Jack's heart pounded in her chest as she contemplated the words she'd overheard. Oliver wanted Donovan hung for his crimes, and Jack knew just how relentless the man could be when he had his eye on a goal. If no one told Titus the real story, he would have no choice but to convict Donovan for the murder of the eldest Slate brother and hang him for his crime. Jack knew Donovan was just trying to keep her safe, but he now had only two options: fight or flight. He needed to decide immediately, for Sheriff Fletcher would not hesitate to pursue justice.

Her hands still shaking, Jack emerged from the alleyway and looked left and right. She was the only one outside and she wrapped her arms around herself at a gust of wind that hit her as she exited the shelter of the alley. Jack needed to find Donovan and tell him what she'd overheard. The time for passivity was over; they had to take action.

Jack slipped inside the front door and hoped that no one would notice her return. The music had reached a feverish pitch and almost the entire church, barring a few people conversing along the edges and the handful of injured soldiers from Dr. Benjamin's, was engulfed in Ragtime dancing. Only a few weeks ago, Jack would have enjoyed the festivities, but now it seemed brazen and shameless. Max Slate spun Margaret in a circle and the joy on the girl's face nearly made Jack sick. Her warning had fallen on deaf ears. Remaining still, Jack scanned the rest of the room, searching for Donovan, but her eyes settled on Titus Fletcher instead. He was watching her with marked concern and when she caught his gaze, he lifted his eyebrows in question. Titus knew she'd overheard the conversation. Jack just nodded and chewed on her lip until it brought blood. She needed to find Donovan.

A hand touched the small of her back, and Jack flinched away, her hand balling into a fist.

"Jack, it's just me," Donovan murmured in her ear and the nervous energy building in Jack dissipated.

She seized his arm and pulled him closer to her so she could whisper in his ear. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you!"

"So have I," Donovan answered, his eyes resting on Max Slate.

"Can we talk?"

Donovan nodded and they slipped out the front door of the church. Jack gestured to the alley and they stood on opposite sides between the brick buildings. Jack leaned against the wall, the cool brick soothing her heated spirit, and closed her eyes for a long moment.

"Jack? What's wrong?"

"They're coming for you."

A beat passed and Jack watched as Donovan's dark eyes studied her. "What did you hear?"

"The mayor knows, and I overheard him talking to Sheriff Fletcher. The Slates have levelled charges against you. Murder in the first degree."

Donovan raked a hand through his hair and protested, "But I didn't--"

"Well, he doesn't know that, does he?" Jack snapped. "Oliver wants you hung for your crimes, and even Titus wondered if he and the Slates were in cahoots."

The words stunned Donovan into silence and he ran his hands over his face. For the second time, the Slate brothers were using the law to threaten his life despite their repeated atrocities.

"They're paying him off."

"What?"

"The Slates." Donovan sighed and leaned against the bricks, the moonlit shadows highlighting his sharp jaw. "They're paying Donovan off to get rid of me. Then there's no blood on their hands and everything is cleaned up, nice and tidy. With me gone, they can take Soka's land and they'll have everything they want."

"But you're not going to let them get away with that." Jack stepped before them, staring at Donovan's averted eyes.

"Jack, I already told you-"

"Just stop!" Jack cried. "Everything's changed now, don't you see? The Slates have thrown down the gauntlet. They think they can convince this town to do away with you without a fight, but we have to prove them wrong."

"How are we supposed to do that?" Donovan yelled, pushing off the wall and leering closer to her, his eyes a rolling thunderstorm. "What evidence do we have except our own testimony? And who's going to believe us, an Indian man, a single white woman, and a black couple? Our words mean nothing to them, not compared to the witness of two rich white men. Don't you see, Jack? It doesn't matter if we fight back. We won't win."

Jack rested her hands on her hips and glared back at him. She wasn't going to back down and she refused to lose him because of such open immorality.

"What kind of attitude is that, Kitchi? You're just going to give up and let them win? I thought you were a lawyer, someone who fought for people. If I were in your shoes, you wouldn't stop until I was vindicated. You owe yourself the same privilege."

Donovan's face seemed to age before Jack's eyes. "What can I do, Jack?"

Jack sighed. "Well, the way I see it, you have two choices. You can run away like you did before, leave me and this whole town behind you, and hope that you somehow evade them until they go back and kill Soka anyways. Or you can stay and tell Titus the truth. He'll listen to us and he'll judge rightly."

"What about you?" Donovan asked in a raspy voice, taking Jack's hand and turning it over in his.

"I'll testify right alongside you. I've seen my own fair share of their misdeeds, and though the town might think I'm crazy, they know I'm no liar. The Bookers will back us up, and I know Sheriff Fletcher will give you a fair trial."

As she said the words, however, Jack's heart quailed a little. She had no doubt that Titus would be judicious, but would Oliver simply overpower him and deal out his own version of justice as he liked?

"And if you get hurt?" Donovan asked, running the back of his knuckles across Jack's cheek. The touch spent spasms of longing through Jack, but she forced herself to stand up straight.

"I understand now, what you meant when you said you couldn't live with yourself if something happened to me," Jack murmured as Donovan lifted her chin to look at him. "You want to protect me; you're being selfless because you...you..."

"Because I love you, Jack," he whispered, a smile playing at his features. "I don't think that's a secret any more."

Jack's face flushed crimson. Though she'd imagined hearing the words aloud a thousand times in her head, they struck her with an undeniable force. He loved her, and she knew she loved him. That's why they were hurting each other with their own selfless love. The realization brought hope and relief rather than fear; her only fear now was that Donovan would still leave because he loved her. Living without him would be worse than dying in an effort to save him.

"But I love you too," Jack said with a shrug. "That's why I refuse to let you give up. Don't go, Kitchi," she plead with him.

Donovan sighed and Jack felt the hot air on her face as she leaned into him until their bodies became one. Her head rested on his chest and she listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. The two choices still laid before him, and for a fleeting moment, Jack wondered if this would be their final embrace before he ran off and left Irvington--and her--for good.
"No," she murmured, prying herself from his arms and pushing away from his chest. "No," she repeated. "You can't leave. Promise me, Donovan. Promise me you'll try to acquit yourself. That you'll talk to Sheriff Fletcher."

Donovan drew his eyebrows together and studied her for a long moment. Jack knew the weight of what she was asking him. She wanted him to risk her life as well as his own for a long shot at justice.

"If you leave," Jack continued in a strangled voice. "I'll never see you again. This is about more than just...than just justice. It's about me and you. If you leave, I'll never see you again, and that's worse to me than anything the Slates can do to me. They can break my body, but you can break my heart."

Jack's raw vulnerability lingered in the darkness between them as a line in the sand seemed to appear. With those words, her heart ached in her chest. When she thought of the future, she could only see the things she wanted to do and the places she wanted to go with Donovan. They were no longer young and the years would wane if they did not take advantage of their time together. She thought of returning to her complacent life at the factory and it tasted stale and tedious. No, she wanted a future with Donovan and she would fight tooth and nail to get it.

"Is that what you want?" Jack asked, looking to Donovan for an answer to her confession.

"Are you joking? I...I want to marry you, Jack. And travel and see the world and grow and learn and laugh with you. But..."

"No, no but's," Jack cried. "There are a thousand things that could get in our way, a thousand things that could stand between us, but I sure don't plan on letting anything get in my way."

Donovan's smile broadened and he touched Jack's face again with an intimacy, a tenderness that Jack had never felt before. "Sometimes I wish you were just a bit less tenacious, a bit less brave, Jack, but then you wouldn't be the woman I love."

Jack blushed under the praise and stepped into his touch, leaning close to him. She studied his face--the slanted eyebrows and limitless eyes, the sharp jaw and high cheekbones and long smooth hair. He was handsome, but for all the reasons she loved this man, there was something beyond the tangible. There was something in his soul that had attracted Jack. He was a vagrant, a nomad, a traveller, and Jack liked all of that, but it was something more.

"You're an idealist, Donovan," Jack murmured, resting her hand on his chest over his heart.. "I knew that as soon as I met you." Jack thought back to their encounter when Jack was in the tree facing a chicken, and she screwed her face up. "Well, maybe not right away, but pretty soon." Donovan laughed and Jack continued on. "Donovan, you see what the world could be, not what it is now. Don't let the Slates take that from you."

Donovan sighed, the hot breath tickling Jack's ear as he pulled her to his chest in a gentle embrace. "Fine."

"Fine?" Jack exclaimed, extricating herself and beaming up at him. "You mean we can tell Titus?"

He grinned down at her though his eyes expressed an underlying sorrow. "We'll tell him."

"Oh, Donovan!" Jack cried and propelled herself into his arms. "I knew you would," she murmured as she kissed him.

Jack had never told a man she loved him before, but with Donovan, the words had rolled off her tongue as if they couldn't be contained. Whatever awaited them, Jack had the certainty of the man she loved beside her and their own stubbornness to act as the bulwark against the Slates' power and violence.

After a long moment spent kissing, Donovan murmured into Jack's ear, "We should go back to the party."

"Must we?" Jack groaned, resting her forehead in the crook of his neck. "I'm afraid so."

They left the alleyway hand in hand and turned to enter the church when they were intercepted by none other than the sheriff himself. Titus's gray eyes were flinty as he halted them with one hand, glancing around him nervously.

"Tomorrow," Titus said, his eyes jumping between them. "I have to interrogate both of you, and I need to know what's going on. I need you to tell me everything."

Jack looked up to Donovan and he grimly nodded. "I will."