A bit of a long chapter - but I'm trying to wrap this story up and get back to Eirenia. Hope you enjoy!
He hurt – everywhere. His legs hurt, his feet hurt, his back hurt, his butt hurt and his head hurt. He was pretty sure that if he thought about it he'd identify other parts of his body that were in pain, but decided there were enough with the ones he'd already counted.
He reached his bed and felt like he almost wanted to cry like a baby. He had to get into bed, which meant standing up and he really didn't know if he could do that. He'd just come back from physical therapy and had discovered that the therapist was the long-lost brother of Baal. The man was obsessed with torturing him, every single day. And what made it worse is that there was no sarcophagus at the end to repair him.
He snorted. "You must be in bad shape to be missing the damn sarcophagus", he muttered to himself. He looked again at the bed and sighed. He really didn't know if he could make it. He'd insisted on wheeling himself back from therapy to his room and now he was faced with the consequences of his stubbornness.
He'd been in the damned rehabilitation hospital for two months – once he'd been healthy and stable enough Janet had had him transferred out of the SGC.
"You need specialized therapy Sir", she'd explained. "We don't have the facilities here and anyway, you'd get awfully tired of being stuck underground. You need to be in a place that's brighter and has more things to do."
It had sounded good at the time, but she hadn't told him about the torture chamber and the sadists who worked here. She had told him that it would take time, but not that after eight weeks he'd feel like he was no better off than when he'd left the mountain.
For a while had tried to stay positive, but the last week he'd pretty much given up. He'd realized that although he could feel his legs, he could still barely use them. He had had to face the fact that his career was over and that he'd be a cripple for the rest of his life.
Things ahead looked bleak and pretty hopeless. He knew a medical discharge was in his future, although Hammond hadn't said anything yet. After that, well, he didn't know. He couldn't even go and retire to his cabin since it wasn't set up for someone who could barely get around.
He could walk a few steps, but only with the aid of a god-damned walker. He felt like an eighty-year old walking around with the damned thing and almost preferred the wheelchair. At least sitting he didn't look like a clumsy oaf. He dropped his head to his chest and slowly pounded one fist against the arm of the wheelchair.
He was essentially useless. He had no training for anything outside the Air Force – at least nothing he could do without a healthy body. He wasn't stupid, no matter how he'd liked to let others think he was, but at the same time he was no scholar. He liked to read and find out about things, but he couldn't spend hours every day immersed in academics. And even if he was, he wouldn't know what to do with it.
He'd have a good pension, so money wasn't really an issue, but he was too young to sit in his garden and watch the world go by. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair. It would have been better if he'd died instantly when Morris had tackled him, rather than having to deal with this slow, waking death.
"Hey Jack!" Daniel's chipper voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hey, what are you doing sitting there? Are you planning on going somewhere?"
He slowly turned his head to look at his friend. Daniel didn't look good – he had lines between his brows and dark circles under his eyes. He wondered briefly what was wrong, but then quickly let go of the thought. His friends were fine on their own. They didn't need a useless has-been worrying about them.
"Yeah Daniel" he answered sarcastically, "I was just about to head out on a hiking trip. Wanna come?"
Daniel frowned, but tried to sound cheerful. "No sorry. I'm tired and would much rather sit and take it easy for a while. We just got back from PR-"
"Fine – suit yourself", Jack interrupted. He turned the wheelchair and headed over towards the window. He couldn't bear to hear about what missions they were on.
Daniel lost the cheerful expression the moment Jack turned away from him. He followed the older man with his eyes and sighed. He didn't know what to do, and nor did anyone else. They'd all discussed it – Hammond had actually called them all together, concerned about his subordinate.
"He's fallen into a deep depression", Janet had explained, which was a surprise to no one. "It's not uncommon when people are dealing with long-term therapy. It's especially hard on the Colonel though as he's normally such an active person."
"O'Neill see his value in being able to protect others", Teal'c said softly.
"Yes", Janet smiled. "You're right. I expect that right now he doesn't feel very – valuable. He's also frightened about the future."
"What is the future Janet?" Sam asked. "What's his prognosis?"
Janet and Hammond shared a look and then the doctor turned back to the others. "You know I can't say too much – I'm even uncomfortable saying as much as I have. Look, it's really impossible to say in these kinds of injuries what will happen. Some people can have an almost total recovery – although there's usually some long-term effects and they may deal with things as they get older. Others, depending on the extent of the damage, will only progress to a certain point and then pretty much stay there."
"And you don't know which of those scenarios will fit Jack?"
"No", Janet sighed. "The good news is that he was extremely fit and athletic before this happened. He's also a good healer. The downside is we don't really know the extent of the damage and he's not as young as he used to be."
"Will he be able to return to work?" Sam asked softly. She knew this was really the crux of the matter and the elephant no one wanted to name.
"We don't know Major", Hammond told her gently. "We can wait as long as we need to in order for the Colonel to recuperate, although eventually a decision will have to be made. No one wants to lose him and we'll do whatever we can to make sure he has a place here."
"But not on a front-line team?" Daniel asked bluntly.
"Daniel, we don't know", Janet replied, a bit impatiently. "That's what we're trying to tell you. It could happen – although it was a serious injury. If he does make it back to the field it won't be for a number of months. He has a long way to go, but the important thing is not to give up."
"I think he has already given up Doctor Frasier", Teal'c said bluntly.
"I know", she replied, "and that's one of the reasons we've called you here. We need to encourage him to keep going. He needs to keep doing the therapy if there's a chance, at all, that he'll get over this. The problem is that Colonel O'Neill isn't the most patient man in the world -"
"Pfff!" Daniel snorted. "Really?"
Everyone laughed a bit at that, but the humor was short lived. Janet continued.
"Therapy takes patience. He's not going to go to bed one night and get up and be back to the way he was the next day. Improvement happens slowly – and sometimes there are bumps in the road and setbacks. I'm afraid he has trouble accepting that."
"So, what do you want us to do Doc?" Daniel asked the question but all the others nodded. They wanted to help their friend and commander, but they all knew it was going to be tough.
"I want you to stick by him, no matter what", she answered. "And I'm afraid that may be difficult because the Colonel is not going to make it easy for us. We all know what he's like – he will do everything in his power to push us away – and he'll convince himself he's doing it for our own good."
This time it was Sam who snorted. "Yeah, that's the Colonel. But how do we fight that?"
"In whatever way we can!"
So Daniel stood watching as his friend moved away and knew that it had started. He was going to have to be hard-assed to deal with a Jack O'Neill bent on suffering alone.
"Feeling sorry for yourself are you?" he asked bluntly.
Jack swung around so fast he almost toppled the wheelchair over. "What?"
"I just asked if you were feeling sorry for yourself today? Teal'c said he thought you were, but I figured you were just tired."
"What the hell - ? Why are you here Daniel? If you're just here to insult me you might as well go. I don't need this crap!"
"Oh – so you're telling me you're not feeling sorry for yourself? So what's wrong then?"
"Nothing's wrong", he barked. "I just want to be alone. Is that a crime?"
"No, of course not, although I don't believe you", Daniel answered calmly. He walked over to one of the two chairs in the room and sat down. He exhaled deeply. "It feels good to sit down. I'm tired."
"Hah!" Jack laughed without humor. "Try sitting all day and see if you still say that!"
"I'm sure I wouldn't. I expect you get tired of sitting."
"Yeah", Jack snorted. "But it's about the only thing I can do – that or lie down. I've got blisters on my ass from sitting so long."
"Really?" Daniel sounded interested.
"No Daniel, not really!" Actually, he had started to get sores but there was no way in hell he was going to share that with people.
"Oh – well, I thought it might be like bed sores or something. Did you go for therapy today?"
"What the hell is this Jackson – twenty questions? I'm in a F**K'n rehab hospital. What do you think it do?"
"I don't know – I figured maybe you were being such a bastard today they didn't take you." Daniel wondered briefly if he'd gone too far when it looked as if Jack wanted to hit him. He was actually relieved – it was better than the monosyllabic answers he'd received the other day. Some emotion was actually good. He sighed though when he saw the fire die out of Jack's eyes and turn himself back to look out the window.
"Come on Jack – why don't we go outside? It's a beautiful day."
"No."
"Come on. You'll enjoy it."
"What part of 'no' don't you understand Daniel?'
"So, you're just going to sit there and stare out the window?"
Jack didn't answer and Daniel wanted to scream – or grab the wheelchair and force him outside. He wondered briefly what the Colonel would do if he tried – but figured it really wasn't a good idea.
"Sam said she'd come over later", he finally offered, changing the subject.
"Tell her not to bother", was all Jack answered.
"Bother? I'm sure she doesn't see it as a bother. She's your friend."
"Carter needs to get a life. And anyway, I'm here CO, not her friend."
"Jack!" Daniel exclaimed. "That's – come on, she is too your friend."
"No – and I'm not her CO anymore either, am I? She should find some nice guy and go out and have fun. The last thing she needs to do is babysit her old, ex -commander."
"You're not being fair to her, or to yourself. She wants to be here. She cares -"
"Enough Daniel. Just leave it – and please – just go, okay?" He voice went soft and had an edge of despair.
Daniel didn't know what to do. Should he do as the man wanted or ignore him? He hated to see him like this but didn't know how to help. He stood slowly and walked up to his friend, standing behind him. He reached out carefully and placed his hand on the older man's shoulder. "I'll go for now Jack, but I'll be back, and so will the others. You're gonna be okay you know and we're going to be right here with you, no matter how hard you push us away. You may be stubborn, but not nearly as stubborn as one archaeologist, a Jaffa and an Air Force brat." He squeezed the silent man's shoulder. "Don't let yourself get so down. It's gonna take a while, but you'll get there."
When the Colonel didn't respond Daniel sighed, gave one more squeeze, and left.
Jack sat, not moving, in front of the window. He didn't really see anything as he was looking inward rather than at the view. Sadly, he didn't like what he saw.
Sam hesitated outside the Colonel's door. Daniel had told her it hadn't gone well yesterday and she was nervous about what he'd say to her. She thought back to Janet's words and knew she had to keep trying to get through to him, no matter what he said or did. Still, it was hard. She so wanted to reach out and hold him and tell him it would be okay, but she knew she couldn't. Not only would it be improper, she was positive he wouldn't accept any comfort from her. As far as she could tell, he wasn't ready to accept it from anybody. For the first time she wondered about his marriage. She'd heard rumors that Sara had divorced him because he wouldn't talk to her after the death of their son and it had destroyed their marriage. She knew he was a man who found it hard to accept help or support when he needed it.
She took a deep breath and knocked. After a few seconds there was a faint 'come in' and she pushed the door open and walked in.
Colonel O'Neill was sitting in a chair, his head resting on the back. There was an open book in his lap, but somehow she was pretty sure he hadn't been reading it. "Sir?"
"Carter", he answered, not even lifting his head in acknowledgement of her presence.
"Uh – did I get you at a bad time Sir?"
"No." At that he finally lifted his head and looked at her. "Not on a mission today?"
"No. I have a couple of days off. We were gone most of last week." She knew that someone must have already told him but he didn't say anything. "Nothing interesting I'm afraid." When he still didn't speak she sighed and walked forward. "Mind if I sit Colonel?"
"Suit yourself Major. I'm afraid I'm not very good company."
"That's okay – I'm probably not the best either. What are you reading?"
He lifted the book and closed it so that he could see the cover. He squinted at it for a moment. "Uh The Life of Pi."
"Oh, I've heard that's good", she told him.
"I have no idea. Daniel brought it. I don't even know what it's about."
Well that was a conversation killer, she thought. She took another breadth. "Did Daniel tell you about our last mission?"
"No."
"Well, Sg-6 was there a couple of weeks ago and found an interesting -"
"I'm sorry Carter", he interrupted. "I'm afraid I'm not really interested in listening to a mission report right now."
"Oh – sorry."
Jack looked at the stricken and embarrassed face of the woman opposite him and cursed himself silently. "Look, I'm sorry Major – it's nice of you to come by but like I told you, I'm really not in a great mood right now. I don't mean to be rude but -"
"But you'd like me to leave?"
He suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. God – he didn't want her to go – he wanted to tell her he needed her and could she please hold him and then maybe he could rest. He wanted to tell her she was the one bit of light in his dark world – but he couldn't. Not only was it still not allowed, there was no way he'd burden her with a crippled old man. He knew her well enough to know that she'd stay with him, be there for him as long as he needed her. The problem was, she didn't need him. More than that, he'd be bad for her.
"Yeah, I think so Major", he said softly, refusing to look at her. "I – appreciate you coming Sam but -"
"You'd rather be alone?"
He smiled slightly. "You need to be out having fun Carter – not hanging around some grumpy old soldier. I'll be fine. In fact Ralph is coming in just a couple of minutes to get me for my afternoon therapy so I'm afraid we wouldn't have any time anyway."
She nodded and stood up slowly. "I'll come back and see you tomorrow Sir. Maybe by then -"
"No. No Sam – as much as I appreciate it, it's best if you don't. I – need to figure this out and it's better if I do it on my own."
She looked at him, her eyes huge and sparkling with unshed tears. He felt worse than a heel – he knew he was hurting her, but it was for the best. She'd soon get on with her life and her brilliant career. One day she'd meet the perfect man, get married, have a couple of kids and continue to save the world. Yes, it was for the best.
"Why are you doing this Jack?" she finally asked. "Why are you pushing us all away? Don't you know how much we care – I care for you. We're your friends and I – you know how I feel -"
"Stop! Carter no." He held up his hand. He couldn't let her continue because he wasn't strong enough. He could so easily give in, he could so easily hold out his arms. "Look – I appreciate that and of course you're my friends, but friends also need to know when to let go. Please?" He was almost begging.
"But what about us?" There, she brought it out of the room because it was her last chance.
"There is no us Carter", he told her gently. "I'm your former commander and, and friend. There can't be any more than that – there never could be. Please", he asked again, "just go. I'll be fine. Go and get a life Sam – find someone who's whole and young and who can love you the way you deserve to be loved. I'll be fine", he repeated.
He used every bit of strength and courage and just plain guts to look her in the eye and not break down. He knew he was a hair's breadth away from letting her see what he was so desperately trying to hide – that he loved her more than he'd ever loved a woman in his life.
She looked carefully into his eyes. She knew him – knew he'd do anything to help his friends, to save them. She needed to see whether he was being honest or whether he was sending her away for her sake, rather than his. She stared intently – looking for any sign of his love. After what seemed like forever she closed her eyes. There was none. He no longer loved her, if he ever had. There was no reason then to stay. She had to respect his wishes and leave him alone. That is what he wanted and she knew she would only embarrass him if she stayed.
"I'm sorry Sir", she finally spoke, amazed that she could even speak. "I'll leave if that's what you want. You know", her voice broke. "You know that if you ever need me – " her voice petered out.
"Of course Carter", he smiled. "And the same here, although I don't know how much I'll be able to help anyone", he said, tapping his leg. "You take care of yourself – and go find yourself some nice young man!"
She didn't respond to that immediately, she simply walked towards the door, trying desperately to look as if she wasn't dying inside. She took the handle of the door and then turned slightly towards him. "You too Sir – I mean take care of yourself." She smiled slightly. "I don't expect you to find a nice young man."
He laughed dutifully although he really wanted to cry. He gave a small wave and waited until the door had closed behind her and then dropped his head in his hands.
He didn't know how long he'd sat there like that – and guessed that it didn't really matter. It's not like he had anywhere to go or anything to do. He'd lied when he'd told her he had a therapy session. He'd already had it this morning and had a rare afternoon off. Great – free time to think about his crappy life.
Just then there was a soft knock on the door. He almost groaned, figuring it had to be either Daniel, Teal'c, Frasier - or one of the other myriads of SGC personnel who came to visit regularly. He decided not to answer – not wanting to see anyone right now and have to pretend to be friendly.
It didn't work, however, as the door opened anyway. He was about to call out something sarcastic about privacy, when a strange head appeared around the door.
"Colonel O'Neill?" the man asked.
"Uh yeah", he frowned. Who the hell was this?
"Oh good." The door opened wide and a man in his mid-forties walked into the room. He looked extremely fit and strong, although there was something different about him, which Jack couldn't quite identify. He moved all the way up to Jack's chair and stuck his hand out. "Hi. I'm Bill Nichols."
Jack stared at him for a moment, debating whether or not to take it but finally reached out his own hand. He knew he could be rude and obnoxious at times but he generally tried to maintain some semblance of manners. He practically yelped when, instead of grasping warm flesh, his hand pressed against something hard and unyielding. It was such a surprise that he almost jerked his hand back but stopped himself in time.
"Yeah – you wouldn't want to pull it off."
Jack looked up in shock, to see the man – Bill – grinning at him. He could feel himself flush in embarrassment and let the artificial hand go. "I'm sorry – I didn't-"
"That's okay", Nichols responded. "I'm used to it – and I admit that I'm bad about teasing people. It's not very nice of me, I know." He glanced around briefly. "Mind if I sit?" Without waiting for a reply he sat in the other chair and faced Jack.
It was only as the other man leaned forward slightly that Jack noticed. The man didn't just have one artificial hand – he had two. He didn't know what to say – if anything, but suddenly wondered why the guy was here.
"Thanks. I'm sure you're wondering who the hell I am and why I'm here, right?"
Jack nodded, still feeling uncomfortable after his initial reaction. "Yeah – you with the hospital?"
"No, although I sometimes do work here. Actually, I'm with the Air Force. It's actually Major Nichols"
"Really?" Jack scowled briefly. "Based where?"
"At the Academy", he answered, without giving any more details.
"And what do you do there." Jack was finding himself getting really irritated with this guy.
"Well – I teach - tactics." He pursed his lips and pondered the question for a moment. "And I guess you could say I'm also kind of a - morale officer."
"Morale officer?" He was starting to wonder if this was a set-up and couldn't help the anger that was growing, so decided to be blunt. "Uh – no disrespect but how does showing people you have no hands improve morale?"
Instead of getting angry or offended, Bill put his head back and laughed. Jack wouldn't admit it, of course, but his respect for the guy just went up.
"Yeah, I can see why that would be confusing – and it's arms, not hands." He awkwardly lifted one of the artificial limbs and tapped it on the other one. It sounded like plastic clunking together, although Jack was sure it was actually some very sophisticated material.
"My 'morale' work is actually with the VA", Nichols explained. "I do some speeches and PR kind of stuff. Yeah, I know", he said when he saw Jack's expression. "It seems kind of lame doesn't it, although actually, the military runs as much, if not more, on PR than on fighting."
Jack nodded, knowing it was true, even if he didn't like it. He wasn't quite sure what to say and was still dealing with how cheerful the guy looked after losing both his arms. Oh well – he might as well ask.
"So", he nodded towards the arms, "what happened?"
"These?" Bill held them up. "Landmine. I was with Special Ops and we had a mission to go after a terrorist cell. We found them – and I found the landmine. When I woke up in the hospital in Germany I found out that the damn thing had blown off my arms."
"I'm sorry", Jack answered, not knowing what else to say.
"Yeah, it put paid to my baseball career." He said this with a grin, which allowed Jack to smile, although he still felt uncomfortable. He was beginning to realize what this was all about and didn't like it, even though he did rather like Nichols.
"So Major, I assume you were sent to make me feel all better about what happened to me?" he said bluntly.
Nichols responded by raising his eyebrows. "Ah – I see you don't like to beat around the bush, do you. Well, my visit is totally unofficial so you're free to tell me to go to hell at any time. And I didn't come to make you feel better – but just to see if you wanted to talk to someone who's been through the torture chambers here."
Jack couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped him, even though a part of him was still angry. "So, who sent you? Janet? Daniel? Or maybe it was Hammond?"
"Uh – I'm afraid I don't know any of those folks and no one really sent me. It was actually Ralph who thought I might like to meet you."
"Ralph?" Ralph was actually Lieutenant Washington and the man who put Jack through hell on a daily basis with therapy.
"Yeah, he's a friend of mine. We get together for a beer once in a while and he mentioned you and said if I was around here one day I might drop by." He held up a hand when Jack looked like he was about to explode. "Don't worry – he didn't tell me a thing about you except you'd been hurt and were doing therapy with him. Other than that, and your name and rank, I know absolutely nothing."
"Oh." Jack felt himself deflate somewhat and then felt his curiosity stirred. "Uh – did you know – Ralph before you were hurt?"
"No. He was my therapist and we hit it off. Oh, not at first. For the first few months I spent most of my days swearing at him and calling him every foul thing I could. I'm really surprised he didn't kill me. In the end though, we got to know each other and then figured we had some things in common. Of course, there are still days I want to deck him, but for the most part I think he's a pretty decent guy." Bill was grinning at the end of his little speech.
Jack looked at him in surprise. He detested Lieutenant Ralph Washington. The man was a sadist. He really didn't understand how this guy could be friends with him. And that brought him back to the reason Nichols was here.
"Well, it was nice of him but I don't really see why he'd want you to come and visit me. I didn't lose my arms – no offense."
"None taken, although you're here for something – was it battle related?"
Jack clenched his teeth, wanted to tell the guy to get the hell out, but then he glanced at those artificial hands and decided he couldn't. "Yeah", he said, not giving any other explanation.
"I see. Were you serving overseas?"
"Classified", Jack responded.
"Oh, okay. I get that."
After an awkward pause, when it looked as if Bill was going to get up and leave, Jack finally couldn't control his curiosity any more. "How do you manage?"
"With these?" Bill held them up. "Well, it's getting better although sometimes I still find it frustrating. I've gotten so I can do simple things and the limbs are getting more and more sophisticated all the time." He smiled again. "I let them use me as a test dummy and get to try out some neat technology, although some of it doesn't work very well. You should have seen the time I stuck an ice cream cone onto my forehead. My daughter thought it was the funniest thing in the world! For the most part I'm okay with them though." He suddenly grew serious. "I think the thing I miss the most is being able to hug my wife and kids and feel them with my arms."
That did it. Jack could feel his eyes well up in sympathy and grew even more embarrassed than he had been earlier. He turned his face away from Nichols, not wanting the man to see that his words had affected him. He though back earlier to his desire to have Sam hold him, to put his arms around her, and suddenly felt ashamed.
"I'm sorry", Nichols apologized. "I usually don't allow myself to do that. I really wasn't looking for sympathy it's just most people are too afraid to ask how I handle these. They see me as some kind of hero or something and a guy who has 'overcome great tragedy'", Jack could almost see the air quotes as the guy spoke. "But honestly – it's been hard and at times still is, but I've gotten to the point where I'm just grateful that I survived, that I have a career I enjoy and that I still have the love of a good woman, my children and a few good friends." He laughed softly. "So, I am a lot luckier than a lot of guys who've fought and who didn't come back at all."
"That's what this is about, isn't it", Jack said softly. "Ralph thought you could come in a cheer me up and make me go – 'hey, I'm not so bad after all. I have all sorts of things I should be grateful for so get off my ass and stop feeling sorry for myself.' That's it, right?"
"Maybe", Bill acknowledged, "Or maybe he just thought you needed someone you could talk to. If you're like me you don't want to burden your friends or family with what you're feeling. Look Colonel – you've obviously been dealt a shitty hand and it's tough – really tough. It takes time and guts to get through something like this, but if you're half the man I think you are, you'll do it. But I also know that a lot of soldiers think they can or should do it on their own – and I'm here to tell you that you can't. This is one time when you need to rely on others – you need your therapist – and believe it or not, he really does care and he's not a sadist – you need your doctors and you especially need your family and friends. Don't push them away. And you know what – they need you as much as you need them. They need to feel like they're doing something to help you because I can assure you, they're feeling just as lost and frightened as you are."
Jack suddenly thought back to the dark circles under Daniel's eyes, to Sam's frightened and lost expression, to Teal'c's somber silence. He knew that what Nichols was saying was true. Still, he didn't think he could let them in. If he did, they'd all see how weak and frightened he really was.
"They know", Bill said softly, as if he could read Jack's mind. "Don't think that you're hiding anything from them O'Neill. They know you're hurting and you're frightened and they want to help – and they want you to help them by being honest with them. Whatever happens, you're going to need them in your life or it really won't be worth living. You can survive and be happy without arms or legs or eyes, or the ability to walk or even to hug your wife and feel it – but you can't survive without love."
He stood up at that. "I've taken enough of your time without being invited so I'll leave you now. If you ever do want to talk, here's my number", he reached carefully into his pocket and managed to pull out a card and lay it on the small table. "I won't tell you how many hours it took me to perfect that move", he smiled. "But it does impress people."
He reached out again with his hand and this time Jack took it readily. Jack then pushed himself, awkwardly and slowly to his feet. "Thank you, it was – nice - to meet you."
"No, it probably wasn't", grinned Nichols, "but hopefully one day you'll be able to say that and mean it! I do hope you'll call Colonel – I think you and I could become friends one day." He laughed softly. "I expect we have the same perverted sense of humor."
After he'd left Jack slowly lowered himself back into his chair. The visit had thoroughly confused him. He felt all mixed up and not sure what to do or where to go from here. He turned his head and looked outside. A part of him was still angry, but it was starting to dissipate, leaving him with a feeling of sadness, and a teeny, tiny bit of hope.
For the first time in weeks he slept well that night. When he woke up the following morning he was actually looking forward to therapy. He and a certain therapist had to have a serious talk. He grinned. And maybe after that he'd call his friends and invite them over.