the lobby of the enormous building, manned by an elderly woman. She was a tiny, pinched sort of woman who looked disapprovingly at him as he swaggered into the building. He was not intimidated, though. Luke just pasted a charming grin onto his face and approached her. "Morning, ma'am. I'm here to see a Mister Jack Kelly."
He could feel the beady eyes of the woman as she looked him up and down. She seemed to think that he was harmless because she nodded and drew out a large ledger. She began to flip through the pages until she stopped midway – the 'K' section of the book. One of her small, wrinkled fingers ran down the page as she put her face close to the page to read the writing. Finally she stopped and looked up at him. "Mr. Jack Kelly," she began in a nasally tone, "can be found on the fifth floor, first door on the right. He shares an office with Mr. David Jacobs, his fellow junior reporter."
Luke tipped his cowboy hat at the woman – she did not seem impressed – before heading towards the stairs.
The five flights went by like nothing and soon he was standing just outside the office. He peeked inside. He had, after watching Jack leave and Jessa run off in the opposite direction of the building, hoped that he would be alone. But, when he looked inside the small office, he saw that there was a girl sitting inside.
Her head was down, long chestnut hair covering her face, as she worked on some papers. It was not Jessa, he knew – maybe it was the girl that Harrison mentioned before his death. There's only one way to find out, he thought, and walked into the office. When she didn't lift her head, he knocked against the wall.
Cassandra lifted her head urgently, thinking that maybe Jack had returned back to the office. But, when she caught sight of the man standing just inside the door, she knew it was not Mr. Kelly – but neither was it Mr. Jacobs, Jessa or any of the other staff that worked on this floor.
He was, however, an exceptionally handsome man. Without even realizing that she was doing it, Cassandra began to wipe at her face. She had not bothered to clean up after crying this morning – she had wanted Mr. Kelly to feel guilty – but now she felt unworthy to be looking at this man.
He didn't seem to mind, however, and just smiled. "Good morning."
"Good morning," she replied, feeling the heat come to her cheeks. She always grew flustered around an attractive man. "Can I help you?"
"Yes. I was wondering if a Jessa Rhian works here."
Cassandra had to fight from snorting out her reply. Of course this man is looking for her… "Yeah. But she ain't in yet."
I know. "Well, that's a shame. I really had to speak to her. You don't have her address handy, do you? It's quite urgent that I speak with her. Maybe I could catch her at home."
She seemed to hesitate just then. Would it be wrong to give out her co-worker's personal information to a stranger? Then he smiled at her again and her inhibitions were gone. With a smile of her own, Cassandra got up from her desk. All the personnel information was kept in Mr. Jacobs' desk.
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It was not much longer following Rip's departure – with Jessa's address scribbled on a scrap piece of paper clutched tightly in his hand – that David Jacobs arrived at the office. He glanced at his watch as he walked inside. The dial read that it was a quarter to seven; he was fifteen minutes early. Not as early as he would have liked but things had been a little strange since Friday.
He purposely stood outside of the office, resting his head against the white wall. David was not prepared to face both Jessa and Jack. After the big fight at Jack's apartment on Friday, David had been avoiding them both. He did not want to admit – not even to himself – but a part of him, deep down, was oddly glad that the pair had finally split up. He was not sure if it was because he felt it was time that his closest friend finally knew what it was like to be alone (like he had ever since Grace left) or because he was secretly happy that Jess was single.
David sighed and closed his blue eyes. Did harboring feelings for his best friend's (ex?) girl make him a bad person? I think so. I just can't do anything about it.
"Mr. Jacobs?"
His eyes sprung open once he heard Cassandra's voice; she was standing in the doorway, peering at him. He pulled away from the wall, wincing at the small suction noise his skin made. "Good morning, Miss Cassandra," he said, sounding as if there was nothing odd about a man resting his head against the outer wall of his office. "How are you?"
Cassandra was looking at him strangely. Obviously, she thought something was wrong with the man. "Things are going good," she answered slowly. She cleared her throat and turned her face downward. David could see, from that angle, that there were tear stains running down her cheeks. She had been crying earlier. "Mr. Kelly had already been in and out of the office," she added.
He hurriedly took his eyes off of her. If she thought something was odd about him before, she would think he was even weirder if she caught him staring at her. Besides, something about the way she mentioned Jack told him that he was the reason behind her tears. Oh, Jack. Just getting along with the ladies, aren't we? "Good, good…" he answered. He absently patted the top of his curly brown hair. "And Miss Jessa?"
The girl flinched and her lip curled. She did not particularly like Jess – he knew that; from her actions and attitude, it was obvious – but she had never made her disdain so open before. David was beginning to really wonder what had happened before he arrived at the office. "She ain't here yet. Probably going to be late again."
He nodded. If there was one thing that Cassandra had been trying to get her counterpart sacked for, it was her tardiness. She was annoyed that David always overlooked Jess's lateness and he knew it. "Well, I'll talk to her when she gets in," he said, trying to appease the girl. He hated to see a woman cry.
Cassandra reciprocated his nod and moved inward so that he could pass by her. As soon as he was standing before his desk, she turned around and went back to her own without another word. She had been in the middle of typing up some of Jack's letters when she heard the soft plunk just outside the door – the sound David Jacobs' head had made when he placed it up against the wall.
Though Cassandra had taken her seat and had returned to her work, David remained standing in front of his desk. One of the drawers was slightly open and he knew that he had not left it that way when he closed up the office later Friday night.
