Okay, so… I missed Memorial day by a few days. But still felt like this was okay to post.
"Come on Ri, it's not that high…" Jack coaxed as he tried to get Riley to jump down a small ledge. "Time is of the essence, if I have to remind you…"
"Would you just shut up, please!" Riley barked back as she stood on the edge, completely rigid.
"I didn't know you were scared of heights…"
"Neither did I two minutes ago!"
"Okay, but we've GOT TO GO!"
"I- I can't…" Riley stuttered, clenching her hands into fists.
"Okay, if I go first and catch you… Would that work?"
Riley shrugged, then nodded.
"Okay, good. When I get down there, sit down on the edge and just slide down into my hands. How does that plan sound to you?"
"Great."
Jack smiled and nudged Riley's shoulder, then he stepped back to give himself some momentum and let the tuck-and-roll motion go smoother.
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It felt like someone took Louisville slugger to a spot three inches above his left ankle, on second thought, it felt like Babe Ruth himself had stood up from the dead, re-visited his glory days and batted one of his best ever power hits.
The planned tuck and roll ended up with him curled up on his side, clutching his left ankle. Every cussword known to man rolled off his tongue, and a few improvised ones too for good measure.
30 seconds later he managed to breathe through the worst brunt of the pain. He wasn't able to uncurl from the way he was wrapped in on himself.
"Don't think that you can fool me into jumping down there. That's not how it works!"
"I'm not trying to fool you!" Jack actually managed to speak out in a full sentence. "Think I broke my leg…"
"You're kidding right?" Riley hoped.
The painful moan Jack couldn't hold back answered her question for him.
"How bad is it?" Riley asked from her placement up on the ledge. It wasn't all that high. If Jack had been able to stand up and reach for the plateau he had just jumped from his hands would just fall a foot short of the top.
Jack cussed another string, hard enough words to make Riley reconsider her question all together.
"Stupid question, don't need to answer." Riley sighed, "There is no other way down from here, damn it."
After finally concluding what they both already knew, Riley rolled over to her stomach and edged over the edge. She managed to lower herself until she was dangling from her hands, but her feet were still about a yard off the ground. She let go with her left hand and turned around as much as anatomy would let her. Then she dropped and landed rock steady.
He didn't flinch when when Riley placed her hand on his shoulder. But her words sent a slight shiver through his soul.
"Jack, I have to take a look at your leg. Do you want me to cut up the lacing or to untie it?"
"Cut it." Easy decision. He had been through this once or twice before. He had probably broken a leg (or both) about 20-25 times all in all. Counting everything from childhood clumsiness, teenage idiocy to missions going less than stellar. "Hey, Ri…"
"Yeah...?"
"When we get home from this…" Jack started, but had to pause to fight a grimace that fluttered across his face, "When we get home, let's try to get Matty to agree never to use the phrase 'easy mission' ever again… Huh?"
Riley paused from slitting open the boot, smiling despite the situation.
"Yeah, let's ban that phrase from Phoenix lingo…" Riley agreed, "Except from when we're talking about missions we've already been through. History you know."
"Yeah, let the missions become easy once they're done and over with…." Jack grimaced.
"Ow, that's definitely broken." Riley hissed in sympathy.
"Told you so!" Jack gritted out, "It isn't open, is it?"
"No. Thankfully not." Riley informed. "But I think the bone splintered a bit. I think one or two of those pieces are pressing against the skin. And your foot is poking outward…"
"Good thing the crew followed Mac, huh?"
Riley nodded, "I need to splint this in some way. We're still too far away from the car for you to skip all the way on one leg."
Jack nodded in agreement as he propped himself up on his elbows.
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"How does that feel?"
"Hurts just as much as you would expect…" Jack answered, scrounging up his nose.
"Well, since we're in a part of the world where the vegetation is either knee height, or don't offer any support at all… You're going to have to rely on me as a crutch."
Jack nodded.
"Ready to get going?" she asked, "We're losing daylight…"
It wasn't without struggle that Riley helped Jack up. But Riley managed to half-lift Jack who was much taller and heavier than her.
It didn't take more than a hundred yards before they figured out that their current way of handling things wasn't working out.
"Okay, stand there for a second…" Riley instructed, stopping Jack.
"Why?"
"Just do it." Riley said with a hand pressed against Jack's chest to steady him. Then when she knew he had his footing, she turned her back to him, squaring off her frame and spreading her arms slightly. "Jump on…"
"I'll crush you!"
"I have been a part of this team for a couple of years now. What do you think I do when I am in the gym?"
"Work out…?"
"Yup, and I squat more than you weigh…" Riley deadpanned. "Hop on."
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"Well, that's a sight I never expected to see…" Mac chuckled as Riley and Jack rounded a boulder and came into view. Then he turned a little more serious before he asked, "Has something happened?"
"Broke my leg…" Jack hissed, "A mile or so back."
"is it bad?"
"I don't know, but crutches will be mandatory for the next couple of weeks." Jack reasoned.
Mac nodded and gave the splint a once over once, "Good job on the splint Riley. Does it feel like your leg is held in place Jack?"
"Feels like it does its job nicely." Jack nodded. "But I'm ready to get looked at by a doctor right about now. Maybe get shot up with some feel-good-juice."
"We've got a half a mile left to the extraction point." Riley informed as she wiped off her brow. "Let's get going…"
Just as Riley was about to get ready to have Jack ride piggy-back again, Mac spoke up. "I'll take care of Jack. You've done more than your part already."
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A couple of weeks later.
Jack felt a bit strange as he dressed up in his nicest uniform, with all of his military medals decorating his chest. His left leg was still in a cast from his knee down. And he still needed the crutches, he wasn't allowed to bear weight on the leg yet. It had been a complicated fracture, and had required a plate and a bunch of screws.
He shuffled backward to be able to look at himself in the mirror. Full-figure. Uniform and crutches. His eyes were drawn to the fiberglass covered leg. Could he wear this today? Could he? Would it steal away from the focus of the day? This day was for guys like Tommy and Mike and girls like Evy. Those who hadn't come back.
After more than 10 minutes in front of the mirror he decided that he had to wear the uniform wither way. He was the one elected to hold a speech, he couldn't do that in jeans and a dirty t-shirt. He would have to wear his uniform.
There was a knock on the door, Jack knew who it was without any other hints. He hobbled over to the motel door, and unlocked it. Mac stood there dressed sharply in a matching uniform, just a couple of ranks beneath Jack's.
"Ready to go?" he asked, holding up the keys to the rental they had while they were in Texas.
"I look like a fraud…"
"Why would you say that?" Mac furrowed his brows, tilting his head.
"It's memorial day, I'm elected to speak on their behalf, and I hobble around on crutches. I didn't even get hurt as a soldier!"
"Jack…"
"I- I… I…"
"Jack, you are a soldier. One who have done far more for this country and this world than most of us. Stuff that would make you a legend if it wasn't classified. You might not dress up in your khakis for missions anymore, but you're still a soldier. Just a different and more skilled branch. We can call you a Phoenix-soldier. You did get injured as a soldier…"
Jack said nothing.
"Come on, let's go…" Mac smiled, "Need me to carry anything?"
"Okay, no… I've got everything on me…"
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Michelle watched as a handsome soldier with a chest full of medals hobbled up the stairs.
The man paused at top of the stage, before he crutched over to the chairs set out there. He moved slowly and kept his eyes to the ground, like he was reading something. He stopped at the fourth chair, placed his crutches in his left hand and lowered himself onto the seat.
Michelle instantly felt curious about the soldier's history. Who was he? What had he done? What had happened to his leg?
She saw him carefully place his foot on the floor, and wondered if the man should have a second chair to elevate his injured leg on.
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His heart was pounding in his chest, and his leg was throbbing steadily inside the cast. His mouth ran dry and his hands went clammy. It was like some kind of stage-fright served up with a side order of aching left leg.
He carefully slid the cast along the stage floor, until he had his foot parallel with the floor. The throbbing didn't ease up, if anything it just kicked it up a notch. He hooked his right leg behind the cast and eased his injured leg forward. He let out an involuntary hiss as the three week old injury buzzed with pain.
I can take three hours of this. Three hours is nothing. At least nothing compared to being tortured by terrorists in the middle east, or landing a plane with no wings and no engines.
He hadn't even noticed that the man assigned to the seat beside him had parked his ass on the chair. Not before he spoke.
"Leg bothering ya?" the question came in a thick Texan accent, and the man's voice was about as deep as the deepest oceans.
Jack flashed a short apologetic smile.
"A little…" he admitted as he blushed, "Sorry, I didn't mean to be a wimp about it…"
"Don't you worry son. There is no shame in complaining about anything that deserves a cast. It hurts, those of us who have been through it knows that. Was it a bad fracture?"
"Well, I've got a six inch metal plate in my leg, and more screws than I've got fingers on my hands…"
"Sounds awful…" the other man grimaced, "When did this happen?"
"About three weeks ago. I've got at least two more weeks with this itchy cast."
"They weren't able to immobilize the leg well enough with the hardware?"
Jack grinned shortly, "They decided, given my history, that it would be best to go all belt and suspenders on this…"
"Okay?"
"Let's just say that there have been a few instances where doctors had to break up poorly healed injuries. Better safe than sorry I guess…"
The other man didn't say anything for a few seconds, he just looked at Jack's cast.
"Should I find something for you to prop your leg up on? It must be better to have it elevated…"
"Thank you, but it really isn't necessary." Jack smirked, in reality he could really use an upside down bucket or a chair to rest his leg on.
"You sure?" We're going to be here for a while you know…."
Jack nodded, "Three hours, I know…"
"Just give me a hint if you need anything."
"Thanks, but all I really need is for those two painkillers I took 5-10 minutes ago to kick in."
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By the time he was supposed to speak on behalf of his fallen brothers and sisters, his leg had stopped hurting immensely.
He hobbled over to the microphones, clearing his throat on his way over.
He stopped in front of the mics and propped his crutches against the pulpit. Then he gripped the surface to steady himself.
"Hello. My name is Jack Dalton. I… Errr… I… I used to be a Colonel with the US Army, and I'm not very good with speeches, I hope you can forgive me for that later. There's this country song where one of the lines say 'All gave some, some gave all'. I only gave some, but I served alongside guys and gals who gave all and never came back from war. I've seen the horrors of war up close and personal. I enlisted as soon as I could, straight out of high school in '85. And I've seen most of the action you've seen on the television from the front line. Let me tell you a little story of the first time I really felt war on my own body, it was in Desert Storm. It was February 4th, the day after my 24th birthday. I had seen war a couple of times by then, but what happened then was a new experience for me."
Jack squeezed his eyes shut, fighting memories that suddenly rushed to the surface.
"February 4th, 1991. My squad and I were driving south, towards our home base over there. The sky was as burning bright, just as blue as the Texas sky on a perfect spring day. I remember Tommy Evans, some of you might have known him, he was a Dallas boy. Always had an optimistic grin and dimples that would make him seem at least five years younger than he really was. Good guy, good kid, good hero. We were having this stupid friendly argument about what movie was the best."
Jack had to wipe away a few tears with his right hand.
"I survived the roadside bomb, three of my team mates weren't as lucky. Tommy was one of them."
Jack cleared his voice, hoping that it would hold up until he was done speaking.
"America, some gave all…Today we honor them."
Jack didn't spend more time up at the pulpit than necessary. He gathered his crutches and hobbled back to his chair.
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The rest of the three hours went by painstakingly slow. And his emotions threatened to get the best of him all of the time. The absolute worst was when Ella's husband took the floor and told the story of how his wife had been shot in the chest on her 3rd tour overseas. He had met Ella, one brief time. She was a badass woman, the kind you either love or fear. What hurt his soul the most was the three year old who sat on the man's arm, hiding her face in the nook of her father's neck, and that that little angel never would see her beautiful and strong mother ever again.
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"Sit down, sit down…." Mac ushered as he provided a chair for Jack as he hopped down backstage. "How are you holding up?"
"Leg's fine… Just throbs a little."
"I'm not talking 'bout your leg, old man… I'm talking about the top floor, where's your head at?"
Jack looked down at the ground, then up at Mac again.
"It's been a day…" he spoke barely above a whisper.
Mac could feel his heart sinking, 'it's been a day' spoke volumes to him about what demons were roaring inside Jack's mind. It had been their code ever since the fourth time they worked together, way back in the sandbox. Also known as the first time Mac had seen Jack have an episode, reliving one of the major craptastic events war had provided him.
"I know…"
Jack sniffled and closed his eyes, nodding.
"How about we go back to the motel, and put on some Jim Carrey movie or something?"
"I'd rather go empty a dive bar for all of its liquor…" Jack muttered silently.
"We both know alcohol and this mindset…"
"-shouldn't be mixed, I know…" Jack ran a hand down his face, "But Lord, I need a drink…"
"Water. You need a drink of water…" Mac countered, "I've got the car waiting out back, let's go. Let's get that leg of yours up, it must be pounding like crazy…"
"Yeah, kinda…" Jack admitted taking a new hold of his crutches. "Mac…"
"Yup…"
"Could you… Could you like…"
"-Stay in your room tonight?"
Jack nodded.
"Sure…" Mac answered with a careful hand on Jack's shoulder. "I'll take the couch."
"Thanks man…"
Just so you know it, I'm craving Jack whump like crazy.
Also, had to exercise my writing muscles. Hope you didn't get too bored.
