Title: Tell Me Who I Am
Rating: PG:13
Disclaimer: Not mine, nah-uh.
-
"Jack!!" Vivian called, watching her boss -her friend- fall to the ground. The suspects fled the scene and she rushed over to where Jack lay. "Jack! Come on, Jack, you can't die on me now.."
His body was motionless and she felt his pulse weakening, she turned, spotting other agents walking into the warehouse. "Quick, get me an ambulance, we've got an agent down."
-Three and a half weeks later -
He blinked twice, clearing his vision. He was on his back, staring up at a white ceiling. He blinked again, same white ceiling.
"Jack?" a voice questioned. The voice of an angel, he was certain. But who was Jack? Whomever it was.. he was a lucky guy, having an angel by his side. "Jack!"
He saw blonde hair leaning into his line of vision, followed quickly by what he could only describe as beauty. The face of an angel.
That could only mean that he was...Jack.
Sleep called and he yawned. His blonde angel took his hand in hers and kissed it softly.
"Sleep, Jack, it's alright. Everything is going to be alright."
How could he not listen to an angel? He did his best to nod, then let his eyes drift shut, the image of his angel floating throughout his mind.
-
Voices. Whispered, hush tones. He opened his eyes again, this time to find that he was sitting up, leaning against pillows. Machines beeped all around him and at the end of his bed stood a tall man in a white overcoat.
He wanted to speak, but his mouth was so dry that he couldn't even get out one word.
An unknown hand brought a cup of water with a stray in it, in front of him, letting him sip from the straw. Much better.
"Mr. Malone--" The man in the over coat started, his voice spoke with age and knowledge in the tone.
"Huh?" he croaked. Where was that hand that held the water? And who exactly was 'Mr. Malone'?
"Mr. Malone, you were shot and have been in a coma for over three weeks..." the voice went on, but he didn't listen.
He had so many questions. He was Mr. Malone? Jack..Malone? Why couldn't he remember any of what the doctor (or so he presumed, unless God had started wearing white overcoats) was saying?
"Where is she?" he managed. Interrupting the doctor, but not caring.
The man across from him frowned in confusion. "Who?"
"My angel."
"Oh, you mean Samantha?" Samantha--such a beautiful name. It had to be her.
"Yeah."
"She went home for the evening, Mr. Malone. Would you like me to have someone call her and ask her to come back?"
He thought about it and shook his head. "Not if she'll be back."
"She will. She's been here every night for the past three weeks." The doctor smiled slightly. "I think you have it right, I think she is your angel."
To Be Continued...
Rating: PG:13
Disclaimer: Not mine, nah-uh.
-
"Jack!!" Vivian called, watching her boss -her friend- fall to the ground. The suspects fled the scene and she rushed over to where Jack lay. "Jack! Come on, Jack, you can't die on me now.."
His body was motionless and she felt his pulse weakening, she turned, spotting other agents walking into the warehouse. "Quick, get me an ambulance, we've got an agent down."
-Three and a half weeks later -
He blinked twice, clearing his vision. He was on his back, staring up at a white ceiling. He blinked again, same white ceiling.
"Jack?" a voice questioned. The voice of an angel, he was certain. But who was Jack? Whomever it was.. he was a lucky guy, having an angel by his side. "Jack!"
He saw blonde hair leaning into his line of vision, followed quickly by what he could only describe as beauty. The face of an angel.
That could only mean that he was...Jack.
Sleep called and he yawned. His blonde angel took his hand in hers and kissed it softly.
"Sleep, Jack, it's alright. Everything is going to be alright."
How could he not listen to an angel? He did his best to nod, then let his eyes drift shut, the image of his angel floating throughout his mind.
-
Voices. Whispered, hush tones. He opened his eyes again, this time to find that he was sitting up, leaning against pillows. Machines beeped all around him and at the end of his bed stood a tall man in a white overcoat.
He wanted to speak, but his mouth was so dry that he couldn't even get out one word.
An unknown hand brought a cup of water with a stray in it, in front of him, letting him sip from the straw. Much better.
"Mr. Malone--" The man in the over coat started, his voice spoke with age and knowledge in the tone.
"Huh?" he croaked. Where was that hand that held the water? And who exactly was 'Mr. Malone'?
"Mr. Malone, you were shot and have been in a coma for over three weeks..." the voice went on, but he didn't listen.
He had so many questions. He was Mr. Malone? Jack..Malone? Why couldn't he remember any of what the doctor (or so he presumed, unless God had started wearing white overcoats) was saying?
"Where is she?" he managed. Interrupting the doctor, but not caring.
The man across from him frowned in confusion. "Who?"
"My angel."
"Oh, you mean Samantha?" Samantha--such a beautiful name. It had to be her.
"Yeah."
"She went home for the evening, Mr. Malone. Would you like me to have someone call her and ask her to come back?"
He thought about it and shook his head. "Not if she'll be back."
"She will. She's been here every night for the past three weeks." The doctor smiled slightly. "I think you have it right, I think she is your angel."
To Be Continued...
