Jack caught footsteps coming closer.
They didn't belong to Rose.
Rose didn't have that firm tread. No it was a man's stride. The moment Jack started pondering just which men he knew, who would come here at this time of the day, he felt an unwelcome weight against him.
What on earth was he doing?
I can't breathe.
Jack wanted to move, wanted to free his hands to push back this person. The pain in his neck became nearly unbearable as he tried unsuccessfully to open his mouth. All that came out was a muffled sound – certainly not audible to anyone.
He wants to strangle me.
This person wanted to kill him.
Slowly, but surely Jack started panicking. It didn't seem like this person would stop with what he was doing and help was nowhere in sight.
Alright, Jack, stay calm. You can get out of this. Remember you've been through a lot of more horrible situations.
He used the brief disruption of weight to inhale a bunch of fresh air.
"That doesn't make any difference, Jack. You're going to die anyway."
Roger
Now that Jack knew his enemy he was even more alerted. This man hated him. He detested him on a personal level more than Caledon Hockley ever had and ever would.
He was in great danger and since he couldn't rely on other assisting him now he needed to find out a way himself.
"Come on…die…die…"
The pressure intensified again.
Jack managed to momentarily open his eyes careful not to let him know he was awake. The feverish look on his face shocked him, but more out of sudden understanding than of fear – he had never seen this expression on anyone else before, the expression of someone who was ready to kill – no matter what the consequences.
Jack knew he would die now, if he didn't get the upper hand – and fast, because time was closing up.
He began moving up his arms under the blank sheets.
Another glance at his enemy and realizing he wasn't seeing anything got his left hand out from under the covers.
Roger stopped for another second.
This was his chance – now or never.
…..
"Whoa…!" the look on his face was priceless, when he noticed the hand pushing him away and Jack opening his eyes. "You're dead."
Suddenly white as newly fallen snow he stumbled backwards and Jack took the opportunity to sit up in bed.
"You're a ghost!"
Jack's expression changed from gratitude of getting out to disgust and he quickly drawing out his feet half-standing, half-sitting lunging for Roger Lindsay.
For sure the other one had seen that one coming and in his turn now grabbed Jack's shoulders dragging him out of bed.
"You're not going to win."
Jack felt a punch in his stomach, thinking down to the floor for the span of a minute.
God that hurt…
He barely managed to stand up again.
"You're still sick, Jack. Aren't you?"
Deep down he knew that he was being unfair with what he was doing. But then again he had never been a model of decorum and he didn't plan to start now.
"In your current state you don't have chance against me. Better accept that and I will make it easi…," at this he was stopped by a knock against his feet. "Ahew, you little…"
"Now, I'm not going to have any more merci with you."
"If you didn't want it the soft way you're going to face the hard one."
Jack didn't get any chance to wonder as he soon a cold steel against his chest.
He's going to stab me!
"See you won't get out!" Roger told him observing his shocked gaze for a moment. "I don't know how you managed to survive the poison…," another blow from Jack's side though it wasn't anymore affective than the others before. "…but now I'm finally getting rid of you."
Jack was lying on ground bleeding out of his neck and chest-side and he noted Roger sneering, laughing, when he noted the red spilling against the floor.
He was bending over him whispering into his ear.
"Now you're dead, Jack and your life…you wife will be mine."
Rose!
So that's what he wanted.
It had been no stupid imagination, when he had seen them last together. He wanted him dead to steal his Rose.
Roger meanwhile had seen the look on Jack's face knowing now how he understood that there was no way out for him.
"She's with child, Jack. We're going to have a family. She's giving me what she refused to give you, Jack."
He heard Jack coughing obviously drawing together the last strength he had left.
"Please…," he got out raspingly.
"No, I'm not going to pardon you, Jack. I'm sorry but everything has got to end and now you…"
He drew back his hand to make the final strike more severe for Jack.
Now he was glad that Jack would know his murderer.
Just as he was about to stab Jack one last time a hand – two hands – stopping him and drewing him away from Jack.
"What the hell?"