Dishonoring Jack

Chapter Thirty One

"No."

Jack backed away from Donovan, her shoulders shuddering with emotion. He couldn't leave. Not after everything they'd done, everything they'd given up, everyone who'd been lost. Even his words made her stomach revolt. She pressed a hand to her abdomen and swallowed back bile.

"Jack," Donovan said, taking a weary step towards her with an outstretched hand.

"No!" Jack cried, loud enough to draw the attention of Dr. Benjamin, Hannah, and Julius. "No, don't touch me. Don't...don't. Just don't."

"I don't want to leave, Jack," Donovan said, and she saw tears welling in his bottomless eyes. "You know that."

"But you're going to anyways?" Jack demanded, her eyes mirroring his. "You're going to leave after everything we've done for you and pretend like none of this ever happened?"
She wasn't sure whether she was talking about the feud with the Slates or about the growing feelings between the two of them. Either way, he couldn't leave. She would hog tie him and lock him in her outhouse if that's what it took to keep him in Irvington.

"Don't you dare," a voice interrupted them and they turned to find Hannah staring at them by Titus's body, her hair in a halo around her pale, spectral face. She glared at both of them. "Don't you dare pretend none of this happened," she seethed between her gritted teeth, her hands in tight fists while tears welled in her eyes. "Don't let his...his sacrifice go unavenged."

Neither Jack or Donovan knew what to say and Hannah turned away before Jack could summon any words. "See?" Jack hissed at Donovan. "Even Hannah knows that there has to be a purpose behind all of this."

"Jack, it's not that simple, and you know it," Donovan said. He took another faltering step towards her and then collapsed to the ground, his legs giving way.

For a moment, Jack forgot their argument and rushed to his side, kneeling in the dirt next to him. She swept the dark hair from his eyes and cradled his cheek for a moment as her eyes scoured his body for the source of the wound. A rip in his pants just above his right knee revealed congealed, clotted blood from a long knife wound.

"Kitchi, what happened?" Jack asked, examining the wound.

He winced at her probing fingers, leaning his head back and drawing his eyebrows together. "Clyde Slate was...was trying to convince me to sign over the deed. His methods were particularly vicious."
All of Jack's ire and guilt faded at the palpable need before her; no amount of anger or grief could keep her from caring for him. "I'll get some bandages," Jack said.

She clambered to her feet, her body weak from the drained adrenaline and loss of the day. Dr. Benjamin's bag lay forgotten beside Titus's body as he and Hannah gave Titus's body the last rites, cleaning the blood from his clothing and closing his eyelids with their thumbs. They then lifted up the body and started to carry it towards the automobile. Jack said nothing. What could she possibly say to alleviate their pain? Nothing. So she grasped a few bandages from Dr. Benjamin's bag, a needle and thread, and a handful of Aspirin, rushing back to Donovan's side.

He laid back in the trampled grass on his elbows and Jack took in the exhaustion in his features. He had been beaten, abused, and tortured and Jack had ignored him in her desire for revenge. For a brief moment, she understood why he wanted to give up. Was justice really worth all of this pain and death? Jack thought of the Great War raging in Europe and realized that this question went beyond the feud with the Slates. Were the deaths of thousands of soldiers too weighty a price for justice and freedom? She wanted to believe they were, but staring that loss in the face conjured doubt. Just focus, Jack.

She knelt next to Donovan and slowly rolled up his pant leg, ignoring his grimaces. "Careful, Jack," Donovan protested between gritted teeth.

"Just be quiet and laid back," Jack growled, her ministrations lacking the tender care her friends often showed in the hospital.