Thanks for the reviews. Glad you like chapter 23. He couldn't have killed Wayne though, Contorce, because he's already dead. He crashed his truck sixteen years ago, remember?

I'm a woman of my word, so since I promised a kiss this update, I sat down in one mammoth seven-hour session and finished this fic, except for the epilogue, which I will write when I recover. The section that covered Jack's plan was almost 3,000 words all up, so I've split it into three separate chapters, but I'm posting them all today, so don't worry. It was pretty draining though, mentally, and emotionally, and it's summer here, which is physically draining, so I expect reasonable sized reviews to make up for the fact that I'm putting all of it up in one hit. I'm hoping to make it to one hundred this time, so if you'd indulge me on that, I'd really appreciate it.

Chapter 24. Do You Trust Me?

It didn't take Kate long to realise where Jack was taking her, the smiled fading from her lips as they drew nearer to the crossroads. She stopped short at the mouth of her old street, turning to him with a haunted expression, her eyes pained and confused. "What is this?"

When he didn't answer right away, she repeated, "Where are we going?" but it wasn't a question this time, because she already knew, her voice rising shrilly as her eyes searched his for an explanation.

Jack had spent the last few days preparing himself for this reaction, so while he couldn't say it didn't bother him, he wasn't surprised by it. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away, wrapping her arms around herself defensively.

"I want to go home," she said, her lip trembling as she fought back tears.

"That's where we're going," he told her gently, laying out his treacherous plan, but she shook her head.

"Not there. The motel."

"Kate—" he began, but before he could argue, she looked at him imploringly, her eyes brimming with tears, as she whispered, "Please don't make me do this, Jack. I can't." She took a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself as she added, "I just want to go to L.A. and forget any of it ever happened."

He was hurting her, just liked he'd known he would, but he couldn't stop now, or that would be all he had achieved. He had to push her past the pain, to the point where it became cathartic. "Okay," he allowed, seeing the relief on her face as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand, "but you have to promise me you'll put the house on the market. The land's probably worth more than the actual structure now, but the point is to forget it, right? So let's forget it."

It was a reasonable argument, one that would normally have won out, but there was nothing reasonable about Kate's attachment to that house. She shook her head slowly, her eyes growing desperate again as she realised she was cornered. If she didn't agree to sell the house, he would force her to go back there, and she couldn't do either; she couldn't forget, in spite of her brave words.

"You don't have to do it right away, Kate," he said softly, laying a hand on her shoulder, and this time, she didn't withdraw. "But that place is a money pit. You can't afford to hold onto it, especially from L.A. That's not what your mom would have wanted."

"It doesn't matter what she wanted, Jack, she's dead." He could tell she was trying to be stoic, but her defences weren't strong enough to withstand such an onslaught.

"And you're not," he said firmly, determined not to let the hurt in her eyes keep him from doing what he needed to do. "Which is why we have to do this. You can't start thinking about the future until you've let go of the past."

Her throat convulsed with suppressed sobs, making it impossible for her to speak, so he pulled her into his arms, letting her collapse against his chest, her warm tears staining his shirt. Holding her while she cried, he tried to communicate to her silently that she didn't have to be strong anymore, because he was there to support her when she couldn't support herself. She seemed to understand him, because she didn't fight it this time, clinging to him long after her shoulders had stopped shaking.

When she'd gotten herself more or less under control, he murmured, "Do you trust me?" and she nodded, stepping back, and letting him take her hand as he led her down her old street.