The Ghost In The Ring

Chapter 24: 

The locker room was quiet, the sound of the crowd still a faint buzz somewhere in the distance. Jack sat there, on a bench, his whole body aching, sore from the fight. But for the first time in... forever, his mind was still. He looked down at his hands, still wrapped, knuckles swollen and bruised. They were a reminder of the fight, the battle he just went through. Yet, despite all the pain, something felt different inside—lighter.

He had won. But not the way the crowd wanted, not the way he thought he would. He'd beat Rico, sure, but not like he had imagined all those nights when he'd been consumed by anger, dreaming of the moment he'd crush the man who took Ethan from him. When it came down to it, when he had the chance to finish it, Jack chose not to throw that last punch. He chose peace over vengeance.

Lena walked in, quiet as ever, her face calm but proud. She didn't say anything at first, but Jack could tell from the look in her eyes she understood. She had seen it when he lowered his fist. He had made the choice she'd always hoped he would. It wasn't about winning the fight, it was about the journey, about growing, and about finding peace within himself.

"You did good," Lena finally said, sitting down next to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm, like she was grounding him in that moment.

Jack nodded, still trying to wrap his head around it all. "Didn't feel like it at first," he admitted. "Crowd—they didn't get it. They wanted blood."

"They always want blood," Lena said softly. "But that's not why you did this, is it? You didn't fight for them."

Jack shook his head. She was right. He didn't fight for the crowd, for fame, or even for revenge anymore. He fought for something deeper—something he hadn't fully understood until those last moments in the cage. "I thought... beating Rico would fix everything. Thought it'd give me peace, but..."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"But it wasn't about him," Jack said, realization hitting him harder than any punch. "It was never about Rico. It was about me."

Lena gave him a soft smile, the kind that said she'd known that all along. "You've come a long way, Jack. I'm proud of you."

Jack felt a weight lift from his chest, the burden of revenge that had been weighing him down finally starting to let go. He stood up, wincing a little from the pain in his ribs, and started unwrapping his hands. "I... I need to go somewhere," he said after a minute.

Lena didn't ask where. She just nodded, letting him go, knowing this part of the journey was something he had to do alone.

The cemetery was quiet, the sun hanging low, casting long shadows across the rows of gravestones. Jack walked slow, his feet crunching on the gravel path as he made his way to Ethan's grave. His heart felt heavy, but not like it used to. It wasn't that crushing grief that'd nearly drowned him for so long. It was... different now. Sad, but... bearable.

When he got to Ethan's grave, Jack stopped, just staring down at the headstone. Ethan's name, the dates of his too-short life. Jack hadn't come here in months, couldn't bring himself to face it. Every time before, he'd just been angry—at himself, at Rico, at everything. But now, standing here, Jack felt something new: peace.

He stood there a long time, just letting the memories come. The good times, the laughs, the way they'd trained together. And yeah, the grief came too, but it wasn't the sharp, tearing pain it used to be. It was softer, more like a dull ache.

"I fought him, Ethan," Jack said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Fought Rico. Had him—right there in the cage. Could've ended it, made him pay for what he did to you."

Jack knelt down, resting a hand on the cold stone. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. "But... I didn't do it for you. I didn't do it for revenge. I realized that's not what you would've wanted."

A sad smile touched his lips as he stared down at the grass. "You always fought with honor. You loved the sport. Not the violence. I thought beating him would be justice, but it wouldn't have brought you back. It wouldn't have given me peace."

Tears welled up in his eyes, but this time he didn't hold them back. For the first time since Ethan's death, Jack let himself feel everything—grief, sadness, even love. He let it all wash over him, knowing this was what healing looked like.

"I miss you, man," Jack said, his voice cracking. "I miss you every day."

The wind rustled through the trees, a soft sound that somehow felt like comfort. Jack took another deep breath, feeling something settle in his chest. A sense of closure.

"I don't know where this is all gonna take me," Jack went on, his voice more steady now. "But I ain't gonna let the anger control me anymore. I'm not gonna live in the past. I'll keep fightin', but not for revenge. I'll fight for peace."

He stood up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. The sadness was still there—it always would be. Losing Ethan left a hole that would never really close. But Jack knew now, that didn't have to define him. Ethan's death shaped him, yeah, but it didn't have to control him.

Jack turned to leave, glancing back at the grave one last time. This wasn't goodbye, not really. Ethan would always be with him, a part of him. But now, Jack was ready to move forward, to leave the past behind and face whatever the future had in store.

He walked away from the cemetery, his steps lighter than they'd been in a long time.

For the first time in years, Jack felt a real sense of peace.