Echoes of the Past

Echoes of the Past Ch. 3

Two weeks later

Jack was woken up by Bobby banging on his door. He groaned and pulled the sheets over him.

"Bobby, go away, it's six in the morning," Jack whined. "I'm trying to catch up on sleep." Jack had cried and thrown fits in privacy when his father wasn't around because of Jackie and his unborn children.

"Jack! She answered!"

Jack sat up, banging his still aching head on the table. "What? Who? What? Where? When? Why?"

"Jackie," Bobby prompted.

A swell of excitement pounded in Jack's heart. He ran over and opened the door. He dragged Bobby inside bad locked the door.

Bobby handed him the letter and Jack ripped it open. Jack's eyes scanned the paper.

Jack's heart was crushed by Jackie's reply. Well of course she wouldn't believe him.

A minute later, he was storming out the door wearing a raincoat with some luggage, heading toward New York.

The ride there was tiring. Jack passed out at least once or twice. Jack knew he would get yelled at by doing this.

He had already tried some brash things when he'd realized he was back in the past. For instance, he would make himself volunteer got the mission that would send Germany into turmoil. He'd even tried to get a client to kill Hitler. Bobby had yelled at him and not even let him end that story.

In time, Bobby and Jack's bond grew stronger. Bobby comforted Jack about Patrick's death. Jack was guilty still. He knew he could nothing about Patrick to prevent his death. Patrick was born to die. And Jack's death was stoppable, if he just planned it carefully of how not to go to Dallas.

But I need to go there, Jack thinks fiercely. It's the only way to win against Goldwater.

Another part of his mind chimed in, If you do this, you'll break John's promise of coming back for his birthday.

Jack's eyes watered with tears. John...

Before he knew it, he was crying again.

The driver handed him some tissues and Jack blew his nose, splattering the tissue with his nose goo.

"I'm fine. I'll be fine." Jack said wiping his eyes.

He thought of Clint Hill, the agent that was sworn to protect him. Jack was bitter as he thought of Clint.

He swore to protect me but yet he failed, Jack was growing angry thinking of the agent. How is that supposed to work out?

Thinking of Clint, however, led to images of Jackie, John, and mostly his two dead children, Patrick and Arabelle.

Jack was glad when the driver stopped at his designated place six hours later. Jack grabbed his stuff and went into the hotel room he had rented.

Today would be recalling his past. Tomorrow would be meeting Jackie.