a chuisle mo chroí ♡ JFK ✔️

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 #𝟐: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

Not giving a rat's ass about his back, and not wishing to waste any time, Jack scooped Alice into his arms and carried her himself into Parkland Memorial Hospital.

The blood seeped into the fibers of his clothing, reaching his skin. He felt it, and he felt his heart do leaps—it didn't know whether to beat fast or to stop all together.

Alex urged Jack to pass the semi-conscious girl into his arms, to which Jack reluctantly gave in. The agent ran fast through the corridors of the emergency room, not waiting to be received by the staff.

"Mr. President!" Agent Pontius shouted, almost out of breath, when he saw the blood on him.

"It's not mine! Not mine..." Jack's mind trailed off for a second, but he then snapped out of it to follow Alex's path with the speed of a cheetah.

They wouldn't let him in, though. Not only because, at his behest, they started working on Alice immediately, but because everyone was insistent in checking him thoroughly too. They undressed his upper half to make sure that the blood was indeed only the girl's, and not a sneaky wound on him that Jack could've ignored from the shock and adrenaline. This unnecessary measure made him mad, as he was one hundred percent sure that he was in one piece. So he got his clothes back on, and ignored whatever words were being thrown in his way. There was only one thought he could focus on.

My Rosita.

It was the longest wait of his life.

Normally, they wouldn't have taken someone in such a rush, there were procedures in place, but if the President said so, it could not be argued. Especially when they were told of her deed toward him.

There was a lot of pacing. Alex was just as transfixed as Jack. Men and women began smoking out of pure anxiety.

People outside were still weighing the uncertainty of the President's wellbeing. Some already thought that he'd died. This nightmarish doubt made them cry.

Secret service and policemen and deputies in cowboy hats analyzed the limousines outside, looking for evidence.

More people from the motorcade, including Governor and Mrs. Connally were also thoroughly checked for wounds.

All in all, it didn't take that long to sort things out, but for everyone and especially Jack, time had stood still until Alice was brought out from the surgical room.

•

Voices at the other side of the door made Alice rise up like a mummy from the weird, narrow bed.

Consciousness had fully returned to her, and so had part of the events that had gotten her where she was. Even if only in the form of a blurry mess.

So her worried—left—hand reached out for her belly first of all, patting it down, trying to feel if everything was in place, that there was no pain. That the trauma had not caused irreparable and irreplaceable damage.

"My baby, my baby, my baby..." She muttered with panic over and over again and threw the white sheet off at one side so her eyes could scan for even the tiniest drop of blood on the bed.

There was none. And there was no pain in her abdomen. It was a good sign.

But the actual pain that the adrenaline in her body had numbed until then, began to tug at her right shoulder. It was immobilized and there was a bandage around it and around the top part of her arm.

She winced. "Good God in Heaven."

What in the world had happened?

Most importantly, where was Jack? Was he okay?