Come, Josephine

Chapter 19

1927

Somewhere in Philadelphia

Jack found himself in the city's heart before he had full comprehension of what he was about to do. He meandered between alleyways and slip roads, all while keeping a sharp eye out for danger. He had a habit of finding himself in tricky situations and couldn't bear to be caught up in something at such a crucial time.
He made it to the Hockley Estate at a brisk pace, still out of breath from his sprint towards the glowing city. He couldn't stand to risk loosing Rose again, and he would do everything he could to get her back out. He was only glad that he had insisted on making the trip with her.
He climbed through the hedge, weary of any hounds or manservants that could skin him alive. He couldn't help but be slightly merry at the fact Lovejoy was long dead.
Jack tried to cross the lawn as discreetly as possible, ducking into the shadows of a hedge. He left the safety of the shadows for the unfavourable moonlight, and found himself exposed to the sight of the main house.
It was then, as the moonlight caught a shimmer across his almost-greying hair, that he heard footsteps approach.
He ducked towards the safety of a nearby garden, diving behind a bush. As the people approached, he continued to walk around the bush until he was fully out of sight. As they neared, he heard a soft female voice.
"Are you most certain he's... dead?"
"Of course, Miss Louise, it is most certain. He was in a condition which would not leave room for doubt."
   "And the note?"
   "A suicide letter."
   A pause, and a tearful groan, "oh, what will I do now my master is dead? What about my daughter? My husband is no longer among us!"
   "It will be alright, Miss, there's plenty of better work in town."
   "You're sure?"
   "Yes."
   The voices moved off, and he was sure it was a maid and manservant. He followed them down the path, still listening on the other side of the hedge.
   "What about Miss Rose?"
"She is gone, like the letter said."
She sounded almost sympathetic, "suppose she'll be alright? Mr Hockley was never kind to her..."
Jack turned and ran back towards the boundary. He made it in a matter of seconds, and found himself, once again, running towards the city lights.

Jack rounded the last street, exhausted. He feared what had happened to Rose. He assumed she had pushed him from the window and fled, but whatever he had done to her to provoke an attack... Rose would have fled outright before resorting to murder- a gruesome one at that.
He had combed a great deal of the city, and leaned against an alley wall, utterly defeated. What if Rose was so traumatised that she had run away without the want to return? How would he tell Josie the news?
What if she had been tracked down... recaptured or worse?
He realised he had sank to the floor, as if he had no control over his actions. He wanted to scream, punch something, someone, but he felt weak- helpless.
Jack cradled his head in his hands, and prayed to God that he wouldn't cry. His eyes grew hot and sore the more he thought about Rose, and poor Josie. Nothing panicked him more than coming to terms with his loss.
His heart ached, and beat in a strange pattern. Sickness filled him and something told him he was going to have a heart attack- having a heart attack.
He took a gulping breath, and focused on what he would do to Cal- not that he could do anything- Cal was long dead.
Fuck, he thought, I'm going to leave Josie too.
His head grew heavy, and the world blurred around him. From tears or panic, he didn't know. Maybe death would claim him-
He could still hear her footsteps, he realised, as she bolted towards him that night, long ago. The broken sobs of a girl who had given up, and the heavy breaths that came in an uneven pattern. She would climb the rail-
He raised his eyes, and caught someone running away from him. A girl, with beautiful red hair like his Rose, wrapped in a fur cape.
   On the likelihood that it was an imagining, or another woman, Jack threw himself to his feet and took a step towards the girl, "Rose!"
   The girl carried on her pace for a moment, before staggering to a stop. He noticed she was missing her shoes, and her skirt was torn and bloody. The red fabric was smeared with dried blood and the hem hung awkwardly from the skirt.
   The woman turned to him, and he saw her makeup was horribly smudged. Her face was flustered from her frantic pace-
It was Rose.
   He took a stumbling step towards her, and saw her fly at him. She was in his arms in an instant, sobbing and screaming into his collar.
   He could only make out every other word, and he squeezed his eyes shut against her crying. He didn't want to see her- not in the state she was in- and yet he struggled to look away, "I lost you again," he could hear her sob, "I lost you and Josie."
   It dawned on him that he was not the only one who had come close to death, and pulled away. He gripped her by the sides of her face and met her eyes, "it's okay, they didn't kill us, did they? I'm sure Josie is just fine. It was just a scare tactic."
   She nodded and gulped, "we need to go home."
   He nodded too, and found himself collecting his thoughts, "the diamond?"
   "When I woke up, it was gone-" she scanned him, checking for harm, "who's clothes are you in? Are you hurt?"
   "I had a blow to the head," he scanned her again, "and I suppose these are the man-who-saved-me's clothes. You're bleeding..."
   "Okay,"she nodded again,  "I jumped out of a window- after I killed Cal- and I sliced my leg on the paving."
   He looked down at her leg, and gave a stiff sigh, "I'll carry you to the train station-"
   "Jack-"
   "Rose."
   She relented and allowed him to pick her up, an arm beneath her knees and shoulders. Then, and only then, did they begin the long trek home.