John F. Kennedy: The End of Camelot

John F. Kennedy: The End of Camelot Ch. 4

Chapter 4

Location: the White House

Character: John F. Kennedy

Day: November 21, 2013

Time: 4:13 pm

The old man who stared at them, well mostly at him, had dark eyes, red rosy cheeks, and pale white skin that glimmered slightly with every touch that showed.

"Hello, Caroline," the man said, nodding his head and pursuing his lips tightly together. "It's been a long time."

"Mr. Hill," his daughter stammered, her eyes wild with shock. "What are you doing out here? In the White House, especially?"

"Mr. Hill" smiled, a bit mockingly but sweet for Caroline's taste. He turned his gaze away from her and looked at John.

The former president shifted in his seat, nervous. The way the old man looked at him wasn't a good sign. The man's eyes were dull not filled with light. His dark eyes looked John over like Fury would. "Who are you?" He asked the man, trying to sharp and cold at the same time.

Hill put his wrinkled hands on the desks and smiled back at the president.

"My name is Clint," he said simply.

John furrowed his gaze and replied, "I dont know a Clint."

Clint sighed again. His mocking tone had stopped. He looked back at John then Caroline before speaking.

"My name is Clint Hill," he replied soflty. "I was a secret service agent during the time of your death."

John peered at him, his eyes glittering with cold calculating. "I don't remember you."

"No you don't," Clint agreed. His expression darkened. "I was the agent that jumped on before everything went black."

John remembered now. A sharp pain had exploded through his back as the agent had lunged toward him. John had felt everything turn black at the moment.

"I don't remember you," he repeated.

Clint made a huff of an annoyance. He scowled at John. "Maybe if you watch my clips, you'll know?"

John nodded his head recently. Clint tapped his fingers onto the desk. "Alright. It can't be that bad."

Clint tapped the desk again and a small holovid flashed on the screen. There was a black limo heading down the road and John saw himself. Smilimg and waving at the crowds only for seconds later for him to be grasping his throat.

John felt the pain again. He remembered the agnoy, the searing pain grinding through him. Jackie's loud screams before everything went black.

He turned his attention toward the screen when he saw his brains splatter everywhere on Jackie's shirt. Blood stained her Chanel suit.

"Father," Caroline whimpered, her green eyes staring into the screen. Her eyes were swollen, almost bruised.

The ambassdor buried her head into John's chest. He felt her tears soak his shirt. He ran his hands across her blonde long hair and murmured some words soothingly in her ear. She cried openly into his shirt, her tears staining him.

"Caroline," he said too softly. "Come on, "Kennedys don't cry. Kennedys don't cry."

She continued sobbing into his shoulder. He looked up at Clint, whose dark eyes were fixed on him.

"It's my fault she's dead," he said plainly, "Jackie knew about you from the start. She didn't tell anyone. Not even her secret service agent who protected her with his life."

"She did?" John blinked. "Did she tell anyone?"

"No," Clint replied. He looked down at Caroline. She had fallen alseep on her father' lap. Her eyes were closed. "She didn't tell anyone. Only Parkland and Jackie knew the truth. I dont even know how the rumor seeped over to the Fury."

"So Jackie lied to the whole clan," John said. His voice was bitter. "She let my father die without knowing the truth. I can't believe it. She was sometimes cold and cruel at sometimes but-"

Clint lowered his voice. "Jackie hid the truth for a reason. She didn't want you to be unfrozen years before. The gash on your head would have still been bad."

John still felt angry with Jackie. She had done this. Why didn't she let him die?