Part 1: You Say Goodbye
By Daizy ([email protected])
Author's Note: There's two kinds of stories I've been wanting to do lately. One is P/Jen, because I'm very pro-P/Jen and there's far too little written about them. Also, when I did Hearts of the Children, I felt that I really dug into something in their dynamic that I liked. The second thing I want to do is a Jack/Jen friendship piece. These two are my greatest joy on the show. I think their friendship is one of the most genuine things that's ever come out of DC. So, I thought I would try and combine the two. So this is a P/Jen romance, along with some Jack/Jen friendship, and of course the necessary overall angst. Thus, its title: Friends and Lovers.
Somewhere on the verge of waking, Jen could already tell what was happening. She already felt the slight burning in her throat and the pounding in her head. As she stretched, yawned, and tried to pull herself out of sleep, it only got worse. She felt that aching in her muscles and joints, that cold tender feeling on her skin. She was sick. Just what she needed on today of all days.
As she coughed wearily and moaned, she could hear Jack. His quick, heavy footsteps echoed through the rooms. So he was really going through with it. Jen rolled off the bed to her feet, slipped on her slippers and robe, tossed her hair off her face and stepped into the hallway.
She could see Jack in the front room, trying in vain to pick up a large box. She felt a tug in her stomach, worse than the tiny ones she'd felt for the last few weeks. This one made her feel slightly ill, a little dizzy, or maybe that was just her fever. She watched him as he finally managed to pick up the box, but he left without noticing her. Typical.
Jen plodded to the kitchen, looked at the coffee pot and felt briefly nauseous. No, it would probably be a better idea not to completely wake up this morning. Colds are best handled in a slightly dazed stupor, she decided. Instead, she turned to the refrigerator in search of some orange juice. Grams always used to give her orange juice when she was sick, orange juice and chicken soup. Sadly, the only beverage she could find was a half-empty can of Diet Coke that she was sure had been sitting there for several days. There wasn't any soup, either. She was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday. She was supposed to do a lot of things yesterday.
At least it was summer break. She wasn't teaching at all, just continuing her work on her dissertation. It was relieving to have that extra load off her back. The dissertation wasn't at all threatening, she was starting to think she'd never finish it because it didn't have a deadline included. If she wanted, she could keep working on it for the rest of her life.
Jack was suddenly back in the room, an eager look on his face. It was one of the few things he shared with his sister, that look. It was all bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, go-get-'em vigor. Jen felt mildly resentful, but not completely. After all, she'd be ecstatic if she were in his shoes. Of course, she'd also be a little more sympathetic.
"Up late," Jack said.
Jen sniffed in reply, then reached for a tissue and blew her nose.
"Feeling okay?" he asked, a little more attentive.
"Fine," she said, although it sounded a little like "fide" with the stuffiness in her nose.
He nodded, whatever momentary concern he'd shown fading. He moved past her into his room, then emerged with another box. "Last one," he said as he went back out the door.
It was the last one, she realized as he left. Not one of his belongings was anywhere in sight. The apartment felt empty to her, despite the multitude of things inside it. It was tidy, though, that was Jack's doing. He'd always been the one picking up after her, organizing her chaos. She insisted he would only get things lost, but she never stopped him. He took some perverse joy out of straightening things up. He was a McPhee, after all. She realized that there would be no one to pick up after her now. The apartment would turn into a pigsty, papers and books strewn across tables and chairs, coats tossed on the floor. Jack would disapprove. If he were around to see it.
Jen fought the urge to cry. It was lucky she did, too, because Jack reappeared only a few moments later. What would he think if he saw her so upset? Wasn't she the one who told him to go? Hadn't she insisted that she'd be perfectly fine without him? "You'll hate yourself if you don't," those were her own words. She hated herself for saying them. She was being selfish now, but it was much easier not to be selfish when the future was still off in the distance. When it's staring you right in the face, you go with your gut instinct, that habitual self-defense.
She wished he wouldn't go. She wished he would stop and look at her for a moment, notice that she was a little pale. "You okay, Jen?" he would ask, different than before, with genuine concern now, walking to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. He would put her to bed, take care of her, it would be like the last time she'd been sick.
Back in January, she had laryngitis. She couldn't even call her professor to ask him to take over her classes. Jack had put her to bed and insisted he'd take care of everything. And he had. She'd forgotten how bad she was feeling because Jack kept her entertained. Although it wasn't until she came back to school the next week that she found out he'd covered her classes himself. The class, made up mostly of freshman girls, had questioned her incessantly about her cute "boyfriend."
All this he was leaving behind. All these memories. To Jen it felt like a betrayal. She knew that wasn't his intention, but she couldn't keep herself from feeling that way.
Jen munched on a bagel, trying to focus her concentration on something besides Jack. She heard the door open and saw Scott enter, saw Jack light up, saw that there were only a few precious seconds left with her Jack. She hurriedly put the bagel down and went to him, pulling him away from Scott for a moment.
"Hey, take care," she said, pulling him into a hug. He hugged her back, fiercely and tightly as he always did. She felt tears trying to come again.
"You, too," he said. "I put that ad in the paper for you, about the room. At least now you'll make a little extra cash each month."
Jen nodded. They separated and Jack turned his head towards Scott. Jen felt as though she had to say something right now, or the moment would be over. "I'll miss you, Jack," she said quickly, burying her face in his chest.
She couldn't see his face, but she knew exactly what was on it, that look of humble contentment. "I'll miss you, too," he said, running his hand up and down her back.
"You'd better call," she said.
"I will."
It seemed to Jen that he pulled away a little too quickly, that he wasn't as genuine and sweet as he normally was. He seemed distracted, not all there. Probably because of Scott.
Just a second later, it seemed, he was gone. And it wasn't until that moment that she let herself cry.