A/N – This is my first fan fiction in God knows how many months, but I'm quite proud to have one of the first Fan Fics set after TLC.
This story WILL contain spoilers for "The Lost Colony," but there are none in the prologue.
Prologue
His eyes, watering with the constant attack from the harsh winds, glanced cautiously over the ledge. It was a long drop. Thirty feet feet of air, before the exploding as his body met concrete part of the equation came into effect. This, he realised, would not be fun. Especially the second part. He was rooted to the spot, his hands gripping the pillars on either side of him, the winds catching his suit jacket and sending it flapping around him.
He'd gone onto the ledge with the intent of actually jumping; his life was a complete waste of time anyway. He'd spent the past five years working in a boring office, surrounded by equally boring people, surrounded by an equally boring life.
Yes, it was safe to say that things looked bleak.
He traced the outline of his knife with his index finger. If he died now, he wouldn't have any more problems. Death erased that, it cleaned the sheets. If he went to jail, he'd probably, eventually, rat out his friends.
His friends weren't the sort to take kindly to betrayal.
Jimmy, the weedy little accountant from cubicle six, was actually Jimmy, the weedy little accountant who carried an 8" flick-knife and had multiple mob connections. He would have been perfectly happy carrying on his double life, with the integrity of an accountant and the income of a mobster, if he hadn't come back from his coffee break to find 3 FBI agents searching his cubicle, and one other scanning the corridor. It was for the reason he found himself out on the ledge, with nothing but a jail sentence or a thirty feet drop to look forward to.
He knew that if he went with them, he'd be put away for life. And the mob didn't care about you when you were in jail. So his thoughts of escape from there evaporated instantly.
He didn't really want to throw himself from the roof. He probably couldn't bring himself to do it anyway, so he could dismiss that idea as well.
What a great list of options, he thought bitterly.
He was about to give up hope and surrender to a life of maggot-infested food and group showers when a head poked down from the ledge above.
And oh, my, that is one hairy head.
"Going up?" The head spoke, extending a concrete-slab sized hand. Jimmy knew he now had another option. And this one seemed like a very good option indeed. It didn't end up in death or a jail cell, or so he hoped.
"Sure," He said, taking the hand. He was instantly hoisted up onto the ledge above.