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"Princess…" he choked. A solitary tear making its way down his cheek as he tightened his arms around himself. The stinging ends of his hair barely noticed where the wind whipped them against his face.
He ached to take her hand in his, to feel her give that little squeeze back as he threaded his fingers with hers. Instead he was staring over the back of the boat towards the last place he'd seen her; the volcanic island disappearing below the horizon. The island that had given him a glimpse of happiness only to ruthlessly tear her away.
He squeezed his eyes shut as sobs fought to break out. It was worse than losing Mike. Worse than having to go on the run. Worse because he finally found someone to live for. Someone who believed in him, who knew his past, saw him for the broken person he was and loved him anyway.
They should have been making this journey together but instead the rescuers didn't even know she was missing.
Official sounding voices grew louder behind him and he tensed. Forcing fists to lower to his sides he tried to focus on the sensation of nails gouging into his palms, to feel anything other than the gaping emptiness that threatened to overwhelm him. The last thing he needed to do right now was draw attention to himself or he'd be spending the next chunk of his life behind bars.
She wanted him to live for her, wanted him to fight to clear his name, but all he knew how to do was run.
"I could've done it with you, but I can't do it for you." He whispered, his words torn back towards the island where he'd left the shattered remains of his heart, "I'm just not that person without you."
Swallowing against the lump that made it's home in his throat he made his way back towards where 'The Hartfeld Kids' huddled together in silence. Hopefully being grouped with them would keep his identity off the radar a little longer, though that wouldn't last once they docked and the questions started.
He managed to keep a low profile while the boat nosed its way into port, blending with the group as they disembarked. Watching, waiting, ready to seize the moment he was sure would arise. A moment the media seemed happy to provide as reporters surged past the barriers towards them, cameras flashing over a cacophony of shouted questions. Word was out that the missing college kids had been found, and everyone wanted to break the story. He made the most of the opportunity, slipping unnoticed into the crowd. It was something he was good at by now, maybe the only thing he was still good at.
Only one person saw him go. Estela's dark eyes solemn yet unusually bright as she inclined her head before turning her back and asking a question, trying to distract the officials a little longer. It must have worked because despite feeling a target itching between his shoulder blades, no one stopped him as he made his way through back streets and bartered a ride. It wasn't much more than a glorified fishing boat but Jake wasn't in a position to be picky, he needed to get away fast and this was going in the right direction. He forced himself to focus on moving forwards, on reaching Costa Rica where the officials wouldn't care enough to give chase.
It was only after he arrived back at the cabin he'd lived in before, that he allowed himself to think about what he was running from instead of to. Dropping his bag at his feet, he sank onto the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he pictured the island as he'd last seen it; growing smaller in the distance.
This time two days ago they'd thought Rourke was the worst thing they had to deal with. The day before had been the happiest of his life. He'd gotten married.. Him married. What a crazy thought..
Bundling his jacket as a pillow he laid back on the bed, waiting for the pain to rush back and tear at him again. He'd expected to break, but instead he was numb; as though a wall lingered between him and his emotions.
"Maybe I can do this after all" he thought absently as he drifted into sleep.
*
He woke the next morning, instinctively reaching for her at his side only to find the space empty. Opening his eyes, he expected to see her nearby, getting coffee or breakfast or something. When he found the room empty he blinked at its familiarity. Then he remembered. Remembered that she was gone. Remembered the last time he held her on that rooftop, trying to support her as she saved them all. Remembered the moment there was nothing to hold anymore as she turned to stardust in his arms. Remembered that she'd never fall asleep curled up next to him again. That he'd never be able to hold her close and run his fingers through her hair. Never hear her laughter or feel the touch of her lips. Never have her curse at him again or mock him or call him Top Gun in that silky voice of hers.
The soft numbness from the night before vanished and he let out a cry of anguish, tears pouring out of him; incoherent sounds forcing their way out of his throat until it physically hurt.
He couldn't imagine having to go on living without her. He needed her. To see her. To feel her warmth. Her touch. Anything, just to have her near. To hold her one more time. To hear her voice in something other than that damn voicemail.
He reached for the half drunk bottle of whiskey tucked under the edge of the bed... Maybe if he drank enough he could convince himself it wasn't real. He pressed play again and again and again, until he had the whole thing memorised; and then he pressed it another time, just needing to hear her. He listened and drank over and over, until the words blurred and so did the walls, and still he choked out heartbroken gut wrenching sobs with his phone clutched in one hand, their handfasting ribbon in his other.
*
Estela arrived just under a week later, the soonest she could get a plane out without arousing suspicion. It didn't take much asking around to find out where he was staying.
"You've let yourself get clumsy Cabron." she muttered softly as she made her way to his cabin.
She knocked but no one answered. Walking round the cabin she peered in a low grubby window, the curtains parted just enough for her to make out a body on the floor. Was she too late? Had someone from Arachnid found him? Had he done something stupid? Biting back panic, she went to the only door, directing a solid, single kick just to the side of the lock.
"Wha..?" the mound on the floor grumbled as the door flew open and she sucked in a breath of relief, wrinkling her nose and wishing she hadn't as a plethora of unpleasant smells hit the back of her throat.
With a purposeful step to one side, she ran her eyes critically over him. It was definitely Jake, though he hardly looked like the pilot she'd come to respect on La Huerta; and he stank worse than people she'd fought weeks in jungles with, looked like he hadn't shaved since he left the island too. She raised her eyes to the ceiling trying to decide the best approach to take before nudging his hip with the toe of her boot.
Screwing up his face Jake opened one eye, peering bleary-eyed at the figure standing over him. Any irrational hope it might have been Jayden disappeared as he forced his eyes to focus enough to see dark hair. He closed them again, knowing he should be bothered someone found him but unable to summon the energy. "Go 'way" he grunted.
That booted toe nudged into his hip again, gentler than it could have been. Probably not here for the bounty then. He frowned, forcing an eye back open as the woman crouched before him and he realised he recognised her.
"Oh. Katniss? What d'ya want?" He considered closing his eyes again but remembered the stubborn streak she rarely bothered to hide. Reluctantly he dragged himself into a sitting position offering up an almost empty whisky bottle instead. "Want a drink?"
She plucked the bottle from his fingers. "Sure, but not while you smell like that. Get a shower, get changed, and then maybe we'll have a drink?"
She moved her arm out of the way as he reached for the bottle back. "I said after you don't smell like a homeless drunk anymore." She climbed back to her feet with a grace that always surprised him, taking his remaining whiskey with her as she stepped out of the door. "I'll be just out here. Don't push me. I will come back in and wash you if you don't do it yourself. It won't be pleasant."
As the room settled into companionable darkness again Jake frowned at the door, blinking through a drunken haze as he made a half-hearted attempt at waking up properly. Did I imagine that? He grimaced and shook his head, immediately wishing he hadn't as the room span and refused to settle, his almost constant headache pounding behind his eyes. Katniss wasn't here. She was gone. They were all gone. Gone like Jay was gone, leaving him alone once more. He slumped defeated to the floor, hardly noticing when his head connected with the wooden surface.
A familiar voice called ominously back through the door causing him to flinch. "I don't hear movement..."
Okay. Maybe Estela was here. That or his drunken mind had gotten better at imagining people, and if that were the case Katniss certainly wouldn't be his first choice of hallucination. "...movin' already," he grumbled. Forcing himself unsteadily to his feet he grabbed at the drawers as the floor swayed beneath him and his stomach threatened to rebel; reminding him he hadn't eaten anything in days.
He managed to make his way to the sink, placing both palms on the edge with a shudder as he met the bloodshot hollow eyes of the broken man looking back at him. Saw his reflections lip curl up in an attempt at a snarl... "Can't she just leave me to... To what? Drink myself to death? Nothin' means anythin' anymore."
He wondered if he could get away with just splashing water on his face, but no - Estela wasn't to be pushed. She'd make good on her threat to wash him. Stepping out of his clothes and under the shower he reluctantly admitted he felt a little better. The tiles were cool against his palms as he leaned his weight onto them, water pounding on the top of his head and running down his face. Water that mixed with tears as his thoughts inevitably turned back to Jay. His Princess. A nickname that started as something to irritate her with, but ended up being so much more personal.
He grabbed for the bottle of shower gel and made a half-hearted attempt to wash, not bothering to shave or brush his hair. Staring at his reflection once more he thought it should meet Katniss's demands.
Making his way over to the door once he was dressed again, he stumbled round numerous discarded bottles he didn't remember drinking. He almost tripped over Estela on the step as he opened the door and blinked against the unfamiliar daylight. Lowering himself to sit beside her, he raised a single eyebrow when she took a swig from a full bottle of whiskey before offering it to him. "I know I'm drunk Katniss, but even I know that bottle was near as empty."
She gave a half smile and reached her free arm down to lift the almost empty one from at the other side of the step. "You didn't actually think I was going to drink out of that did you?"
Feeling something unknot inside him he gave her the closest thing to a smile he'd managed since his world came crashing down a week ago. "You're alright Katniss. You know that?"
"You're not so bad yourself. Let's see if we can keep you that way."
*
She stuck around long enough to force him into living, cooked for him and nagged him to eat; forcing him to acknowledge another person in his miserable heartbroken existence. Saw when he started sliding into despair again and stopped him before it became too desperate, especially on days he spent too long staring out at the sea.
Sometimes she'd join him on the beach, a quiet support at his side as he railed against the universe, against Vannu. Sometimes she'd lean against the cabin wall watching from a distance, but he always knew she was there.
On good days he appreciated her company, knowing she had family and a life she wanted to get back to; but for some reason she stayed for him. Other days he included her in the list of things he hated and took out his frustrations on her. Those were the days she waited patiently for him to run out of energy and collapse to the floor before helping him to bed, holding him while he broke and cried for his lost wife.
*
He didn't know who decided they were going to meet back up for the anniversary of her death. It was a stupid idea. He wanted to stay in his cabin, evade Estela and drink himself into oblivion. He didn't want to spend time with them. With people who would try to get him to talk about things he didn't want to think about much less discuss.
Once again it didn't matter what he wanted and he found himself bundled onto a plane when the others arrived, with Mike piloting them to La Huerta. Even the sight of his back from the dead best friend couldn't pull him from his depression… If anything it made him feel worse, the words he'd spoken to Jay on that night coming back to torment him.
"If that's true… it would mean everything to me."
Stupid, hateful words that he'd do anything to take back, words he was afraid had influenced her decision to sacrifice herself. It meant a lot to have Mike back, but not enough for that. Nothing could ever be enough for that.
They made a bonfire on the beach like they'd done that first night and took turns speaking words that were supposed to be comforting, but Jake didn't hear any of it. He ignored them all as they tried to include him, refused to speak to them, to do anything that might drag him away from the drunken cocoon he'd done his best to wrap himself in.
He knew he was being unreasonable but couldn't seem to care, part of him hating them for getting their chances at a happily ever after when his had been shattered.
He stayed up long after everyone went to bed, ignoring the concerned glances the others threw his way as they left; not seeing when Estela bade them goodnight and crept back into the treeline to keep watch over him. His eyes locked unfocused on the ocean, his thoughts filled with bitterness and self loathing.
He fought against sleep, trying to believe that if he stayed up long enough she'd come back. That maybe if he hoped hard enough, whatever magic mumbo jumbo Vannu had pulled would release her back to him and he could hold her in his arms once more.
He didn't know he was going to speak until the hoarse words ripped from his chest. "I was broken before I met you. I knew that, but I didn't know how badly. You made me whole again. But I couldn't save you… Come back to me Princess, just please… Come back."
When the sun's rays crested the horizon he launched the remains of his whiskey bottle into the ocean and screamed until his throat hurt.
"What happened to a year and a day? You should be here with me." And then he cried until he fell asleep on the sand.
The other catalysts found him there a couple of hours later and agreed to cut their planned visit short.
*
He went back to Costa Rica and so did his shadow Estela. She started suggesting he cut back on the amount he drank, but always stopped short of actually trying to force him.
They settled into a now familiar routine but the bad days were beginning to outnumber the good and he found himself wondering - not for the first time - why she stayed, and what he'd do when she finally tired of dealing with his shit and left. That heralded another cycle of despair and self loathing, when had he become this pathetic mess…. Oh right. That was when...
He was still mainly drunk a couple of months later when news came through that everything was finalised for his court date. He stared at Estela in shock when she told him. "You what Katniss?"
"You heard. It's time to start trying to sort your life out."
His mouth fell open and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "They did what? Even after I ignored them at the anniversary?"
"Oh, They've been working on it long before that." She gave a sad half-smile. "Just because you shut yourself off doesn't mean everyone else stopped caring. They are your friends, you know. We care."
He hung his head in shame. He hadn't even considered they might look into things for him, especially not that they'd get this far while managing to keep him out of prison. He couldn't begin to imagine how much time and effort they'd put into that on his behalf.
It seemed the remaining Catalysts and Mike had done the background work and all he had to do was testify… sober… The thought terrified him, though he wasn't sure which part he was most afraid of.
Estela kicked him off the island for his hearing. Literally dumped him on a plane after arranging for the others to meet him at the other end. She'd hidden his alcohol the last couple of days and threatened his pilot with such ferocity not to allow him near any on the plane, so Jake was reluctantly sobering up when he landed. He was in serious withdrawal though, and wasn't dealing well with thoughts that the alcohol had kept him cushioned from.
The twelve of them rented a house and stayed throughout his case, taking it in turns to keep him company and keep an eye on him. Mike stood in for Estela who'd finally been able to go home. With hindsight it was a good thing they did. If he'd been left alone the first thing he would have done was grab a bottle again, and showing up drunk and incoherent to his hearing would have ruined all the work his friends put in.
They threw a party the day the court case finished and him and Mike were officially declared free men again; dishonourable discharges overwritten with outstanding service medals, and enough compensation that neither of them would have to work for a good long while.
The others meant well, but they were too happy, too enthusiastic, too bouncy and the victory felt hollow. "I saw this with you, but you were supposed to be here to share it with me." He whispered, stepping outside for some fresh air and raising his face to the stars. "It's nothin' without you here."
*
He spent time with Rebecca and his mum after the case was over. It was nice to see them, for them to know he was alive and innocent, but again his words from that night on La Huerta haunted him.
"I'd really like to see my family again… and Mike."
As with Mike, they couldn't replace the girl who'd given her life so he could have them back. Even knowing it was unreasonable, he found he couldn't forgive them for the exchange.
They left after a week with offers for him to come and stay, but they knew he wouldn't take them up on it. He never did go back to his grandparents either. He'd wanted to share it with Jay, to show her parts of his life from before. Without her it just felt like another part that was pointless now.
Everyone drifted off back to their lives after his family left, until there was only him and Mike. They stuck together for a while, renting a place in the city. It was good catching up at first but they found it hard to settle back into the easy camaraderie they'd once shared, both dealing with their own issues. Mike was less willing to put up with his crap than Estela had been and it got so they argued frequently. He wanted Jake to move on, which he couldn't do. More than that - and what irritated Mike the most - was that he refused to even try.
After one of their increasingly frequent arguments Jake sat on the windowsill in his room, staring out over the river, whiskey bottle in hand. "How can they expect me to forget ya Princess? I wasn't goin' to let anyone in ever again, but you managed, you found your way into my heart. I knew it would break me if I lost you, but I couldn't help fallin' in love anyway. You were my whole life and now they want me to sweep up the pieces and move on? Even If I could, I don't know if I'd want to. I let you down. I couldn't save you. Maybe I deserve this."
He shut himself away, hardly leaving his room unless it was to get more alcohol. Eventually Mike couldn't deal with him anymore and kicked him out.
With nowhere else to go Jake checked himself into the first motel he saw. It was strange being able to walk up to the desk openly and use his ID to get a room, but the novelty wore off when the door closed and he was alone. Truly alone for the first time since Estela arrived on the island. Unable to stand the silence he wandered off to find a bar.
He wasn't consciously looking for trouble, but found himself in one of the rougher bars in the area. When a muscled skinhead guy with tattoos down both arms barged into him, and glared at him to get out of the way Jake sneered instead of backing down. He didn't throw the first punch, but he made sure the ones he did throw counted. They were both bleeding by the time Tattoos friends separated them and he got thrown out. He tried a couple more bars but the doorstaff took one look at his blooded face and torn clothing and refused to allow him in. Instead, he bought a couple of bottles on his way back to the hotel. Closing the door behind him once more he touched a hand gingerly to his jaw, glad to feel something physical; to feel anything other than self pity or emotional pain.
*
The second anniversary was worse in some respects. Jake wasn't sober for it, but he was closer than he'd been at the first one. He still didn't remember much, spending most of it sitting by the fire winding their handfasting ribbon round and round in his fingers. Again he stayed awake all night staring out at the endless ocean, silently begging her to return; and again he was still alone when the sun came up.
He hardly spoke with Mike that year, It was too soon after the hurtful things they'd hurled at each other. Diego found out Mike had thrown him out and offered him a place to stay.
Living with Varyyn and Diego - seeing them happy with the life he'd wanted, the life he'd had taken from him - it hurt and he tried to cope by distracting himself with a string of one night stands. People whose names and faces meant nothing and he struggled to remember anything about them afterwards. He knew Diego and Varyyn disapproved but neither called him out on it. Out of everyone Diego was the person closest to understanding what he was going through.
When he started to see her eyes staring reproachfully from the nameless faces he stopped, finally realising it was hurting more than it helped.
*
By the third anniversary he was still staying with Diego and Varyyn, though he managed to patch things up with Mike that visit.
As they sat chatting around the bonfire he took another drink and looked round the group, realising they were the only people in the world apart from his mum and sister who cared. The only ones who would even notice if anything happened to him. They were also all he had left of Jay, the only people who'd been through that unbelievable trip with him, who shared some of his memories; and he'd been treating them like crap. It was a wonder they still spoke to him, that they wanted anything to do with him..
He vowed to make it up to them, or at least be better around them.
He spent the night at the beachfront deep in thought, trying to find a way to remember Jay without the raw hurt. He didn't manage, but he felt a little more at peace that night, almost as though she watched the sun rise with him. "Miss you Princess," he whispered as he fell asleep on the sands.
*
Diego helped him move to his own apartment shortly after that visit. He spent those first couple of months on his own staring at the bottom of a whiskey bottle again, until one day he woke up and really looked round the apartment. He winced at his reflection in the mirror when he went to the bathroom.
"You'd kick my ass if you saw me like this wouldn't you Princess?"
That day he delayed listening to her message until the worst of his hangover had passed, and purposefully moved the alcohol out of his reach before he pressed play. He went to sleep sober for the first time in months, clutching his phone to his chest.
The next day and the next he spent the entire day thinking of her, tears streaming down his cheeks as he avoided the whiskey bottle lurking in the cupboard by the sink.
He'd been sober pretty much constantly since then, even if some days it seemed like he'd switched an alcohol addiction for a caffeine one. He still listened to her message daily, but it was once a day now, and sometimes he could even smile at the sound of her voice instead of breaking down.
He started running again, and then going back to the gym. It was hard realising how far out of shape he'd fallen, but it gave him a focus and took his mind off Jay when his thoughts inevitably turned dark again.
He'd even taken a pilots refresher course and been cleared to fly. It made a nice change to be able to pilot them all to the fourth reunion instead of Mike having to cover for him. Mike still joined them of course, somewhere over the past few years he'd found himself included as one of the group.
Again Jake stayed up long after the others retired to bed. This time he laid staring up at the stars, wondering which direction was hers. He closed his eyes as the sun came up, willing himself to feel her beside him.
"Miss you too, Top Gun" he almost thought he heard her say as the waves crashed along the beach.
*
That had been almost a year ago now. Life was… well…it was continuing. He'd taken the odd piloting job and had even managed a relationship of sorts for a couple of months. A girl from the gym. Aveline. They'd been running buddies for a while and they'd fallen into spending more time together. Kissing and making love was merely 'nice' rather than the fireworks he'd once shared with Jay, but he didn't begrudge Aveline that. He was beginning to think it was a once in a lifetime thing the two of them had shared on the island.
He was content enough, but when Aveline started dropping hints about their future Jake had to admit that was a step he wasn't willing to take. He may have promised Jay a year and a day, but in his heart it had been forever. He couldn't marry anyone else.
Aveline didn't respond well when he told her he had no intention of getting married. They had a massive screaming row about it, though thankfully he had enough self preservation not to mention he still considered himself married to Jay.
She didn't call or come round during the following week. He had a feeling he was supposed to be realising what he was missing in her absence but instead he found he didn't miss her at all. The day she did try calling he switched the phone to silent and hunted out pictures of Jay.
He sat cross legged in the middle of his bed, pictures spread over the quilt. Most were from the island, but Diego had given him some of her before the trip too. A couple were of the two of them in the pool and he wasn't sure who'd taken those. Another was their handfasting. Some he'd taken with his phone early on when she wasn't looking. When she was still just a barely legal college girl he was trying to deny having a crush on.
Aveline had basically told him to 'get over himself' the last time they spoke. He traced a finger gently over Jay's face in a close up he thought Quinn might have taken. "It's you I can't get over Princess. I've tried. I've even managed to get myself sorted back out. But it's still your face I see every night when I go to sleep. Your voice that I hear as I start to go about my day. I'm trying to live for you, but no one can ever replace you."
He smiled a sad smile as he boxed everything back up and returned it to its place on the shelf.
"Time to head out Princess." He whispered to the room as he locked up and left the house. "Catch you later okay."
Autumn was wall on its way out. It would soon be time for those weirdos who called themselves his friends to start nagging him about their annual trip to La Huerta.
What was it he'd called them once? Her band of rugrats? Group of reprobates? rascals? something like that. Strange to think how they'd managed to stay friends without her. Maybe she was still the glue that bound everyone together.
He curled his fingers round the worn ribbon in his jacket pocket, looking up at thick heavy grey clouds that were threatening snow.
"You'd hate this Princess. You never did like the cold weather."
He paused as he crossed the street, the strangest feeling of deja vu crawling down his spine. It made him itch, and his instincts went on high alert looking for the danger.
… No danger.
He took a couple more steps before feeling a pull in the opposite direction. Puzzled, but never one to ignore a gut feeling, he allowed himself to be led a little further back down the street and round a corner.
… No danger, but whatever the pull had been it had stopped. He was about to walk on when he thought he heard a voice he'd never expected to hear again.
"Can you spare any change?"
A tiny voice, barely an audible whisper in the busy streets.
"Anyone, can you spare any change?"
His eyes dropped to a figure with huddled knees. A thin summer jacket and dirty blond hair sticking out from beneath a plain baseball cap. Arms wrapped tightly around herself to try fend off the cold.
He felt his heart stop… Surely there was no possible way
"...Jay?"
The girl lifted her head.