The task was completed at Steve's and Kayla's house; the plan was in place. They had called Isabella and she agreed to her part, anxious to help (especially to Kayla who had gotten convicted and jailed for Marina's murder)

With everything done, the 'doing' gave way to 'thinking.' Jack was weighted down by unhelpful, unwelcome thoughts and they spent the car ride back to the penthouse in near silence.

It was dark out by this time. Nighttime fell early in this part of the year. The dashboard and the passing street lamps provided scant illumination. Most everything was hidden in shadow. The full moon that had shown on them a few days earlier when they stood out on the penthouse balcony had decreased to a third quarter moon and largely hidden behind gray clouds.

Jack wanted to apologize again for Jennifer walking in on that videotape unwarned and unprepared. It had been disastrous timing although she took it extraordinarily well. However, Jack knew they were beyond the constant apologies. Their relationship was deeper than that, stronger than that.

Jack arrived back at the penthouse and parallel parked on the street. He preferred it to the parking garage. With moving out of Harper's house and giving Sheldon three month's severance and letting him go, he was slowly but assuredly transitioning away from being a Deveraux and towards being a Johnson. He didn't want to live an isolated existence behind gates and servants and all of the other unnecessary trappings of his privileged upbringing that kept him isolated from life.

That didn't mean he'd start flying economy. It just meant he stop flying on private planes and automatically choosing his assigned spot in the parking garage instead of the less convenient space on the street.

Jack wanted to reiterate to Jennifer about one point. "I didn't watch the videotape. I couldn't—not after Lawrence came in the room. The only reason I had it on at all was to determined if we had any evidence to help you. I—I wish you hadn't come in-."

Jennifer interrupted him by placing her hand on top of his which was resting on the stick shift. "No. Stop." She let that word hover in the air for a few moments before continuing, "You. Us. Time. My grandmother. ….. Kayla. All of it has helped me regain my strength, regain my voice, re-find me. I'm not that scared girl sitting on the floor of the shower like I was in the aftermath. I'm not afraid to speak anymore. I no longer need to hide myself, curl up inside myself. I think back to how I was. How I couldn't immediately jump into your arms when you gave me your proposal on the rooftop. How I couldn't tell you the truth after I slapped you. How I was paralyzed from speaking the three words that would explain everything: I was raped. I've come a long way since that night that I slapped you. I couldn't spare you from thinking that I was talking about you-please let me finish—that I couldn't rescue you from thinking I had meant to slap you when it was really Lawrence. I have my voice back. I can speak my truth now. You helped me with that. You more than anyone else. By loving me, by standing beside me, by not running away even though I know it was damn hard on you sometimes, for giving me what I needed—whether it was the truth or distance or an escape from the marriage to Lawrence. Knowing that you are beside me and that I have your unflinching support, I know that I am able now to tell everyone including my grandfather and my father and Carly. Lawrence's crimes will not go unanswered."

Jennifer continued on after Jack shut off the engine. Neither made a move to exit the car. "I realized that with everything that happened today. He can't reach me as deeply. He can't hurt me as intensely as he once did. It's not as deep; it's not as wounding, it's not as painful. I'm finding my footing again and I'm feeling like me again too. And that feels great. Today was a test, a pinprick to see how much I would bleed and it wasn't as much as I expected. I'm moving on."

From Jennifer's words, Jack felt emboldened to reach out to her. He'd been wary of touching her ever since she saw the videotape thinking that the revisited memories were too fresh and too raw. He worried that she wouldn't want to be touched just like when they had arrived back home from Lawrence's country.

After several false starts, Jack finally found his voice. "I meant what I said to you before. I will stand by you through all of this—the questioning, the arrest, the trial if he's stupid enough to not plead it out. You are my main concern—my only concern really." Jack picked up her left hand and ran his thumb over the diamond in her engagement ring. "And that's the way it will always be for me for the rest of our lives. I've already vowed it. And I meant every word."

During the time of Jennifer's distance, Jack had refreshed his memory from a prep school assignment. He wanted to invoke the words of the Bard to her once more:

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration fines

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

After Jack finished reciting Shakespeare's sonnet, he shyly smiled. "I hope that borrowing the words of Shakespeare instead of offering up my own does not dilute the sentiment. That is what you are to me. You are my ever-fixed mark. Ask me in twenty-five years or fifty years, if you can still tolerate me, I promise you my love shall remain unshaken despite all of life's tempests that we have endured already and all of life's tempests that I know are to come. My love will not alter through the years. I will love you, just as I do now, though likely stronger, until the day I die."

Jennifer bit her lip. She wanted to cry, happy tears of profound release and relief, but she knew that Jack never allowed himself to cry and she didn't want to make him uncomfortable. So she bit her lip, like she had seen him do and then rushed into a kiss. She cupped his face with both of her hands and held him steady. She never wanted to let go. The kisses, the intimacy were getting easier for her. She allowed herself to enjoy the kiss instead of committing her mental power to timing the kiss before she could (or should) pull out of it.

They stayed like that, kissing in the car for a long time—like two teenagers out on a first date that had no where else to go for privacy. It felt safe, kissing in the car—private, but still in public, outside yet inside, all alone and yet completely observable. There was no chance of it escalating here. She enjoyed it immensely actually. She felt safe. She felt no pressure or no worries. (Not that Jack ever made her worry about their kisses escalating!).

It felt innocent, like a first date between teenagers when kissing was all that was ever assumed. Jennifer loved it; she felt overwhelmed, her mind was swimming. And Jack was an excellent kisser. She didn't know if he had practiced in prep school like she had in boarding school where she and a bunch of her tween friends rehearsed with pillows. Whether it was learned or innate, she enjoyed his skill and technique and the heady chemistry that always existed between them. His kisses were intoxicating, yet safe, and she loved feeling lost in it.

Jennifer needed a temporary respite to regain her breath, to keep her head from spinning, to reduce the crescendoing smoldering desire she was wanting for far, far more. She pulled back for a moment and placed her hand over her heart trying to slow it down.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" Jack asked. His voice was concerned—not husky. He wanted to know if she wanted it to end, not pushing for more.

"No," she answered in truth. She liked kissing him and wanted to continue here and in this car. "I like what we're doing…here."

Jack smiled, reached up to smooth her hair and took the moment to double check the parking break and make sure they hadn't accidentally pushed the stick shift into gear.

About two hours later, the outside cold finally overwhelmed the steamed up car. They decided to abandon the car and their no-pressure enjoyment and headed upstairs to the penthouse. Once inside, neither tried to initiate the pleasure of down in the car. They were finding their ways to enjoy each other within their limits.

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A few days later, Victor and Lawrence had their business meeting set. It was innocently suggested by Isabella to her father and Jack had surreptitiously provided her with the original videotape. Steve had safely secured several copies in case something went wrong.

After Isabella snuck the videotape into Lawrence's briefcase, she called Jack who contacted Steve. Steve had already pre-arranged the arrest from behind the scenes making sure that Roman was the lead officer on the arrest and the case. Everything was ready for their counterstrike.

When they brought Lawrence in for booking, Steve made sure he was there, but in the background, appearing unobtrusive. He wanted to make sure the videotape was there, properly catalogued, and went only to Roman or Abe.

Lawrence gave Steve a long stare. He had immediately grasped that there was more to this arrest than a long overdue need to hold him for the boat explosion. The evidence for that was flimsy, circumstantial at best. It would never hold up in court.

A uniformed office was cataloguing his personal effects and going through his papers. Lawrence wasn't worried. The deal with Victor was legal and sound. Lawrence knew from his background investigation that Steve hated Victor—an antipathy cemented by Victor kidnapping his pregnant wife a year earlier. Lawrence was standing there at the fingerprinting table as the uniformed officer soiled his well-manicured hands with the fingerprinting ink. He knew that he was safe and insulated from any prosecution. Then an officer pulled a videotape out of Lawrence's briefcase.

Lawrence glowered at Steve when he saw it. He had been informed about the break-in at his estate and his security team hadn't been able to determine yet if anything else had been stolen besides the videotapes of that day's security footage. Lawrence couldn't make out the writing on the spine of the tape, but suddenly he knew that tape was the ulterior motive behind this whole farce and drama. And in that moment he realized the content on that videotape. He knew it was from his bedroom on his wedding day. It could be nothing else. Lawrence kept his gaze leveled at Steve Johnson, daring him to act. The Johnsons would not out-maneuver him again.

Steve exhaled, finally, when he saw the tape. Thank you, Isabella. After the videotape was properly catalogued, Steve spoke up, "If you're done with the booking, then get Alamain down to holding." Steve didn't want to say one word about the videotape until Lawrence was gone. Steve had watched the mental gymnastics and Lawrence's mind working when the videotape made its appearance. Steve could even pinpoint the exact moment when realization came to Lawrence about the videotape and he grasped that he had been beaten again.

That was such a satisfying moment. He wished Jennifer—or Jack—could have been here and had seen Lawrence's face.

After Lawrence was escorted, in handcuffs, down to a holding cell, Steve petitioned one of the officers, "Take the videotape up to Captain Roman Brady. Tell him that he and Abe Carver should probably assess it soon-before Alamain's lawyer successfully gets a judge to release him."

The officer nodded. Steve didn't want to rush the guy, but he did want the guy to rush. "Go on now. Capt. Brady needs to evaluate that."

Steve followed up a few minutes later. He sat at a desk outside Roman's office. He couldn't hear anything, but he could see Roman and Abe barely through the slit in the door uncovered by the window shade. He sat there, staring at some reports and paperwork he needed to fill out, but he could not focus on what he was reading.

Then, through the door, it was muffled, but clearly audible; Steve heard screaming from the videotape. He broke his pen in half, hearing it. Shortly after, he heard nothing. Roman and Abe must have muted the tape or stopped it.

The door opened a few seconds later.. Abe was walking out and Roman called after him, "Let me know what you hear from the DA. Glynnis needs to get down here immed-." Roman stopped talking when he noticed Steve at the desk.

Everything came back to Roman in that moment—the motley crew of Steve, Jack, Jennifer, and Kayla the other night, the strange hypotheticals, and now Roman's recommended scenario was playing out right here. But Alamain had been arrested at Victor's house….which probably meant that Isabella was involved somehow too.

He wouldn't question any of them now. They obviously wanted to keep Roman in the dark and preserved in plausible deniability. As long as a conspiracy or planting evidence wasn't confirmed, then Roman was under no obligation to report it. Roman didn't like Steve playing fast and loose with police procedures and tampering with evidence, especially this early in his police career. But he shrugged that off. What he had seen on that tape was just too awful. Lawrence had tried to kill his brother and almost made his sister a widow. He didn't like vigilantism, but he definitely sympathized. He would never call Steve to task on this score. Roman knew that Lawrence belonged in prison.

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Jack and Jenifer had just finished eating dinner and were trying to keep their minds off of whatever was happening at the police station. Neither could get any work accomplished. Neither could make decent conversation. They hadn't heard from Steve so they knew that meant that the videotape and been found in Lawrence's possession and that Isabella had accomplished everything as planned. Both remained in a state of heightened alert and so when the doorbell finally rang, both immediately jumped.

"Play it cool," Jack reminded her. "Remember, you don't know a thing about the tape."

Jennifer nodded, glued to the couch, wary of the inevitable task before her of once more having to recount what Lawrence did. Hopefully, Lawrence would take a plea deal and this would be the last time.

"I'll get the door," Jack said as he was walking towards it. He opened it up and saw Abe and a female police officer that he had seen a few times at various crime scenes when he was getting a story.

Of course, Abe. Jack would always remember Abe as the person who arrested him for Kayla's rape. It made the situation now for him more awkward, but this wasn't about him, he repeated to himself again.

"Abe Carver. What's this about?"

Abe felt the discomfiture of the situation too. "We'd like to speak with Jennifer and understand that this is usually the best place to find her. Would that be correct?"

Jack swung the door open wider so they could see her, "Yes, Miss Horton is here. What's this about?"

"We'd like to ask her a few questions. Can we come in?"

By this time Jennifer had risen from the sofa and greeted them at the door.

"Of course, please," she replied with fake brightness.

"Third time I'm asking, what is this about?" Jack asked. "I don't like the idea of you questioning her without an attorney."

Abe pre-empted that objection, "It's not that kind of questioning. Jennifer, Officer Martinez and I are here to ask you if you would like to file charges based on some information that has recently come to light…about Lawrence Alamain."

This was going to be hard for Jennifer—the playacting that she didn't already know about the tape and the questions themselves. She turned to Jack and grabbed his hand. She led Jack over to the sofa and sat down. "Go ahead."

Abe felt concerned; he remembered arresting Jack as well as Jack did. "Perhaps you might prefer to discuss this in private?"

Jennifer shook her head, "Jack knows everything about Lawrence. If you're asking about Lawrence, then I need him here beside me."

Jack felt Jennifer squeeze his hand tight. She needed him. That still felt strange, foreign. He still didn't see himself in that role, as that man. Being such a heroic man was Jennifer's projection of him and Jo's projection of him, but that wasn't really him. And yet here he was and this was real. He had just recently started to accept that maybe they were right about him after all.

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Glynnis Turner was standing in Roman's office beside him and had just switched off the videotape. By necessity, she needed to watch the whole thing. She needed to know the evidence before proceeding.

Glynnis still felt sick—the things she had to do for her job… "You just got this?"

Roman nodded, "Lawrence was arrested today on unrelated charges and he had it on him."

"No irregularities with the arrest? Nothing to get this tape tossed out on a technicality?"

Roman shook his head, "No, it was a clean arrest. By the book."

"Is Jennifer Horton willing to file charges? The State doesn't need her cooperation in light of such overwhelming evidence, but it would be helpful considering the jurisdictional issues that Alamain's lawyers can raise."

"Abe and Officer Martinez left to go see her." Roman remembered well the hypotheticals asked at Steve's and Kayla's house. "I suspect she will be willing to file charges and be fully cooperative."

Glynnis exhaled; she normally hated prosecuting rape cases. They were notoriously difficult to prove and juries always found a thousand ways to give reasonable doubt and allow a guilty defendant to escape justice. This sickening evidence would make it nearly impossible for Lawrence to weasel out of a guilty verdict now. "Well, Lawrence won't get out on bail anymore. Not with this."

The phone rang; it was Abe confirming that Jennifer would press charges.

Glynnis was relieved for that. "Lawrence's attorney is outside. I'll go give him the news." Glynnis pointed at the VCR. "Get that videotape fully documented—check for fingerprints, signs of tampering, and make a copy. I'll get a warrant for the new charges and to search his home for additional evidence."

Glynnis walked into the interview room where Lawrence waited with his lawyer. She knew the lawyer was going to demand his client's release, even without a bail hearing. She recognized the lawyer when she walked into the room and introductions weren't necessary.

The man's suit was probably worth more than she earned in a month. "Glynnis, thank goodness. Tell me that I can get my client out of here now. These trumped up charges are genuinely bordering on harassment so unless the City of Salem wants-."

She put up her hand to silence him. "Some new evidence has come to light and some new charges are being filed. Your client isn't going anywhere, I suspect, for a long time."

Lawrence had been sitting quietly, carefully gauging the situation. He had been apprehensive ever since he saw that videotape appear among his things. He knew that Jack and Steve had somehow planted it on him. He watched the district attorney when she came in the room, watched her expression, watched her reaction to him. He knew as soon as she stared at him for a brief second upon her arrival and then how she had quickly averted her eyes that this was about Jennifer.

"What is this now? What new charges are the good people of Salem cooking up in their continuing vendetta against my client?"

Glynnis addressed the attorney, not looking at Lawrence, "Your client is being charged with the rape of Jennifer Horton."

"You mean his wife?" the lawyer asked incredulous.

Lawrence stood up, seemingly irate. "That is a filthy disparagement cooked up by her boyfriend because he can't handle—."

"Lawrence," his attorney's warning tone silenced him.

Glynnis didn't acknowledge Lawrence, but merely addressed the attorney, "We're going to take your client down to a holding cell while you and I can discuss the damning new evidence."

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Early the next morning, Jennifer and Jack were sitting at the breakfast table in the penthouse with their coffee and their morning papers—the Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, and the Salem Chronicle—one that Jack read only while figuratively holding his nose.

Abe's questions last night had been difficult for both Jack and her and Jennifer needed to follow-up with DA Turner, but she hoped the worst part was over. They didn't discuss it after Abe and Officer Martinez left, but she knew that was grateful that she wanted him to stay beside her during the questioning. Throughout the entire ordeal with the police, she never let go of his hand.

Jennifer savored the easy domesticity they had fallen into—sharing their meals, sharing their mornings. It was comforting and it reminded her of watching her grandparents as they started their mornings and hoped that they could be like this for always. She knew that many nights that Jack would get out of bed and either go out to the balcony or come to the living room to work for a few hours. She suspected, though he never confirmed it, that the closeness of them sharing a bed night after night, while simultaneously avoiding physical intimacy was not easy for him. She didn't want to stay like this forever and she knew he was patient. He loved her and could wait for a long time. She knew it was just the combination of sharing a bed and creating the availability and the constant accessibility that made the situation more difficult. She knew he didn't want to sleep apart; Jack would hate that worse. This was just their current state and they would get through it and they could restore that last part of their lives together.

Instinctually, she reached over and grabbed Jack's hand, "I love my life with you."

Jack was in the middle of a complex trade agreement article that required his entire focus, but that focus was easily sacrificed and surrendered when Jennifer was looking at him with such love in her beautiful blue eyes.

Jack brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, stopping to kiss each of her fingertips. Jack loved her back, but he still found it difficult to say 'Love you' as often or as freely as she did. "Me too," was what Jack managed to say in response.

The door bell rang at that moment. Jack gave her hand another quick kiss and then he went to the door.

It was Steve.

Steve held his arms out, glee and success plain on his face. "You did it," he said to Jennifer who had followed Jack out to the living room. "Lawrence is in jail and he was denied bail."

Thrilled, Jennifer threw her arms around Steve's neck and jumped into his arms. "That's great! Thank you!"

Steve set her down quickly, "Don't thank me. I just helped the two of you."

Jack wanted details, "So the bail hearing was this morning?"

"Yeah, considering the evidence against Lawrence, the severity of the crimes, his money, and his foreign connections, the judge decided he was a considerable flight risk and denied bail. He'll either plead guilty or be found guilty so he will likely remain in jail for a long time to come."

Jack put his arm around Jennifer and kissed her hair, "You did it. I think the worst is behind you now."

Steve interrupted the moment, "I can't stay long, but I wanted you to hear the good news and I wanted to do it in person. We'll be in touch." Steve wanted to say something to Jack though before he left, "Do you remember what you were saying in the car while we were on the stakeout?"

Jack's eyes darkened, but he nodded. He knew Steve meant when Jack confessed that his past demons were awakening and closing in around him.

Steve gave his brother a look of compassion and understanding. "We got him. And we got him the right way. You did good here."

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Later that day, Roman was passing through the long corridor of the holding cells when Lawrence, looking slightly disheveled and unshaven, called his attention. "What is with your family, Captain Brady?"

Roman stopped and turned, "Excuse me?"

Lawrence started coolly and slowly, "Your brother tries to ruin my life, your brother-in-law tries to ruin my life."

Roman was unimpressed with Lawrence blaming other people, "I think you're ruining your own life."

"I know Steve Johnson engineered that videotape. You might warn him and his brother about their quest for revenge against me. Confucius said once that before you embark on a journey for revenge, dig two graves. Save one for yourself."

Roman's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

Lawrence smiled, "No. Of course not. It's ancient wisdom. You might counsel your sister's husband to remember it."

Roman made no attempt to hide his disgust, "The only grave I know about is that, with any justice, you will be buried at Statesville prison for a long time to come. And if you followed ancient wisdom half as well as you try to dole it out, then you wouldn't be in jail now."

"Remember to give your brother-in-law that message," Lawrence called to him as Roman walked on.

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Several days after Lawrence's arrest was Stephanie's first birthday party. Kayla, Jennifer, and the grandmas had put in quite a bit of time planning it (too much time in Jack's opinion considering Stephanie would never remember the thing). Jack was glad to have a family and glad to be invited, but little kid parties were not something that he ever anticipated that he would enjoy. He hadn't changed that much. But still, there was a long time that he wasn't invited to any parties unless it was due to the Deveraux name or bank account and to be included was a privilege that Jack would not soon take for granted.

Nevertheless, Jack was feeling uncomfortable in the midst of all the pink balloons and little kid folderol in the dining room. He migrated into the living room and away from all the other guests. He glanced over at the table in the foyer with the birthday presents for the birthday girl. One of the birthday presents called his attention. It had a purple flower design; the purple flower was unusual and Jack remembered it well from Lawrence's villa. He remembered Leopold saying that flower was indigenous to his country and had been a favorite of Lawrence's mother.

It was an unusual choice for a little girl's first birthday party. He got closer to inspect the gift; there was no card included and it was sealed with the wide mailing tape, not the thin Scotch-brand tape that most people used to seal presents.

It was strange; it piqued his worry. Kayla came through at that moment and Jack called her attention. "Hi, Kayla."

She was in a rush, "Jack, I'm just gonna grab some matches. We're about to do the cake."

"Do you know who brought this present?" Jack asked pointing at the box that had attracted his interest.

She glanced at it, "No. If you want a kid's toy, then I'll tell your mama to get you a GI Joe or Star Wars action figure for your birthday."

Jack gave a half-smile, "Ha ha. Did anyone send a present that's not here at the party?"

She had grabbed the matches and was heading back to the party. "What? Your sister and mine did," she answered, confused but distracted. "Join in on the fun-if you want."

Jack stayed focused on that present. He was naturally suspicious, but not superstitious. He didn't believe in sixth senses or weird feelings of foreboding, but it just still seemed strange. He checked the cards for the other presents: they all had cards of people either at the party or, like Kayla had said, marked with Kim's name or from Justin and Adrienne.

He looked toward the dining room and could hear everyone, including his brother's rich tenor, singing 'Happy Birthday." When the song was over, Jack went into the dining room as Jo was cutting the cake and Kayla was refereeing Stephanie dunking her face into her slice. "Umm, who brought the present with the purple flowers wrapping paper?" Jack asked.

Some people looked up, but no one claimed responsibility. Jennifer was busy socializing with Carly and just shrugged.

Jack was decided now; he'd deal with this box and its contents and not bother Steve with it. Steve had helped him so much with Alamain already. Jack returned to the foyer and propped open the front door. This present came from Lawrence—he was sure of it. It could not be good and most likely it was dangerous and needed to be out of the house. He remembered the boat explosion and it was only pure luck and chance that a tragedy hadn't occurred. He picked up the present and held it at arm's length. It was very heavy for a kid's gift; at least ten pounds. If he was wrong, then he'd just buy another of whatever was inside. He had enough money and was cheap enough in general that it would be no big deal. There were some advantages to his reputation of being eccentric and somewhat of a jerk (seriously, taking a little girl's birthday present?) that would just make most people shrug it off.

He walked it down to the creek at the edge of the driveway. The water wasn't deep, only about three feet down, but he could toss the box in there and it would submerge. If the gift was dangerous like he feared, then the water would either disable it or hopefully absorb most of the impact. Jack looked around. There wasn't anywhere he could really take cover. Not if he was going to be close enough to the creek to make sure he tossed it in.

Queasiness overwhelmed Jack; he could smell his cold sweat. He could only focus on the box and on his stomach-jumping like an airplane in turbulence. The dreadful memory of the earthquakes and successions of explosions at Lawrence's villa brought him back to his task. This box would not kill him. Somehow Jack would be fine. Regardless of what happened, he would still wake up the next morning.

There would be a tomorrow.

Jack measured the distance, gripped the box like it was a basketball and pitched it forward. He had judged well and it landed in the creek. Like his worst fears had predicted, the box exploded on impact and sent the pebbles and dirt from the creek bottom flying in all directions. Jack hated being right about this sort of thing, but he hated being injured and dirty far more. He flung himself to the earth and covered his head with his hands.