Chapter Text
This is it. This is the end, the last stop. Not for the train, but for him. There was some sort of solace to be found in the thought that, in a couple minutes, all of the pain and confusion would disappear. No pain, no fear, no unresolved love.
What he wanted now was painfully simple: to see Rusty one last time. To look at him without pretending he didn’t care. To allow himself, for a single final moment, to love him without shame.
The train was going far too fast for Jack to keep his footing without grabbing the walls. Every lurch of the carriage sent a jolt through the wound in his chest, a wound that would never see treatment. He knew he would be dead within the hour. And yet he forced himself forward. Walking through these haunted corridors, listening to his favorite song on the speakers while quite literally dying in search of closure. Why did Rusty do this? So much pain, and for what?
(I really think you're lovely.)
Jack thought that Rusty would have teased him for this. Even after all that happened, Jack Russell Terrier still thought that Rusty Kelpie was lovely.
The tunnel lights flickered through the shattered windows in quick bursts that were too bright and too brief to help him see. The corridor vanished and reappeared in brief flashes that left him nauseous.
He dragged himself along the metal wall, fingers slipping with every step, doing his best not to step on the shattered glass scattered across the floor.
(Still, I think highly of you.)
He almost laughed. Thinking highly of a murderer was surely crazy. Yet, it was fitting. Jack was always crazy for him.
A sudden jolt nearly threw him off his feet. Jack held onto the wall for dear life, breath trembling, his vision going dark at the edges. The wind tearing through the broken windows was so loud it swallowed most of the song echoing faintly through the carriage. But not enough to keep him from making out the lyrics.
It was his favorite song. And, in another life, he would have dragged Rusty to a couch, played it on repeat, and rested his head on the red kelpie’s shoulder. He would have loved to do that every day, just enjoying life with the dog of his dreams, getting to call him his boyfriend, maybe even his husband, but sometimes life can be harsh. These thoughts were but a distant dream he knew the other dog also shared.
That life was gone now. All that remained was this speeding train and the door that separated him from the one who had essentially killed him.
He limped on; the floor shook beneath his paws, the air filled with smoke and dust. The music still played faintly, though it was hard to make out the lyrics while all of this was happening.
(I shared something with you. No one will ever know.)
If Rusty had ever loved anyone, it was Jack. Or, at least, Jack hoped he did. He needed an answer. He wouldn't die without one.
The door to the cab finally came into view, shuddering with the movement of the train. Jack reached out for the handle, but the train shook violently, nearly knocking him down. His paw slipped against the metal as the other held the wound in his chest. It exploded in pain when Jack hit the floor, making his vision blurry and his head spin, but he was too close to give in.
He picked himself up, still holding onto the wall with his blood-stained paw. He needed to find Rusty, the one standing on the other side of that damn door.
There he was, standing in front of the control panel, staring blankly as the scenery sped past them. Still wearing that stupid white tuxedo, now stained with red. Ironic.
The moment Rusty turned and saw him, something broke in the kelpie’s face. His ears shot up; the color drained from his expression. Was Rusty... Shaking?
"Jack!?" Rusty grabbed him by the shoulder, setting him down comfortably against the control panel, then rushing to close the door behind them with shaking hands.
Finally, some peace. The raging sounds of the wind and shaking metal carriages were now a comfortable background noise. Jack could finally focus for once.
(And I hope you think highly of me too.)
Jack chuckled at the lyrics as Rusty scrambled, searching for something. "What are you looking for?" he asked. Rusty seemed tired. Did he get sleep? Such a stupid question. Why did Jack even bother? He was supposed to hate the red dog, but all he could think about was the time he was wasting by not saying anything.
"What are you looking for?" he repeated, noting how frantic Rusty's movements were, opening the first aid kit and rushing toward him.
"Oh. I don't think that's going to be of much help, mate."
"I know. I'm sorry," Rusty said, tending to the wound anyway. His paws trembled so much he could barely hold the bandages. Jack appreciated the help, even if it wasn't going to be enough in the long run. After all that happened, after all that Rusty did, why did he even bother helping?
Rusty looked at him, noticing the confusion in his eyes. He sat down in front of the Russell. Jack could only do one thing now.
"Why did you do this, Rusty?"