Hey, I'm back! This chapter is for everyone who's reviewed so far, especially if I didn't respond to you after the last chapter because I'm a loser . . . Life's been hectic, but that's no excuse. :) Anyway, words cannot express how grateful I am for all of you!
Standard disclaimers apply.
His immediate fear is that she'll get sick. Her clothes are damp for some reason, and she's shivering, her teeth chattering violently in a way that makes him press her face to his chest just to keep her from hurting herself. But of course she demands to go to Pulitzer's office, climbing down from the carriage and marching up the steps and through the door without any help. She barely stumbles.
"That's some kid you got there," he murmurs to Pulitzer. He grunts in assent. Jack still can't get over his apparent lack of concern at the state of his daughter, though. If it was up to him, he'd drag her to bed right now. To sleep, that is. Before she gets sick.
Inside the office, Katherine pulls a vial of something from inside her dress and slaps it down in front of Pulitzer. "That's what they give the patients," she says, shaking her head. "I have no idea what it is, but if you find out, let me know." Wandering over to one of the typewriters at a desk, she falls into the chair and types a few notes before shoving it away and resting her head on her hands.
Jack kneels in front of her, rubbing her back gently. "How'd you get that, Ace?"
She looks up, narrowing her eyes at him. "What do you mean? I told you, they give it to the patients when they get too upset. It calms them down or something. I stole some when they weren't looking."
"Morphine, maybe?" Pulitzer suggests, staring at the vial. But Jack ignores him. He's too busy studying her face. Something is off.
"Did they give it to you too?"
She blinks, looking away quickly. "Why would you think that? Don't be ridiculous."
"Don't lie to me, Ace."
"I'm not."
He shakes his head, spinning away from her to pace across the room. "Oh yeah? For one thing, your pupils are huge. You ain't exactly steady on your feet, and you're slurring your words. Should I go on?"
"I am not slurring my words," she huffs. He sighs, returning to her side and cradling her face in his hands.
"Seriously, Ace. Don't think I don't recognize stuff like this. I've seen it enough on the streets."
Blinking back tears, she presses her cheek harder into his palm. He thinks she's trying to absorb the warmth from his skin. "Am I going to die?" she whispers, her voice breaking. "Is it poisonous? My head feels so strange . . ."
He shakes his head, quickly, smiling a little and pulling her into a hug. She really had no clue what she was getting herself into. "Course not," he promises. "You just need to sleep it off."
Her businesslike manner returns immediately, like a switch was flipped. "I have to finish this, Jack. I can't go home."
"Seriously? Do you not want to change into something dry and sleep in a bed again?" After getting out of the Refuge, that's the first thing he'd done.
"I can't," she says distractedly, her attention already back on her article.
His fingers play with her hair absently as she types, gently easing it out of the tight braid they must have arranged it in at the asylum. Though damp, the curls are limp and matted once they're freed, and he can tell it hasn't been washed in days. Probably ten. He swallows thickly as he begins to imagine again what she must have faced there.
"I'm just leaving a blank space for the drug for now," she says to no one in particular, pausing to rub her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Don't forget to include any names you can remember," Pulitzer adds. "We can't be afraid to make this a personal attack if we're going to gain the attention of the local government."
She nods determinedly, though she can't suppress a yawn. Jack, who's leaning against her shoulder and fiddling absently with a strand of hair, can feel her shaking as she takes a deep, shuddering breath. She's about ready to drop, he knows it. It's killing him to see her like this.
"All right," he says finally, glaring at Pulitzer. "I'm takin' her home now. And there ain't nothing you can say to stop me."
"Jack." Katherine opens her mouth to argue, resisting his efforts to pull her to her feet, but he shakes his head.
"You can't change my mind either," he murmurs into her hair. "You need rest. You can finish the damn article tomorrow."
She sighs, nuzzling her face into his shoulder. He gives up trying to get her to walk and heaves her into his arms.
"But I don't want to wait," she whispers. "Those girls deserve better." He can still feel her shaking against him. It's getting worse – the air is colder now that the sun has sunk below the horizon, and her thick skirts still haven't completely dried.
"Ace, they deserve a well-written article," he says, mostly because he knows it'll shut her up. "You've been staring at the same word for the past fifteen minutes – it ain't helping them gettin' yourself sick. They'll still be there tomorrow either way."
He doesn't even know why he's still fighting – he's already carried her to the door. Perhaps it's to appease her father, whose glare he can feel even though his back is to the older man, or to ease her conscience. Either way, it works. Pulitzer says nothing as they walk out into the chilly evening, and Katherine has dozed off again in his arms.
"Do you know what the worst part is?" she whispers later, after she's clean and dry and wrapped in blankets and his arms.
He shakes his head, blinking down at her. She's curled against his side, clutching his hand tightly with both of hers. He squeezes them tighter, trying to make her feel better.
Her voice is dull. "I wasn't even acting crazy. After I caught their attention, I just acted like myself."
"Aw, Ace." He pulls her closer, wrapping his free arm around her waist and pulling his knees up behind hers until he's curled around her protectively. "You ain't crazy if that's what you mean."
"I don't know what I mean." She closes her eyes, sighs heavily. "Part of the time, I would catch myself wondering. I mean, even if I was sane when I went in, the things going on in there – it's enough to drive anyone mad."
"It's normal to wonder," he assures her. "You don't even wanna know what you start thinkin' about after bein' in the Refuge for awhile."
She shakes her head – she gave up asking about the Refuge ages ago, hoping it would help Jack's nightmares go away. And it has, a little. "Then, the rest of the time, I was just angry. I mean, just think how many other girls there must be who aren't crazy! They just can't convince anyone of that, since the doctors and nurses don't listen."
"That won't be true for much longer," he reminds her proudly. "Your article's gonna save 'em all."
She frowns, studying his face. "Are you mad at me?" she asks. He frowns back, her erratic mind moving far too fast for him to follow.
"Why would I be mad at you?"
"Because I didn't tell you what I was doing."
Oh. He presses a tiny kiss to the top of her head. "Nah. I wish you woulda told me, yeah. But you did the right thing." He shakes his head tiredly. "What kind of world do we live in where we have to risk ourselves if we wanna help somebody else?"
She lets out a little sigh that tickles his skin. It makes him sad, how hopeless it sounds. "A hellish one, for sure."
"For sure," he says, smiling slightly. Maybe that phrase will cheer her up. And sure enough, she returns his grin, though hers is slow and sleepy.
"But then, I guess it's the only world we've got," she reminds him, and he nods seriously.
"That's why we've gotta clean it up. Fix what the grown-ups did so it won't be like this forever."
"If anyone can do it," she murmurs, rolling over to face him and burying her face in his shirt. Her hair fans out across the pillow, shiny and arranged in her natural curls once more.
He reaches back to switch off the light, then pulls the covers all the way up to her chin so she stays warm. She's stopped shivering now, and her breathing has evened out as the drugs start to wear off.
"This is a good start, Ace. Don't worry. This is a damn good start."
Next chapter will feature nightmares, as per Sheazy Daisy's request. Brilliant idea, darling!
Reviews are confidence boosters!
Much love,
KnightNight