Jack paused outside the open bathroom door and looked down into her eyes. For the first time, she saw light in them, warmth.
Him.
Her vision of him blurred with tears. The syringe shook in her hand.
His body trembled too as she slowly raised the syringe toward him. He looked away when it came closer. His face strained. The shaking grew worse and he cursed softly.
After a few moments, he breathed out full and slow. He relaxed and looked directly into her eyes again. "I'm sorry." His voice was gentle; his eyes soft, shining. "I'm sorry for everything... for what I've put you through."
He reached forward slowly, carefully, and wrapped his large, cool hand around her quaking hand βaround the antidote. "I love you, Kim. I don't deserve you, but I always want to be with you." He guided the needle toward his chest. He pushed it all the way in. His thumb on hers helped her push the plunger. "If you'll still be with me."
"God, yes."
When she pulled the syringe away, the green liquid that had filled it was gone.
She looked up at Jack expectantly, but something was wrong.
He fell back against the wall. His eyes rolled back in his head. His body convulsed.
"Jack!" she said, rushing forward.
Ron made it there before her, appearing out of the bathroom. He blocked her way and caught Jack in his arms. "Stay back," he said, "or you'll get hurt. Or worse."
Jack thrashed around. His hand flew out and ripped the bathroom door off its hinges. The door crashed into the open closet area.
She fell back toward the dresser. Heart pounding, all she could do was watch helplessly as Jack βwhites of his eyes turned up, shook and flailed in Ron's grasp.
Ron's huge arm muscles corded and his face tightened with his struggle to keep Jack's movements under control.
She was aware of Benson at her side, holding her arm. Chamey placed a hand on Benson's shoulder and one on hers. She barely felt anything.
Time moved impossibly slow. All she wanted was to go to her husband, but his convulsions rolled on and on.
Finally he went still.
Ron slowly lowered him to the floor. That's when Kim saw the open syringe in Ron's hand. It was full of green liquid.
He smiled at her over Jack's body and held up the syringe. "Guess I didn't need mine after all."
A shot of cold rolled through her. She fell on her hands and knees beside Jack and placed a hand on his chest.
He still hadn't moved a muscle. His body was limp, eyes closed, mouth slack. A small trickle of blood rolled from one corner.
"Oh my god," Benson said, falling to the floor next to her. "What's wrong with him? It never did that to him last time."
"Jack," Kim said, shaking him, willing him to open his eyes, to be okay.
He didn't move.