Playing It By Heart: A J.C. Fanfiction Saga

Chapter Seven: Owing Her That

J.C. climbed up the stairs from the subway station and turned left down the street. Ahead of him he saw flashing red lights and heard sirens.

He passed a newsstand and checked his reflection in the store window next to it. After he'd sobered up, he'd taken pains with his appearance, trying to get rid of any evidence of the monster Emma had seen last night. His stomach growled, and he realized he'd forgotten to eat in his nervousness.

He would apologize for his words last night. In explaining himself, however, he'd have to trace back to their near-kiss. He may have to offer a few details of his attraction and how he confused he was.

J.C. sighed. He didn't want to go there. But he'd make sure to communicate that there was no weight to his insults, and beg forgiveness. Then they'd agree to continue their friendship.

She had to forgive him. She had every right not to.

But he hoped she would.

He didn't know what he'd do otherwise.

Clenching his fists, J.C. continued down the street.

* * * * * * * *

Emma had forgotten how to walk.

It was a bad dream, but cemented in reality. Cemented like her feet were to the pavement. Her mouth was still open in a silent O, and no words escaped it.

Kevin. Oh my God.

She closed her eyes slowly, trying to drown out the sirens and squealing brakes with the slow roar in her ears.

She was jolted by a woman's purse that swung into her stomach as she pushed past. Emma shook her head and forced her way through the crowd toward the accident scene. But as she reached the front, a uniformed officer who had instantly materialized held her back.

"Nothing for you to see, miss," he said.

"But he's my ..." Emma choked, trying to catch a glimpse. It couldn't be real. It wouldn't be real to her, until she saw him.

Then. Suddenly.

The paramedics arrived, and a strategically placed officer moved out of the way.

She saw him. She knew paramedics wouldn't need to take him to the hospital.

And she vomited.

* * * * * * * * * * *

J.C.'s steps slowed as he surveyed the accident scene. Something huge has happened, he thought, and craned his head to figure out what. There were no smashed autos, just one white Toyota whose driver, a teenage male, was shaking his head and sobbing as he talked to a policeman. He saw an ambulance. A fire engine.

Then, pushing her way out of the scene, was Emma.

"Emma!" J.C. called before he noticed her face. She looked insane, eyes fixing on nothing in particular, lucky to be walking without tripping. Her skin was ashen, eyes were bloodshot and lips were white.

At the sound of her name her head turned slightly in confusion, but didn't see him. J.C. reached out and grabbed her arm as she walked past.

Startled, she turned around and gave him a blank stare. Then, registering who it was, her eyes threatened to spill over again.

"What's the matter ..." J.C. began.

She said nothing as she reached for his waist and deftly unhooked his cell phone in one motion. He stared as she dialed the operator and asked for the Brooklyn Rehabilitation Hospital to put Laina Dorchester on the line immediately. She screamed at the receptionist that it was an emergency.