AN: Graphic warning – this chapter contains a flashback dealing with torture that is not left to your imagination. I do prefer imply and leave it to your minds to create certain details but I had many requests to write about the needles to give details why it would be so hard to hear. So since this is my first fiction I decided to try my hand at it (scares me a bit that my mind could be so dark and come up with this stuff - eewww).
Apologies to those that don't like to read this kind of detail. The story will read fine if you skip that section entirely because there is an implied thought before the flashback section and a lead back into present day that work whether you read the torture scene or not. The torture scene is clearly delineated as a flashback, so you can easily recognize and skip it if so desired.
Heather & Jim, Torture, Tag Team, Slow is Smooth …
Hospital – Elevator & Eighth Floor Nurses Station – 5:30 am
Heather was feeling happy this morning. She was waiting for the elevator to open up on the eighth floor. She had just finished her shift and she was on her way to visit with Sam knowing that Patch would likely be there. Oh darn, she thought, I gotta change that. Jim, Jim, Jim she said in her head three times as memories of last Friday night came to mind.
They had gone out on their first official date. Patch, I mean Jim had been so attentive, They had so much fun. Over dinner he turned serious and told her 'Heather, I really like you. I know this is quick, but I've learned life can be short so to not waste time. I want a future with you'.
She had been overjoyed by his words because she felt the same way. She had responded 'Patch, I …' but that was as far as she got when he interrupted her. He said 'Patch is my past; please call me by my given name Jim. I want a future with you and want to be Jim now'.
Heather understood perfectly what he meant by it. All the time they had spent together helping Sam, she could see the pain the past caused him. He needed to move forward. He loved Sam and the other guys and would always be there for them but he needed to put the hurt of the things that happened over there away. He had kissed her deeply then. Her lips tingled even now as she recalled their first passionate kiss. Ding. The door opened to the eighth floor.
She was repeating 'Jim' over and over again in her head. She would eventually make the change but she was still so used to calling him Patch. She stopped at the nurse station and smiled broadly at the nurse that had suggested the pain pump. The elation that suggestion had brought to Jim was palpable. What was her name again? She racked her brain, that's right Bettie.
Heather beamed brightly as she said "Hello Bettie. Have you seen Jim and how's our Samtastic doing?"
Bettie looked up from her paperwork. Heather saw concern written on her face. "Bettie?" Bettie just shook her head, raised her arm and pointed in the direction of Sam's room. Heather hurried in that direction, something was not right.
Bettie dropped her head into her hands again. She had arrived on shift at four am to find an extremely confusing and upsetting scene outside Sam's room. None of the nurses were allowed to enter his room per Dr. Markson's orders. One of the night nurses said the doctor told Sam he would never be able to do his job again and all hell had broken loose.
His team had barred everyone from entering his room since five pm last night. But about three am they started to trickle out looking overwrought. She had seen them in the hall sitting against the wall. She had never seen a mix of those emotions on people's face before and wished she never had.
Hospital – Outside Sam's Room – 5:30 am
Heather's heart dropped to the floor. The looks on all their faces as they stared at Sam's door scared the hell out of her. Jim was sitting there with an odd mix of horror and begging on his face like he was trapped in another time and place. Greg looked like he was about to hurl, he was so white and still, none of his usual control. Spike's wide open eyes had a strange wild panic but faraway look to them.
Jules had a completely blank look and had her arm around Wordy's shoulders. That was strange; it was always the other way. Why was she the one comforting him? She couldn't see Wordy's face it was down and buried in his hands. The General's jaw was set tight in rage but his eyes read deep abiding sorrow. Lou looked as if something precious had been shattered and fragmented in too many pieces to mend.
God no, he couldn't have, what would have caused it? She knew he was having trouble breathing but he was going to be okay. Right? Was the damage even more than the doctor thought? He had woken up he was okay. But their devastated looks.
He didn't ... no he couldn't be gone. He fought so hard. Oh god she was afraid to know the answer to the question that would not quite form. She forced herself step by step to approach Jim. She knelt down in front of him and clasped her hands around his where they rested on top of his bent knees.
Jim registered someone in front of him. Warm hands gently held his. He focused on the face. "Oh Heather, he …" his shaky voice softly called out but didn't finish his statement choked off by a sob emitted from his throat.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. Tears fell from her eyes for two reasons. Seeing Jim in such pain and the implication of the words he was able to get out. She just held him as he quietly cried.
Hospital – Inside Sam's Room – 5:30 am
Sam said "How?" As his body uncurled his eyes closed losing contact with Ed. He rolled onto his back. He opened his eyes and focused on the ceiling above him.
Scott and Ed turned and looked at each other. Hooked! They had hooked him. Thank god they had him on the line. Now they just had to reel him in without losing him. It was a tenuous hold they had at the moment. But they had hooked him.
Elation quickly turned to uneasiness. They realized they had been so focused on getting him to this point of asking a question that they had failed to prepare an answer. The hook could be lost with one wrong word or one wrong emotion. Sharing a look each knew the other was scrambling to come up with something to say.
Scott finally ventured "Sam, we will find a way. Your family, all of us wants this for you as much as you want it. We won't let you fail. Not gonna lie, it will be hard work but I've never known a Braddock who was afraid of hard work when they had a goal to achieve."
Sam did not realize Scott was in the room. Until now he only thought Ed was here. That is all his mind had registered until Scott had spoken. He looked at Scott. He saw a potential reflection of himself as he scrutinized Scott. A weird thought entered his head. Would he look like that in eight years?
Agony rushed through him. Would he even be here in eight years? A large part of him still wanted to die. Part of him would be dead if he could not return to the work that had become his salvation, his path to living. Being half alive was not an option. Been there done that. Never will allow it to happen again. So he either got back to work or he would end it fully.
Sam realized that Scott must have heard everything he had said. He didn't know why he had to say it aloud but he did. He had to give voice to every damned inhumane, vicious, sadistic and savage detail. Losing his grip of the present, his eyes glazed over as the horrific memories slid back and took root again in his mind.
Graphic warning: Flashback – Terrorist Camp Somewhere in Afghanistan
He was stripped naked and forced to kneel on the hard packed desert soil with rocks biting into his knees. Arms outstretched as if on a cross. Chained and stretched to the limits pulling muscles taut; any tighter and his shoulders would dislocate.
Left to blister in the sun for hours. He was so thirsty. How many more blows to the head, ribs, kidneys and stomach could he take? How many more times would they stomp on his feet, grinding the tops of them into the rocky soil, how many toes had they broken?
Why couldn't he just pass out and escape some of this pain? Head hung down to his chest blood dripped from his dry split lips and lacerations inside the mouth. His eyes almost swollen shut. His jaw and ribs ached from so many blows.
Oh god not the whip again. He saw it again. Long thin strips of leather with several strands knotted at various lengths. The bastards stood there and taunted him verbally all the while threatening him with the pain the whip would inflict.
They said he was a failure for getting caught. That no one cared whether he lived or died. Told him no one was coming to rescue him. They repeatedly declared that he was a pitiful, discarded, unworthy animal that should be punished for just being born.
At first his mind resisted and fought their words. His unit would come for him. Matt, Blaze, Winds, Patch, and Mason would protect him like he protected them so many times. Matt would come, surely Matt would save him. But after days turned to weeks that turned to months and the torment repeated continually and no one came to save him he had started to believe.
He was worthless, unlovable, tainted and he should just die. But he never died. They cruelly took him to the edge of death again and again but never let him reach the final release from his suffering.
Sam stared at the whip as the strands swung gently back and forth, almost mesmerized by them. He tried so hard to use his training to put his mind somewhere else. But then the hand holding the whip pulled back and the lashes hit him with such force.
Pain lanced across his back with every powerful strike. He clenched his jaw refusing to cry out as they ripped open his back. Then they started on the chest. He could not swallow every sob. More and more started to escape his throat which caused the strikes to increase with fury. They wanted to hear him howl out in pain; moans and grunts were not enough for them.
They released his arms and he dropped to the ground. His blood soaked into the earth beneath him. Sam tried to curl up to protect himself. They viciously grabbed his feet sending sharp shards of pain racing through them. They drug him across the burning, rocky ground into a small fetid smelling room. His back and chest flayed open from lashes of the whip now embedded with rocks and dirt.
He lay there beaten, bloodied and not a piece of flesh left unbruised.
Arms and legs violently yanked and spread out to their full X extension then tied with coarse biting ropes to the stakes in the ground in that tiny room. Wrists and ankles quickly became bloody, raw and several layers of skin scoured off from struggling for release.
Disgusting laughter increased the more he thrashed against the bindings that held him tight. This time tied face up. Other times tied face down. He was wide open, defenseless, vulnerable, helpless and unable to curl to protect any part of his body.
The bastards completely surrounded him and kicked him brutally with steel toed boots. Their malevolent chortles rang in the air at each one of his pitiful screams. No part of his body was spared from the kicks; head, arms, legs, torso, privates.
Ears ringing from the last kick to the head, through the slits of his battered eyes, he could see his blood splattered and stained the toes of their boots.
Then they brought out the needles. Each held dozens of long thin needles. They took sadistic pleasure in jabbing them into him over and over again. Stabbing everywhere. No place left untouched; even thrusting them into private areas, especially there.
Their excitement reached fevered pitches when they debased him by targeting him there because his shrieks of pain amplified tenfold. They always stopped short of letting the blackness take him to oblivion and relief. They kept him locked in a cycle of unrelenting pain for hours on end.
When they tired of the game or he was close to falling into blackness they left him to whimper and writher in pain tied down, exposed, terrified and covered in hundreds of needles. The bastards would return to kick him often, ramming the needles in further. Embedded so far they had to press down hard on his flesh to reach a tip or use tweezers to dig down and rip them out so they could be used again the next time.
Sometimes after the daily waterboarding they would leave him in a pool of water. Dozens of the metal needles made contact with the water and acted as conduits when they apply electric cables to the puddles. Shocks coursing through him produced raw screams from him and sickening laughter from the bastards.
One bastard took particular pleasure in pretending to care. He always looked at him with pity. His mind would fall for it every time; needing desperately to have someone care. His mind muddled by constant pain and starvation. But his look of pity would turn to a revolting sneer as he heated the needles to a glowing red.
In a soothing voice he would tell him it was to sterilize them so his wounds would not become infected. Then the bastard would giggle wickedly as he drove the burning hot needles slowly and deeply into his stomach causing him to vomit only bile. No food or water in his system.
He suffered so much excruciating, unrelenting pain, inflicted for the sole purpose of providing amusement for sadistic bastards. Never asking him for information. They taunted him telling him that they knew he was JTF2 but never asked for information. Just constant merciless, inhumane torture perpetrated for fun.
End Flashback – Return to Present
Hospital – Inside Sam's Room – 6 am
Scott had been forcefully calling to Sam since he saw his eyes start to glaze over. He could tell Sam was someplace else and it was bad. He needed to break him loose and bring him back to the present. He didn't dare touch him in this state, he did not have a death wish. So he called and called and called, tried to get Sam to hear him "…hear me SAM."
Sam was slowly pulled back to the present as he finally heard his name. Panting for breath, head pounding, the room spinning but starting to come back into focus. It was Scott calling him; he was not there. Memories fresh in his mind Sam found Scott and looked pointedly at his eyes, probing.
He would not be able to take it if he saw pity. If there was pity he'd end the relentless torture now and they could not stop him. He could handle anything but the shame of seeing pity. There was no honor in pity, only humiliation and failure.
It was his fault he was captured. He should have been more aware; he was special ops for god's sake. He should have never been taken. He knew the crap Murphy pulled, he should have been prepared. There was no excuse for not being prepared. He would never make that mistake again. Sam was prepared now if he saw pity. He had registered five ways he could do it right now. Three would be quick and painless; two would be messy and a slow painful death but still effective.
He continued to probe Scott's face.
Scott did not break eye contact even as fear increased in the pit of his stomach at the force of Sam's stare. Sam was searching for something. He was not sure what. Scott was afraid to show the wrong thing so he iced all emotions and adopted an expressionless look. Hoping that was the right thing to do.
Ed was worried. He saw Sam glaze over and sat silently as Scott tried to drag him back to reality. There was a bit of relief when Sam connected with Scott's eyes. But it was short lived. He could see that Sam's thoughts were turning dark. He saw the almost imperceptible flick of Sam's eyes to several parts of the room as he looked at Scott. His eyes had narrowed and were wary and his body looked ready to react almost like a caged animal readying to attack.
He needed to break Sam's dangerous train of thought. Adopting his TL persona and voice of authority he used on hot calls he said "Sam, we need a tactical plan now. One that gets you back to the team. Do you copy?"
The oddity of Ed's words pulled Sam from his deadly thoughts and he turned to face Ed confusion evident as he said "A … tactical … plan … back … to the … team?"
Speaking the concept out loud as his mind latched onto it with vengeance. Something familiar in the sea of confusion he was swirling and drowning in.
Scott instantly thought what a brilliant way to put it Ed. Sam's mind excelled at tactical planning. A huge smile threatened to settle on his face but he quickly tamped it down and remained poker-faced. His watch beeped. He reset it and reached forward to press the button.
Sam saw his action and pinned him with a look of curiosity. In a nonchalant voice Scott said "It was time. Gotta keep the pain in check so you can heal."
Wholly confused, not sure what to think or say Sam looked toward the window. Aw crap, his mind was all over the place like a fish trying to dislodge a hook by thrashing to and fro. He saw the sun peak over the horizon. It was sunrise? What the hell?
Crap, how many more days did he lose? With Matt it had been three weeks. He was so fucked up. He closed his eyes trying to regain some semblance of balance. Thoughts running wild and unchecked he mentally grabbed onto three words 'challenge' and 'tactical plan'. He clung to those as his mind quieted and distilled his thoughts.
Ed had challenged him. Ed had said he needed a tactical plan. Ed had said he was going to be okay. Ed said he wouldn't let him give up. Ed said to prove the doctors wrong. Ed said return to the team.
Wanting to stay in the rational world Sam opened his eyes and watched the sun rise till it was well above the horizon. Could he come out of the dark? Could he rise? His throat too raw to speak Sam opted to point at the clock and gave Ed a questioning look.
Ed had watched the internal struggle and was glad to see Sam point to the clock. Understanding Ed said "Only the one night. It was five pm when we found you. Most the team and the General were here until about three am. It's nearly six-thirty am. I think the team and the General are still in the hall. Do you want them to come in and help with the tactical plan?"
He hoped Sam would say yes. The others needed to see Sam was beyond the talk section moving toward accepting the challenge.
Sam wanted them to come in but wondered why they left. Shit, no he didn't wonder why. Matt had told him what he did last time and the unit's reactions. Oh crap could he face them? Did they think he was broken and damaged, someone to be pitied? His thoughts started down the dark path again. Registering four more methods; damn this room was full of them. It would be so easy to end it here.
Ed quickly said with the same authority he used earlier "Samo, stop. Stop now." Sam blinked and looked at Ed guardedly.
Getting Sam's attention again Ed continued with firm conviction "Yes it hurt them to hear what you said. But that is because you are family. They care. What hurts one hurts all. They do not feel sorry for you. They understand the events in your life, things you had no control over, have caused you to endure some intense brutality. But you are a good man, one sorely tested and proven stronger as a result of what you withstood. Strength forged in fire. Each one of us is proud to call you brother, friend, son, family."
Ed's words were something Sam wanted so badly to hear. But could he believe them? Were they true or just said to placate him? He was afraid. He so wanted them to be true. Courage, he needed courage. His mind was racing again, fear reaching up and grabbing at him, lacing it's filthy tendrils into the rational part of his brain trying to drag him back down into the pit. Damn he couldn't stop it.
This was exhausting Scott thought watching all the emotions play out in Sam's eyes and across his face. If I feel this way I can only imagine how exhausted Sam must be. He could see fear creeping in now and taking hold. He was damned glad Ed was here. They were tag teaming. Scott wondered how the hell Matt did it alone.
A quick look at Ed communicated 'my turn now'. "Sam, hey Sam look at me." Sam turned to Scott. "Alright, I got an idea cuz. Why don't we take this real slow? Have them come in one at a time, alone. Give you an opportunity to settle with each one separately. You take as much time as you need with each to satisfy yourself of their feelings. How does that sound? Do you want to proceed that way?"
One at a time? Yeah he might be able to manage that. He gave a slight nod.
"Okay, good. Now you are in control. Who first?" Scott asked feeling slightly relieved.
Sam wanted to respond but his throat was raw and parched from hours of speaking. He motioned with his hand for a drink. Ed rose and poured him some water. He handed it to him then placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and gave him a 'you can do this' look.
He drank the entire glass and asked for another. Sam drank half and handed it back. Ed placed it on the table and sat back down. Sam inhaled as deep as he dared to, trying not to increase the pain level in his chest. He exhaled and said "Lou." Less lethal Lou was always calm his face passive. He hoped Lou was a safe choice.
Scott rose and said "Okay. I'll go get Lou. Ed will stay with you. I'll be gone a few minutes. Need to let them know what happened since they left. Are you okay with that?"
Nerves were beginning to fray and irrational thinking was catching hold telling him he would be hurt again. He hesitated in answering Scott. Scott stood patiently waiting for Sam to say it was okay. Giving him compete control.
As he tried to regain rational thought, he shifted on the bed to ease muscles stiff and sore from so many hours locked in place. When he moved white hot pain from broken ribs seared through his chest. He flinched and hissed and his stomach started to clench. There was nothing but water and bile in it. He was trying hard to control the nauseous that billowed up.
Ed saw Sam pale and the sweat bead on his forehead. He was instantly up and at Sam's bed with the plastic basin. Sam vomited until it was nothing but dry heaves. Both Ed and Scott held him upright on the bed.
When he finished heaving Sam was gasping for breath. They ease him back down when the heaving stopped. Scott quickly wet a cloth and ran it over Sam's face and around his neck. Scott rinsed the cloth and placed it at the back of Sam neck.
"Ok?" Ed asked worried about the gasping.
Sam shook his head no. It fucking hurt! He could not regulate his breathing and dark spots danced in his eyes.
Ed saw the struggle. "Samo, look at me. Sniper breathing. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release" Ed said as he placed his hands on either side of Sam's head and quickly turned him towards him so his own face was inches from Sam's.
Sam locked eyes to Ed. Ed released Sam's head and dropped his hands.
"That's right. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release."
Sam begged Ed with his eyes not to stop, needing the words and guidance to breathe.
"You got this buddy. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release."
Sam grasped Ed's hand as tightly as he could manage.
"I'm not going anywhere. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release."
Sam relaxed his body slightly as oxygen started getting in.
"You're doing good. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release.
Sam relaxed his death grip on Ed's hand.
"Almost under control. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release."
Sam communicated gratitude with his eyes.
"Ready for me to stop? In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release."
Sam shook no.
"Hard work huh? In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release."
Sam nodded yes.
"You afraid of hard work? In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release."
Sam shook no.
"Good because it's gonna take a lot to get you back to the team. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. We will not fail you, you will succeed. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. Got that, no other option than to prove the doctors wrong. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release. You are not called Samtastic for nothing. In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release."
Sam stared and decided to trust Ed's words.
"You ready to accept the challenge? Ready to work your ass off? In. Hold 2, 3, 4. Release."
Sam nodded yes.
"Good! Now the first step is for you to tell me out loud you accept the challenge."
Sam reached for the push button to dose himself unable to speak yet due the level of pain still coursing through him. Allowing the meds to enter and take the edge off he focused on breathing without Ed's help now but holding Ed's gaze the entire time.
Ed saw him press the meds and waited for Sam to gain control of his pain. Liking the clarity and determination he saw light in his eyes. Damn Blaze is right; you will see it in his eyes.
Scott watched spellbound as Ed helped Sam control his breathing and then presented him with the first step. He had never seen anything like that before. The fact that Sam looked for help and received it boded well he thought. He could tell Sam trusted Ed on some level. It was a trust born from mutual earned respect.
Pain ebbing to a manageable level Sam inhaled carefully and spoke slowly but with no gasp of breath in between words "I accept the challenge."
"Good. That was good. Four words in a row. Progress already." Ed smiled and his eyes reflected pride for Sam's first accomplishment.
Sam smiled shyly at the praise.
Scott smiled "So Cuz, still want to do it smooth and slow?"
"Yeah" Sam responded. He still was raw needed to take it slow. Knowing he could be easily pulled back to the pit of despair and definitely not wanting to go there again.
Scott went toward the door.
Sam turned back to Ed. Scott's words triggered a memory. He recalled of one of Ed's favorite sayings. One he used often when the team was training to get them pumped up, focused on the task and working together as one to accomplish the goal.
"Hey Ed" he said to get his attention. Ed looked at him. Sam smiled. Ed was curious.
Sam said "Slow ... is smooth … smooth is ... fast …"
Together they finished with broad grins "fast ... is lethal."
Hospital – Outside Sam's Room – 7 am
As the door started to open everyone in the hall froze. Each thinking much the same thing, what was happening in there? Was Sam done talking? Had he accepted the challenge? They had been out here for about four hours. They instantly recognized it was Scott and his face did not look distressed, exhausted but not distressed.
As the door closed behind him he said quietly "Challenge accepted" as a smile broke across his face.
They were on their feet instantly and headed for the door. Scott put up his hand and said "Hold." They stopped where they stood. Scott then explained to them what had happened since they left; not repeating any details Sam gave. Just general topics until he got to the part about his feelings for SRU.
"So, the thing that threw him to the edge is that you all" looking at Team One "are important to him. Working with you gives his life purpose. He feels he belongs, that he makes a difference and it is a place he can begin to live. If he cannot rejoin the team he would rather die" Scott said.
"What does he mean begin to live?" Spike asked.
Jim just looked at him and cocked his head with a look that said 'put it together, think man'.
"Ohhh, got it" Spike said releasing a shuddering breath. "So we are going in one by one. Who did he ask for first?"
Scott nodded at Lou. "Can't tell you how long it will be before he is ready for the next. But if you could have three cups of coffee handy when I come out again it would be fantastic. I know I need some and I'm sure Ed could too. Sam is bushed but I think he wants to get this over with before he rests so it would be helpful for him too. Even if it is not strictly allowed yet."
Scott and Lou entered the room. The General, Greg and Wordy said they would take care of getting the coffee for everyone. They headed off to the break room. Jules and Spike walked a little away from the room. "Jules, I'm worried" Spike said nervously.
"Why?" Jules asked.
"You know me. My face always shows my emotions. What if I show something that sets him off or throws him over the edge?" he replied as he started to pace in a circle and run his hand through his hair.
Jules considered what he said for several moments. "What do you feel right now?"
"So many things" he answered honestly.
"What is the main feeling? Can you pinpoint it? she queried.
Spike continued to pace sorting through his emotions and trying to figure out what was foremost. There was sorrow, dread, amazement, anger, and others. But what did he feel the strongest? He finally stopped pacing and looked at her "Relief and Hopefulness."
Jules smiled. "Focus on hope solely. Bring it to the forefront. Keep it locked in your mind and it will display on your face. Sam needs to see hope."
Spike hugged her. He could do that. Hope. He would show Samtastic hope. God he loved this team. They were always there to help each other when they needed it most. He finally released Jules when Greg rounded the corner with coffee for all.
Jim and Heather had sat down next to the wall when Lou and Scott went back into the room. Heather gently asked him to explain just what was going on. They spent several minutes in quiet conversation as he told her of the past and what he thought happened here tonight. He wasn't completely sure seeing he had arrived when they were already in the hall and he adamantly refused to ask any of them for details. Once in a lifetime was one too many times to hear those details.
Heather looked at Jim with care and tenderly said "Jim, it's time to go. Sam's team, his dad and cousin can handle this now. It's time for you to move forward. Lay this burden down. You can help Sam with his physical recovery, but this, this is covered. Let's get you home, you are exhausted."
Wordy had overheard the last of what Heather said. He thought Heather was right Patch, no Jim, needs to let this go. They will all eventually need to let it go. Sam was theirs now. They would take care of him.
Moving to stand in front of Patch Wordy said "Jim, she's right. Time to go. We will put the pieces back together and help him begin to live. You need to begin to live too." He reached out a hand and helped Jim to rise then pulled him close and hugged him. "Thank you for saving Sam at the church, because of you he has a chance to live."
Jim and Heather said their goodbyes to them all. They assured them they both would be around to help Sam with figuring out a tactical plan for recovery. Arm in arm with Heather's head resting on Jim shoulder they headed for the elevators. Time for Jim to build a life with Heather.