Sam lay staring at the line where the ceiling met the external wall, just above the window that let in the late afternoon sun. He'd been awake for a while, and didn't know exactly how much time had passed since his and Spike's conversation, as he'd had no concept of what time of day it was then. It was long enough that the bouquet of irises that had been sitting in a vase on the side of his bed when he woke up last time had changed to daisies—and the number of flowers in general in his room had certainly grown. But that meant it could have been an hour ago, or twelve, or more. It was rather disconcerting, being so out of touch with such a simple construct, and he vowed to get off of whatever drugs they had him on as soon as he could… though he imagined it would be a while before that happened, because even with them, pain still pulsed sporadically through his body.

Doing his best to ignore said pain, he tried again to focus his gaze, but the bland view was just not enough to keep his attention. Currently, his head was canted to the right, away from the doorway and towards the outside wall in order to keep all pressure off of his still healing left side, thus the reason why he was staring at the seam between the wall and the ceiling. He therefore began to debate whether to try shifting his head so that he could stare at a new spot on the ceiling, or perhaps even stare towards the doorway in order to be entertained by the foot traffic. He was sorely tempted to try, and was just gearing up to do so, when footsteps alerted him to a presence that rapidly stepped into his line of sight and sat down to his right. This negated the need for turning his head, as he was now perfectly positioned to converse with the person. Which was just as well, as he doubted he would have been able to complete the small movement, if his muscles aching just at the thought of it was any indication.

"Hey Sam," his visitor greeted warmly, a genuine smile lighting up the other man's face.

"Jack," Sam replied, attempting to reciprocate Jack Rivers' smile, for he truly was glad to see him. He was pretty sure he failed miserably, though, as his facial muscles felt stiff and refused to cooperate.

"It's good to see you awake. I know you've had quite the time of it—I can't even imagine—and I certainly don't want to keep you long or strain you, but I wanted to stop by and let you know we're all pulling for you and wishing you a swift and easy recovery—the SRU isn't the same without you. Trust me, it's only been, what, nine, ten days? And no one knows which way is up anymore," he finished with a grin.

Sam snorted, appreciative of the sentiment, and he could tell Jack was sincere about his own feelings, but he doubted the sincerity of it when it came from anyone else at the SRU.

Jack picked up on Sam's skepticism and laughed. "Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit on that last piece, but only by a bit. In actuality, you're basically still around because everyone's still talking about what you did in hushed tones of awe. I know I am."

Sam couldn't stop his eye roll, which caused Jack to grow serious. "Hey, I'm not kidding, Sam. What you did is already pretty legendary. People are starting to pick apart the incident and analyze it in order to use it as a teaching scenario on how to be aware of your surroundings and analyze angles on the fly. I think the only reason some of the training officers haven't been in here already to bombard you with questions is because your boss is beating them back with glares. But trust me, he won't be able to hold them back forever."

"If you say so," Sam replied, not quite sure what to make of this new information.

"But," Jack's eyes lit up with a glint, "since I managed to sneak in here under the guise of friendship, that means I get a sneak peek. How did you pinpoint the shooters' locations like that? How'd you learn how to do that?"

"Any one of you could have done it too, you just had to be there," Sam dismissed, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

Jack rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "All right, all right, I get it. I'll let you keep your air of mystery a little longer, just know you'll have to come up with a better brush off for the training officers eventually."

"I'll make note of it. What else is going on?" he asked, glad to change the subject.

"Honestly, it's been a relatively quiet week for us. And I know I shouldn't have said that because now it's probably gonna get crazy, but," he shrugged. "The biggest news—besides your undeniable heroism—is trying to figure out reshuffling team rotations since Team One is out until they can find a temporary replacement for you, since I can't cover for you this time, as much as I'd like to."

Sam tried as hard as he could to keep any sort of reaction off his face. For one brief moment he thought maybe he'd been successful, but the damn pain meds meant his filter was a little slow to react and though he quickly schooled his face to neutral, he could tell he'd failed to keep his thoughts from showing on his face because Jack grew quiet, no trace of his previous light hearted fun.

Jack stared at him for a moment, all seriousness. Then, though his words were clearly meant for Sam, oddly, he looked away and across the room before saying, "You're thinking you might not come back."

And now Sam wished he'd stuck with the original line of questioning regarding the shooting, because while it might have made him uncomfortable, it didn't make his stomach sink with fear and uncertainty.

Those feelings gave Sam pause, though. The uncertainty had been there as he mulled that very issue over in his own mind, but the fear… that was new. What was he afraid of? Staying and watching things go back to a normal he didn't want anymore? Or leaving and losing all he'd worked for, the people he'd found a family with?

He didn't know the answer to that, so he tucked it away for further examination later. Though Jack's comment hadn't been phrased as a question, Sam answered anyway, giving voice to his thoughts and inner turmoil for the very first time: "Yes."

Jack's gaze returned to his from wherever he'd been staring, and he pursed his lips, before saying, "Well, first of all, I will one hundred percent respect and support whatever decision you make, and your health and sanity comes before the SRU, but if you do decide to leave, the SRU is going to lose one hell of a team member, and I speak for a lot of people when I say that."

Sam shook his head—or rather, tried, but only managed a small movement, and even that small movement caused him to hiss and forced him to shut his eyes as pain skittered up his spine, burrowing deep into the side of his head and the muscles of his neck. He breathed in and out for a moment, before carefully reopening his eyes in order to dismiss shakily, "You can't be speaking for that many."

Jack was halfway out of his seat, as if he'd risen at Sam's distress, but then didn't know what to do or didn't want to overstep. When Sam reopened his eyes, though, the other man sat slowly back down. "You'd be surprised," he countered. "I can't tell you how many guys are lining up to visit you to show their respect and support. I fought them off and jumped to the head of the line because I claimed rights having been a member of Team One briefly, but it was a hard-fought battle."

This information surprised Sam, and he managed a small smile, appreciative of what the other man was trying to do. "Thanks for saying that."

"Of course." The other man paused, before asking, "think there's any chance I could convince you just to switch teams?" His eyes flicked away from Sam again, across the room. "You'd bring an entirely new skillset to our team, and get the opportunity to join a team that truly appreciates you."

Sam paused for a moment, completely surprised by the offer. He had not expected such a gesture, one that seemed genuine and not made out of pity. He thought carefully about his answer, letting a comfortable silence stretch between them as he pondered and Jack sat back and waited patiently. "I appreciate the offer," he started slowly, "and I haven't made up my mind yet, but I think that if I do decide to leave, it will be leaving the SRU period, not just switching teams."

"So, you're still thinking about it? Leaving I mean," the other man clarified. "Haven't made up your mind yet?"

And there it was again, Jack's eyes flicked across the room when he said something that was clearly addressed to Sam, and yet his gaze indicated that his attention was also elsewhere. Sam knew under normal circumstances that he would immediately pick up on the cue and understand what was going on, but right now, every time he thought he had it pinned down, it slipped out from his grasp. There were so many different things he could blame—fatigue, pain killers, the pain the pain killers weren't killing…

"I guess so," he finally replied, frustrated when the explanation once again escaped him.

"Uh huh, well, like I said, I'll support you all the way, whichever you choose, for whatever it's worth—which may not be much since I know you don't know me all that well. That being said, I'll be honest: I hope you'll consider my offer a little more, but more than that, I really hope you don't go. If you do, though, I hope we can still make good on our deal of hanging out once in a while, so long as no peril is involved."

"I would like that," Sam told him earnestly, touched by the other man's kindness.

"Well, I'll leave you to rest. Just, you don't have to listen to me of course, but just don't make your decision yet. Please. There may yet be some things that come out that changes your mind."

There. Right there, Jack's eyes once again flicked away, and Sam finally realized they were flicking towards the doorway. Or more likely, towards someone standing in the doorway. And it finally clicked that Jack had been deliberately making eye contact with the person who had been hovering in the doorway—which was conveniently out of Sam's field of view—all throughout this conversation. Ah, damn.

The realization must have shown on his face because Jack half grimaced and half smiled, before rising and saying, "Sorry about that, that wasn't particularly fair of me, but I'm hoping it will do some good in the long run. And Sam, I meant every word I said."

And he left. Which left Sam still stuck staring at the seam between the outer wall and the ceiling, unable—or perhaps now unwilling—to turn his head towards the door in order to see who Jack had been challenging throughout the conversation. Thinking back to when in the conversation Jack looked at the person, he thought he had a pretty good idea of who the person might be, and debated whether or not to offer the person an olive branch and invite them in; as the person had not yet entered the room, despite Jack having left several minutes ago. He considered it, but decided against it. If the person wasn't ready to talk to him, he wasn't going to force the issue and make them talk before they were ready. He was therefore content to just wait it out. And who knew, perhaps if he got lucky, he might fall asleep before the person struck up the nerve to enter. Though he knew that wasn't really a good thing, he didn't want to run from this conversation, he just… didn't know what he wanted.

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A.N. I hope you all enjoyed! Thank you for sticking with! Until next time!