Work Text:
Tangled - Part 2
I.
That button.
Some of the worst luck he’d ever had, and one of the worst things he’d ever done. It’d been an accident, sure, but that didn’t erase it.
Tough man, seasoned private eye, yet still seeing faces in the middle of the night. Hearing the death rattle.
Sure, it had been self defense. But that didn’t change things. Not one bit. And there didn’t seem to be enough booze in the world at times when he needed it to go away.
And now Kate. Kate had that fucking button. She so quickly accepted it as self defense. Expected the best of him. Believed him, he could see that. Still, it didn’t sit right with her. Hell, it didn’t sit right with him.
And so. Her career in one hand, his life in the other.
This was going to be interesting.
And then Cody, poking into things that should be left undisturbed. Poor, good hearted Cody still thinking that love was enough.
Gobshite.
II.
She’d said 36 hours, and at the time she’d meant it. 36 hours to figure out what to do. To figure out which end was up.
Jack wasn’t guilty; not exactly. Not of murder. Not of what they’d accuse him of. She knew it. And she knew he was right about having his ass nailed to the wall if he turned himself in. It would make someone’s career, and there’d be a small scale celebration besides. Jack had an uncanny talent for pissing people off, that was the truth.
He didn’t need that. Not now. Not after his Mum.
And truth was, she’d miss him. He wouldn’t stick around after the dust had settled.
How could he? As much as the guards were her life, this was Jack’s, and a stain on his reputation this large wouldn’t just be shrugged off and forgotten. No. He’d have to leave and hope the news didn’t follow him too far. That clients further afield didn’t have the connections to do background checks.
She wasn’t sure she could live with that, his leaving.
She took a deep breath and mounted Mrs. Bailey’s stairs.
Not sure at all, if she was being honest.
And so she tells him about her Dad, and her Mum, and how she’s lost everyone. How she understands the pain and the darkness and the yawning feeling of being utterly alone. Her voice thickens and her eyes shine and she sits there in her uniform on his rented couch, surrounded by his books and his booze, and she tells him things she’s rarely told a soul.
And, if she’s being honest, what she’s really saying is not about her Father. Or only slightly. What she’s saying is “I know about broken dreams, Jack. I’m alone and it’s awful. I’ve lost everyone and I don’t know what to do, and when I look too far in the future is scares the hell out of me, so I don’t look very often. And I can’t lose you too, not now.”
But he hears something else beyond her words, something that makes him sit up straighter. Something that she can tell is about the case and he’s gone, without so much as a “See you later.” She understands it, but it hurts.
It hurts far more than it ought to, and she doubts she’ll be honest about that.
III.
It all just moved so fucking fast. Too fast, even though that was generally how he liked it.
It was suddenly a sad jumble of Noonan showing him her heart as the final piece clicked into place and then the running, and the fear - for Flood? for Noonan? The sickening thud of metal on flesh, the swirl of lights through the rain-smeared glass and the smell of cordite thick in his nose. It was only afterwards that he felt the hot pain in his shoulder, the wet grinding of lead in flesh and blood and bone.
All too fast.
All so sad.
Noonan. Would she understand? That he'd heard her, heard every word.
Ah, Kate, I get it. I don’t know what I’m going to do about it yet, but I get it.
Christ, Kate, be patient. It’s all been moving so fast.
And then just like that, she takes his goddamn breath away. Meets his gaze, unflinching, sassy as hell.
An indrawn breath.
That fucking button again. It sits on the table like a promise. A dare.
The pipes start up, and she’s looking right at him. Singing about love. Words that haven’t made sense in a long, long while.
And he’s leaving again. Walking out on her, again.
But things are moving slowly this time.
An exhalation.
“I heard every word, Kate. Every word.”