Chapter Text
Jack blinked, taking in the scene around him. There wasn't much to see. He was surrounded by white mist in all directions, although his sense of direction was warped, so perhaps he hadn't turned at all.
Jack couldn't feel his body, or his face – it was as if he was simply existing, just a soul without any physical form.
Suddenly, Jack felt a strong tug on his right side, and he was suddenly extremely dizzy.
Jack closed his eyes to try to stop the dizziness, and it seemed to work – but when he opened his eyes, he was somewhere completely different – somewhere he recognized.
—
Jack figured out pretty quickly that he was dead.
The sign probably helped.
Remembering Jack Kelly, it read, accompanied by a photo of him smiling. He didn't have many solo pictures, but he liked this one. It was a photo of him from his most recent art show. He was standing next to his painting, the one of Santa Fe from his memory, and he was looking at Katherine off-camera and smiling.
Jack felt something in his stomach drop. Kitty.
He turned, but it almost felt in slow motion. It wasn't as though he was walking – he was simply gliding his way across the cemetery. Startled, he looked down at his feet, and froze suddenly.
Oh, god.
He was wearing the same thing he'd been wearing when – when…
Memories came rushing back. A cloudy day. A walk to the craft store for more paint. A crowded New York street. Wilbur Soot playing through his headphones.
And then impact.
The gray jeans and black graphic tee he had on now were the same as he'd been wearing when he…
when he died.
Jack stared around the garden, recognizing his friends and family, all in black.
Why am I here?
As if to answer Jack's question, he felt another tug. Another shock of dizziness, shorter this time, and then he was standing – no, floating – at the end of a path, just yards away from where he'd been a moment ago.
What Jack saw almost made him wish he was still in the dizzy state.
Because when he looked down, he saw his own body, lying in an open casket.
Makeup had been applied to his face, heavily coated, Jack knew, to cover up the injuries he'd undoubtedly had. But it had been done very well, and he still looked like the same Jack, for the most part. His eyes were lightly closed.
His outfit was what got to him.
Under a light white sheet, Jack could make out a denim jacket, black pants, and a white band shirt.
The same outfit he'd been wearing when he proposed to Katherine.
Jack's eyes immediately snapped to his body's left hand.
He was still wearing his engagement ring. Jack didn't need to check to know that it was on his ghostlike body also.
Before he knew what was happening, he was plunged into a flashback.
—
"I want you to have one too," Katherine insisted as she dragged him into a jewelry store. "That way everyone knows you're taken."
"But how will they know you're taken when you're wearing yours on your right hand?" Jack asked, gesturing to the heart-shaped diamond on her right ring finger. He was joking. He didn't really care.
"I told you, I don't want to wear it on my left hand until we're married. Besides, this way, when I hold your hand, the rings will be together."
She leaned up on her tiptoes, kissing him on the lips. He wrapped his arms around her.
"God, I can't wait to marry you," he mumbled, kissing the top of her head.
—
Jack blinked, pulling himself out of the flashback. As he stared down at his dead body, he heard footsteps, coming closer and closer to the casket.
He looked up and saw his mother first. Medda was dressed in a black dress and black coat, along with short black heels, and as she slowly made her way down the gravel path, she was holding tightly to the arm of Jack's fianceé.
"Kitty," Jack murmured, as the pair approached the casket. She was crying, tears glistening on her cheeks, and her hair was pulled back. Jack could see the earrings he had given her for her birthday the first year they had been dating. As the gravel crunched under Katherine's black flats, it seemed that she was holding onto Medda for support just as much as Medda was holding her.
"My boy," Medda said softly as they reached the casket. Her eyes were glistening with tears. "So young…" She started to sniffle, and quickly and quietly buried her face in Katherine's shoulder.
"Hey," Katherine said softly, seemingly having composed herself. "You're making a speech later, remember? You can't let your makeup run." She took a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at Medda's face with it.
The two women stood together for a moment.
"Okay," Medda said, having pulled herself together. After that small moment of vulnerability, she was once again the strong woman Jack had known and loved, and he was relieved, because he didn't know if he could cope with seeing his mother truly broken. He'd never seen her like this, ever, and in all honesty, it scared him. "I'm alright now, sweetie. Thank you."
"Okay, that's good," Katherine said, barely above a whisper. "You're fine now?"
"Yes, honey."
"That's good, that's good…" Katherine looked down at the floor, moving some gravel with her shoe, and Jack realized with a jolt that he was, for once, seeing Katherine at a loss for words. After a minute, she looked up. "Miss Medda? I'm really sorry I never got to become your daughter-in-law."
Medda smiled softly, eyes crinkling. She waved a hand airily. "Oh, you never know. You could always marry Race."
Jack actually laughed. Yeah. Medda will be fine.
Katherine didn't quite laugh, but she managed a soft giggle, and Jack smiled, because that giggle was one of his favorite sounds in the world. "I think Albert would come after me with a tattoo gun, but I appreciate the offer."
They smiled at each other, and Medda's face dropped slightly as she took another look at the casket over Katherine's shoulder. "Would you like a moment?"
Katherine's face fell, and she turned so her back was to Medda. "Yeah," she said quietly, "I really, really would. You'll make it back okay?"
"Oh, yes. It's not very far. And Katie?"
"Miss Medda?"
"I am so sorry."
As Medda made her way back down the path, Katherine moved nearer to the casket so the toe of her shoe was almost touching it. "Jack…" she said quietly, tears beginning to fall.
Jack so badly wanted to wrap his arms around her, and tell her that everything was going to be okay, but when he tried, she shivered as though she'd been doused in ice. She wrapped her sweater tighter around her shoulders. Jack could only watch, crestfallen.
"My dreamer," Kath said softly. Jack wished, so badly, that he could reply. "If you were here, you'd…" she brought a hand up to wipe her tears and took a shaky breath. "If you were here, you'd make a joke, to try to cheer me up. You'd say, 'It's okay. At least your father won't be able to disapprove of me anymore.'" She laughed, but it didn't reach her eyes, and Jack could tell her heart wasn't in it. Her face was wet with tears, but she looked as beautiful as ever to Jack. "We'd go home, and cuddle on the couch under the weighted blanket I gave you for Christmas, and we'd watch a happy movie. Something stupid like Tangled, even though you always said that Flynn Rider wasn't as cool as you." The tears were coming fast now. "You'd make tea, even though-" she choked back a sob, "even though you were never very good at it, and you would tell me to find love again. That everything would be okay. But everything's not okay, Jack, because you're gone." As Katherine dropped to her knees, her head in her hands, Jack felt powerless. He had to do something, anything, to make her feel better, but there was nothing about it he could do.
Jack turned his back on Katherine, moving away from the casket. He was suddenly struck by the gravity of his situation. He was a ghost – probably not even a ghost, only a spirit. He couldn't talk to anyone. He couldn't touch anyone. He couldn't comfort Katherine when she was stressed. He couldn't whisper a joke to Race to make him crack up during a serious situation. He couldn't visit Charlie at the bakery and get free cookies. He was gone. The world would never again know Jack Kelly. All because of some stupid driver who decided he was too good for stoplights.
All of a sudden, Jack felt angry. Because of that driver, he couldn't have all those experiences again. His art would never go any farther than a couple galleries in Manhattan. Everyone he loved was suffering because of him. And for what?
To keep grounded, Jack played with his ring, transferring it in between his left and right hand. He knew he should probably be more careful with such a valuable item, but at the moment he didn't care. It'd get lost anyway, if he ever made it out of here.
Jack wasn't sure what would happen, when he was supposed to leave, but he'd been told there was some kind of afterlife. So what? I'll go on to heaven and everyone else has to mourn me? That didn't seem fair.
Suddenly, Jack felt something enclose around his left hand. He panicked for a second before realizing he was a spirit, and it was physically impossible for anything to grab his hand. Instead, his eyes drifted to the casket again. He saw Katherine, still sitting on the floor. She'd intertwined their fingers.
"Oh, god," Katherine murmured, unlacing her hand from Jack's in favor of lifting his lightly, "his ring…"
Katherine stared at Jack's engagement ring, which was still on his hand just as it had been that day. She swallowed tightly. "Oh, Jack…"
She stopped suddenly, dropping dead Jack's hand, and as spirit Jack rubbed his wrist he could've sworn he saw that familiar clever glint in her eye.
Hands trembling slightly, Katherine slid her thin engagement ring from her right ring finger, held it between her clasped hands for a moment, then slowly and carefully slid it onto her left ring finger instead.
She stood up, clutching her purse tightly, and blew Jack's body a kiss. She let out a shaky sigh. "There. Now it's– it's almost as if we had a ceremony."
Jack had never wanted to kiss her more than he did at that moment.
"Jack?" Katherine said, looking up towards the cloudy sky. "Wherever you are, I just want to say– I love you. I'll always love you. Thank you for an amazing five years. I only wish that number could be larger."
With that, she turned, and walked back up the path, quiet as a mouse.