Mission Impossible (Jelsa)

Chapter 39

(So I realized we're already 40 chapters in to Mission Impossible which is really exciting!!! But I also realized I havent been able to bond with my readers a lot, so I have a deal. You can ask me any question you want and I'll answer it:) whether it's about my book or myself! Love you all! I hope you enjoy this chapter xx

-I)

I wake up in a pile of rubble, my head pounding and skin burning. I attempt to stand, feeing pain jolt through my spine. Where am I? It looks like a bomb sight. Sounds of sizzling heat and the smell of smoke and oil is thick in the air. A fresh blanket of black ash cover the uneven remains of some freak occurrence I can't seem to remember.

I feel a sense of relief when I look up to see Jack sitting on a shard of metal. His leather jacket is torn up and what's visible of his skin is dusted in black soot. Scratches and wounds decorate his complexion, but that's nothing new.

"Jack?" I struggle to speak but my voice hardly works. He looks over at me and smiles faintly.

"You're okay." he sighs with relief, but something flickers on his expression that I can't quite read.

"What happened?" I try to get up and he half heartedly assists me before returning to his spot and staring at the ground again.

"Black tried to take you, I fought him off, the plane crashed." He explained before resting his head in his hands.

"Then why are you so upset?" I question slowly as I tame my wild hair.

"There were only three survivors," He eventually huffs, his voice breaking halfway through. "you, me, and Pitch Black." He looks at me. "Elsa, I killed all those innocent people. Their deaths are because of me," I pull him into a hug and he accepts, burying his face into the crevice of my neck.

"Jack," I whisper softly, holding back tears. In all my time of knowing him, not once have I seen him this crushed. He's totally and entirely overcome with distress.

"Are you sure there's no other survivors?" I ask after a long while of watching him fall apart.

"I checked every where." He says, turning away from me and locking his fingers behind his neck. It isn't until now that I notice the way his hands are completely torn up from searching through the rubble. A deep exhale escapes his lips before he speaks again. "I'm a murderer."

"No, you're not." I reject but he won't have it.

"A villain just marched onto our plane and killed every single person on board besides the two he was after. It's not fair to them," He rambles.

"Life's not fair to anyone." I attempt to shift his sorrow to make it seem less dreadful but it doesn't work.

"No," He shook his head, not meeting my eyes. "life isn't unfair. It's the people that are."

"Jack," I whisper sadly, reaching my hand out for his but he pulls back.

"Please don't touch me." He mutters under his breath, backing away. "Don't touch me."