Part IX
Chapter 1
Jack hadn't known a human body could be hooked up to so many tubes or machines. He'd spent enough time in ICU's lately to recognize the beeps the gadgets made, although there were new ones he'd never before heard. He felt relaxed, without pain, but he only opened his eyes when he heard the word "transplant."
"Well, Mr. Bauer. It's nice to meet you," the man leaning over him said. "You've been through quite a lot, but it seems you're going to be with us a lot longer. You've had a heart transplant, and everything's going very well. In a few weeks you'll be out of here, and from what I've heard we'll have to tie you down to get you to follow our instructions. I'm Dr. Levin, by the way. The cardiac surgeon. I'll be glad to answer your questions, but I told your daughter she could have a few minutes with you."
The doctor smiled as he saw the look on Jack's face. "Most people know they're going to have a transplant, so I know this is a surprise and it's something you'll have to get used to, but you're going to be fine."
As the doctor turned away Jack saw Kim walking towards him. "Dad," she said softly. "Oh, Dad."
Jack weakly raised his hand and tried to touch her face, but he couldn't quite manage it. Nevertheless he whispered, "I'm fine, Baby. I'm going to be fine." The surprise and relief in his voice were evident.
Kim leaned over and gently kissed his head, trying to avoid the tubes and wires.
"Dad, we were so frightened," she said. "We heard what you did at the market. You just can't let it go, can you?"
She saw the hurt look on his face and was sorry that her voice seemed so scolding. "Oh, Daddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded. You're wonderful. It's just that you're never good to yourself."
"I'll be good," he whispered, and he tried to smile but he was too weak. But Kim saw the crinkle around his eyes and knew what he meant.
"I'm sorry, but he has to rest," said Dr. Levin. "I'll be out to talk to you in a few minutes, but first I think your father has some questions."
Jack followed Kim with his eyes, glad that he would have more time with her. He remembered how he had felt in the store, and knew he hadn't meant it. He wanted to live.
Chapter 2
After a few days Jack was allowed to sit up, and after a few more he could walk to a chair. The doctors said they were very pleased with his progress, which they attributed to his otherwise surprisingly excellent physical condition as well as good, old-fashioned determination. When Jack told this to Kim, she laughed. "I think they mean stubbornness, but they're too polite to say it. But we know better, don't we, Dad?"
Jack smiled at her, enjoying the way he felt, experiencing no heart pain for the first time in years. His chest hurt like hell, of course, for they had had to crack his ribs to do the operation, but the angina was gone. After a few days he worked up the courage to ask the doctor whose heart he'd been given.
"It was a young man, on a motorcycle. There's a reason we doctors call them 'death-cycles'. Maybe some day they'll ban the damn things."
Jack thought with gratitude of the man's family, who had selflessly donated his heart. Without them, he knew, he'd be dead. "How old was he?" he asked. "Did he have a family?"
"He was twenty-three," the doctor replied. "He was unmarried, he didn't have any kids." Dr. Levin gave a small smile. "At least not any his family knew of." He paused. "His parents were very generous. They gave the gift of life."
Jack was silent as he thought of their sacrifice. The doctor said, "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? I mean, you saved so many lives. Oh, yeah, we know all about you," the doctor continued when he saw Jack's look. "You won't be chasing any more terrorists, Jack. But for once it was someone else who saved you."
Jack was helped back into bed and quickly fell asleep. The thought of chasing terrorists filled his mind.
Chapter 3
"Dammit!" he yelled at his classmates. "Wait up!"
He was down on the trail, face down, really, and he was humiliated. He was always in the lead on their morning run, always the first in the weight room, always the natural leader. This time, though, one of the men had pulled him down by grabbing his belt from behind, and Jack couldn't tell who it was, for looking from the ground up in the dust he could only see their boots.
He could hear them laughing as they continued down the trail, turning around to grin at him as they jogged in place while he tried to stand and wipe some of the dirt from his face. Catching up was impossible, he knew, for while he was the best he wasn't all that much better than the rest. He'd be damned if he'd turn back, though; while they hadn't even passed the half-way point he was going to finish the run anyway. That was before he stepped on his left foot.
Jack went down again, cursing more as he impatiently pulled off his boot, realizing as he did so that it was not the smartest thing he could have done. His ankle was already starting to swell, and he knew he couldn't finish the run. I can't even walk, he cursed angrily. Damn them!
I'll be damned if I'm just going to sit here, he thought, but he didn't know what else he could do. He couldn't even stand from all-fours, he couldn't put enough weight on his foot to accomplish that. He decided that until they missed him he would plot his revenge. After another half hour, during which he'd managed to crawl out of the Georgia sun under a tree, a Jeep pulled up. "Aw, poor little Bauer, didja hurt yourself? Do you need a band-aid?" Fox, the man on the bottom part of his bunkbed and his nemesis, crooned to him from the truck. "Does big bad Jacky-wacky want his mommy?"
Jack was gratified when the rock he threw got Fox on the shoulder. "Ow!" the man said involuntarily, for any show of weakness in the group only brought derision. "No rocks, Bauer! No weapons! You know the rules!"
"If you think that pebble's a weapon, Fox, you should quit the group!" Jack yelled at him. "You should anyway. You're a wuss. Now help me into the Jeep."
"Get yourself over here, Bauer," Fox said. "The Cap'n said I had to go get ya, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna carry you."
"Fox, you ashole, you're the one who pulled me down. You broke my ankle, you fcking moron. I can't hop up the damn hill. So get you're as over here and give me a hand!"
Fox mumbled to himself as he got out of the Jeep, the only words audible to Jack being "fcker," and "bstard."
"Same to you, Fox," Jack said as he half-climbed, was half-tossed-in by Fox. "So's your mother."
The men traded insults as Fox drove Jack to the hospital. One of the orderlies roughly hauled him out of the Jeep and none-too-gently dropped him in a wheelchair. "Oh, girl, how'd you get hurt?" he asked snidely. There was no sympathy at this training base. Any man who needed it, secretly wanted it, even, was in the wrong place. It might as well have been called Camp Testosterone. Only the macho need apply.
The x-ray showed a fracture, and Jack was not happy as the doctor applied a cast. "You're out of it for six weeks, Bauer," he said, and Jack cursed some more. "That fcker!" he said. "That bstard knocked me out of training. I'll have to start all over!"
"Yeah, well, that's the way life goes," the doctor said, "suck it up." Jack wondered what medical school he'd attended. He must have missed the class on bedside manner.
Jack continued to attend the classroom instruction with the rest of his team, but that didn't change things. He couldn't do the weapons training, the physical conditioning, the scuba diving, the staged stealth operations. He couldn't do a damned thing, so far as he was concerned. The whole God-damned thing was a waste. He was a wash-out.
He aced all the classroom work, of course, and his instructors knew he was worth another go-round, but Jack's frustration just grew. He'd left the 'regular' army to join the Special Forces, which he'd thought would be a piece of cake after basic training, but he was surprised to see that it was anything but. Some of the physical things were the same, sure, but the tactics, the planning, were totally different, even the more grueling physical training. He needed to develop a different mind-set, and he wondered if it would have been easier if he hadn't been in the regular army first, but you didn't get picked for Special Forces that way. Some of the others were almost at his level. But not better, he reassured himself. Not better.
He was at the 'graduation' party his classmates had in the local bar, where the macho theme still prevailed. The men seemed to equate ability to hold alcohol with prowess, which Jack thought was bullsht, especially when it came to mental ability. He was surprised that these men, who had been specially selected for covert training, had such Neanderthal beliefs. Still, Jack acknowledged that they had to have sufficient skills to have been selected, as he was. And they had managed to finish the training. He hadn't.
He was dejected when his class graduated and he had to join the succeeding group, but he had no choice. He believed in the work they would do, and he was determined to finish the training.
Chapter 4
He had three weeks of physical therapy after the cast was finally removed and the doctors pronounced him fit to resume the course. Once again he became the leader, not just in the classroom but in the physical challenges presented, and he was quickly identified by the commanding officers as a man who would be one of their best. Jack was marked for special things after his 'class' graduated, and he was pleased that he had succeeded to such a degree that a lot was expected of him. If only he had known.
His marksmanship was unmatched, as were his tactical abilities and leadership. He was thrilled when he was immediately assigned to missions, while most of his fellow trainees were initially sent to for further training that Jack had been able to bypass, their senior officers believing that they needed further seasoning before they were sent into the field.
His first mission had gone as smoothly as possible at first, a stealth insertion into Afghanistan to rescue a downed pilot. It was Jack's first nighttime jump other than the ones he'd had in training, but he had faced it matter-of-factly, as part of the job, and he'd felt no fear as he jumped from the plane into the darkness. He landed smoothly, as smoothly as the men in the squad who had more experience, and he hurriedly buried his 'chute, as he'd been taught. The captain in charge of the mission divided them, as Jack expected from the pre-mission briefing. Jack's group headed towards a mountain where the pilot's beacon had come from, while the other group watched their backs, ready to head off any rebels who'd spotted their landing.
While the U.S. was officially supporting the Afghanis against the Russians, the Afghanis didn't appreciate the help they were receiving, so they didn't always support the Americans. They considered them almost as bad as the invaders from the U.S.S.R., and took every opportunity to kill as many Americans as they could. That was why the pilot of the reconaissance plane was in danger, and why Jack's squad had been sent to rescue him.
The mission wasn't without risk, of course, and Jack's group came under fire from men hidden further up the mountain. They fell into their directed positions, Jack armed with a rifle, for his marksmanship was unmatched by others in the group, and others manned mortar launchers. Jack and the other rifleman took out the rebels and his squad quickly located the pilot, who had suffered a broken leg and fractured ribs when he landed hard after bailing out of his plane, which had been shot down by a missile. The back-up group held off the rebels while Jack's squad carried the pilot out of the forest where he'd managed to hide himself, and they made it to the extraction point without casualties. The helicopter assigned to lift them out arrived just on time, and no one was hit when the rebels tried to prevent them from boarding. The gunners on the chopper finished off the men who fired to disable the 'copter as they lifted off and made it out of harm's way.
Jack received his first commendation for that mission, for bravery under fire, for his commanders had noticed how coolly and professionally he had handled himself as a rookie in the Special Forces. Because of his bravery he was soon assigned to further operations, and the decorations soon racked up. His promotion to first lieutenant from second followed.
That proved tough for him, for he was promoted ahead of other, more senior men in his squad, but even they realized that it was appropriate. He was singular, and they trusted him to lead them on future missions.
Jack's chief problem was Fox, who had been assigned to his squad as a second lieutenant, one rank under Jack. Fox chafed at this and gave Jack a hard time whenever he could, without actually stepping over the bounds to insubordination. Jack wrestled with Fox's attitude but he managed to keep his anger in check, knowing from his increasing maturity and experience that letting his temper get the best of him would not only jeopardize his career, but the safety of his men.
Jack was included in planning missions after his promotion, and his ability to see things that others missed, as well as his continued bravery and coolness in tough situations was further recognized, and he was given ever more challenging - and dangerous - assignments.
Most of his missions went smoothly, at least compared with what most Special Forces' were, until his first insertion into Kosovo. Initially it was what the men thought of as a 'piece of cake,' but the forces against them had been grossly underestimated by military intelligence, and Jack's squad was soon overrun. Jack was hit in the shoulder and thigh and he was losing a lot of blood, but he managed to drag one of his wounded men - Fox - to the chopper and save his life. The 'copter came under fire, and despite his wounds Jack manned a machine gun to hold off the attackers, enabling the chopper to take off. His commanding general came to the hospital to personally award Jack the Silver Star for conspicuous bravery. Had he not been in Special Forces he would have received the Medal of Honor, but Special Forces protected the identities of its men, and Medal of Honor recipients were always identified to the public.
Jack was slightly embarrassed by the medal, and protested that others in the squad had acted at least as bravely as he, but the generals wouldn't hear of it. They recognized Jack's extraordinary actions, and so too did the men under his command. But the incident marked the beginning of his tremendous mistrust of military intelligence, as well as civilian.
Fox wasn't appreciate of Jack saving him - his resentment seemed to grow. Jack didn't want thanks, but he couldn't fathom Fox's reaction. Jack knew he had been promoted ahead of him, still, they were professionals, members of the most elite unit the army had, and Fox wasn't acting like a professional. Jack was afraid to take him on another mission, but his concern proved irrelevant.
Jack's injuries were deemed by the officers in charge of Special Forces to be serious enough to make his continued participation in stealth operations inappropriate. Jack soon chafed at his desk assignment, and considered other options. When he was approached by CTU, he was ready for the change.
Teri had never been happy about Jack's transfer to Special Forces, in fact she had been scared to death when she had learned what Special Forces did; her fear was buttressed by Jack's injuries, so she was relieved when he decided to join CTU. She was under the belief that it would be far less dangerous, and Jack didn't try to disabuse her of the idea. It wasn't totally deliberate on his part, for although he hoped to have an active role there, he hadn't realized just how active it would be. In later years he occasionally wondered whether he would have gone to CTU had he known; after all, he had a wife and child to worry about, and he'd understood Teri's worry each time he'd gone on a mission for Special Forces. Nevertheless, the challenge those missions had presented had overcome his consideration for Teri's feelings, something which he later recognized was total selfishness and insensitivity.
After they discussed it (something he'd barely done with her before transferring to Special Forces), Teri had agreed that CTU was a good idea, and Jack put in his papers to resign from Special Forces, but he was told that he'd be in the reserves until he was fifty. At age twenty-six that seemed forever away; it was almost half of the life he'd already lived, although that had gone faster than he'd ever imagined. He was a husband and a father, and Kim was already six, but he couldn't imagine himself as a fifty year old; that seemed like another lifetime away. He had no choice but to agree, but he thought it unlikely he would ever be re-activated; there was no shortage of men eager to join the Special Forces.
When he signed the papers to join CTU he felt equally eager and relieved; Teri would be happy, and he was entering a new phase of his life that promised to be challenging and rewarding. CTU intended to assign Jack to planning and supervising operations, so his Special Forces injuries were deemed irrelevant. Jack knew this and accepted it, although the thought of sitting at a desk for the rest of his life wasn't something he liked. Nevertheless, he was sure that joining CTU was the right decision for the Bauer family.
Chapter 5
Jack's training as a new agent for CTU was abbreviated, for the Powers That Be deemed his Special Forces experience ample for the requirements of CTU. After introduction to the methods and protocols of the agency he began his new life.
Jack was assigned to the El Paso office of CTU in Texas, where the PTB believed that terrorists were attempting to cross the border from Mexico, although they had no knowledge that any plots were actually being planned there. The reasoning was that the 'bad guys' were concentrating on bringing their compatriots in through there, but Jack thought they wouldn't want to call attention to themselves by running their operations from there, too, which might red-flag their stealth immigration plans. So Jack worked to bring these activities to an end, while growing impatient at what he thought was work that immigration agents could as effectively deal with.
Apparently this belief was shared by others, supervisors who controlled assignments, and Jack was sent to Los Angeles, the second-largest city in the US, with the second-largest port in the country, one that was especially vulnerable to terrorists. He soon settled into the CTU office, where his abilities were further identified. He at first simply assisted in planning and supervising field ops, as he'd been told he would, and was not included in the actual missions themselves. Although he was the junior man in his department this didn't stop him from suggesting better ways to carry out a mission, something that was not appreciated by most of his commanders, who were way senior to this wet-behind-the-ears upstart. However, they couldn't deny that Jack's recommendations were valid, and despite the protests of many of his higher-ups, motivated partly by jealousy of this new kid on the block, he was eventually made the second-in-command for operations in his office.
Chapter 6
Richard Walsh was in charge of operations in the LA office, and he was one of the very few to quickly recognize Jack's abilities. Walsh was one of the only supervisors at CTU who did not let his ego interfere with his goals, and he valued Jack's growing expertise. This was never more evident than in Operation Pennant.
Walsh had named the mission for its timing, which coincided with the World Series. The operation was to prevent terrorists from interfering with the upcoming presidential election, and he knew that Jack's involvement would be invaluable. The CTU docs had thoroughly examined Jack, and they told Walsh that Jack could actually participate in field ops. Teri was upset, of course, but Jack was thrilled. The idea, the fact that he would get out from behind a desk was something he was eager to do.
Both presidential candidates had identified California as the most important state in their quest for victory, and both believed that the vote there would determine the outcome. Confirmed intelligence unequivocally showed that coordinated bombings were planned for urban polling places around the state, at the prime evening times when most voters would be at the polls, not only disrupting the voting and discouraging others from casting their votes, but destroying ballots that had already been cast. The result would throw the country into chaos, because by law elections could not be held after the designated date. Without California, neither candidate could win a majority in the electoral college, and the election would be thrown into the House of Representatives for decision, where the parties were evenly divided. Law prevented the incumbent from continuing in office after Inauguration Day, so the country would have no President. The outcome would be chaos.
Jack, together with Walsh, tracked the conspirators to locations in LA, by far California's most populous city, and planned coordinated raids to capture the plotters. The day before the election Jack and Walsh led teams in Los Angeles to get the leaders of the plot. The primary conspirators had hidden themselves on a Libyan ship in the port where they rigged explosives to use in their attacks on the polling places, and to keep anyone from sneaking on board. They also posted look-outs who could, from the position of the ship, see enough of the harbor to spot anyone approaching it.
Walsh broke up his men into groups, assigning men to raid the locations around LA where they had hidden themselves before planting the explosives, and had put Jack in command of a team that would actually board the ship. Walsh and his team would try to take down the look-outs who could alert the men on board. Jack's men had to disarm the explosives that the terrorists had not only rigged around the ship but which they were preparing to place at the polls.
Jack, of course, was the first man to board the ship, climbing up a web ladder after his men managed to attached it over the side by shooting anchoring hooks over the sides to catch the railing. As he crawled onto the deck he shot two men nearby with double-taps to each man's head. He motioned for the rest of his men to follow.
Walsh's team in the meantime had managed to eliminate the look-outs whose positions had been pinpointed by intel, supplemented by satellite. Because of this his part of the operation went off more quickly and smoothly than had been anticipated, and Walsh and his men headed for the ship to back up Jack and his agents. They were able to board using the gangway, thanks to Jack's team which had killed the terrorists on the deck, and Walsh went in search of Jack. He had headed for the engine room where he knew Jack would be because it was the farthest and best-protected place on the ship, and thus the easiest to defend. Jack was accompanied by five agents, while the others on his team searched the rest of the ship.
Jack's men were quickly pinned down by men hiding in the maze of the compartment, concealed behind the massive turbines and other machinery there. With his men unable to reach him Jack was alone, not knowing where the other conspirators were located. He was hit in the shoulder by a ricochet, and he fell back behind a tank. He knew that a misplaced shot would blow up the fuel stored there, as well as the explosives stored there for placement at the polling places, and he was helpless to proceed. Trying to reach the explosives would expose him to the fire of the plotters hidden there. He was pinned down, with no way out.
Suddenly shots came from another direction, precision shots which nailed the men hidden in the warren of equipment. Walsh had taken down the men who encircled Jack. Despite the pain and blood flowing from his wound Jack forced himself to grab the semi-machine gun he had dropped when he was hit, and he helped Walsh search the rest of the compartment and secure the explosives the terrorists had hidden.
When additional agents arrived and made sure the terrorists were all dead, Walsh went straight to Jack and pressed on his wound to staunch the bleeding while he called for medical assistance. The bullet had hit a major artery, and Jack was fast losing blood. Walsh kept Jack alive until EMT's arrived, who quickly brought Jack to the deck and into the waiting ambulance. The doctors who rushed Jack into surgery and removed the bullet gave Jack transfusions to replace the blood loss, and after several days in the Intensive Care Unit they told Teri that Jack would live. Her tears brought home to Jack just how lucky he had been, and how much he owed to Walsh. He had saved his life. It was something he would never forget, along with the terror he had caused his wife. But despite her fears his injury brought home to Jack how important his work was, for the election went off as planned, and the nation was spared the chaos that would otherwise have resulted.
Walsh came to see Jack in the ICU, but the heavy sedation Jack had been given prevented him from communicating with his best agent. Walsh returned to Jack's bedside after he was moved from the ICU to a step-down unit, and Jack expressed his fervent appreciation to the man who had saved his life. Walsh waved off his thanks, telling Jack that he was the hero, for he had taken out the terrorists and prevented them from carrying out their plot. Nevertheless, Jack knew that he owed Walsh his life, and although he hoped he would never have to return the favor, he resolved that if the need ever arose, he would be there for him, no matter the risk or cost to himself.
As the result of the success of the mission Walsh was promoted to head the LA office, and Jack took his place as head of ops. Jack and Walsh had developed great respect for each other, and this caused them to be so able to work together that their future operations went off more smoothly and effectively than usually happened. Along with this respect came a genuine friendship, one of the few Jack enjoyed.
Operation Pennant was a great success, and it helped contribute to agency recognition that Jack was a man who could be counted on. Jack Bauer's reputation as a man who got results was begun.
Chapter 7
Walsh's later promotion to Division had led to Jack's being made head of the LA office, but they continued to work closely together. Their respect for each other's abilities had deepened their personal friendship, and Jack never forgot his personal debt to Walsh. That was why the dream had seemed very real to Jack, and Walsh's death, which Jack had tried so hard to block from his memory, he still considered one of the greatest failures of his life. Knowing that he had been unable to save the man to whom he owed his own life was something for which he never had, and never would, be able to forgive himself. He was all too aware, from the introspection his memoirs had started, that such regrets accomplished nothing, and it brought home to him that he had to let go of such feelings. He knew that Walsh hadn't blamed him, had even told him that he wasn't beholden to him, and because of his sense of realism Jack knew that Walsh would never have faulted him. But Jack knew better: if he had not allowed Walsh to expose himself at the garage in order to pass the key card to him, Walsh would be alive. Jack had hidden himself out of the range of fire, while he had left Walsh in full view of the shooters. Walsh had deserved better; Jack had owed him far more, and he had betrayed his friend by not deflecting the danger. Jack was the one who should be dead; he should have somehow shielded Walsh and still gotten the card from him. That this couldn't have been done, wouldn't have worked, Jack couldn't accept. He believed, despite the logic of the situation, that he could have, should have found a way to rescue his own savior, while still securing the intel so vital to accomplishing the mission. Nothing, all the logic and arguments in the world, would convince him otherwise.
The depression from reliving his past that fell on Jack from what he was convinced were his failures didn't help his recuperation, but Jack's innate strength pulled him through. His mind couldn't accept failure, and rejected anything that might otherwise make him give up. His will to live was his greatest strength, in all senses of the world, and it had always stood him in good stead, as it would now. He recalled how he had given up earlier and was ashamed. If there was one single thing he owed Walsh, it was that he never surrender his life without a fight with everything he had.
Chapter 8
Jack awoke with Kim standing over him, pleased that he was so less pale, and most importantly that the oxygen tube had been removed. Jack was breathing without assistance for the first time since he thwarted the robbery. He still had a long recuperation ahead, which the doctors had explained to Jack as well as to Kim, and while neither looked forward to it, they had different reasons. Kim knew that Jack was a terrible patient, never directly disobeying doctors' orders, but always chomping at the bit to move to the next level of activity. Jack, of course, hated all kinds of limits, and the fact, which he knew, that he would have to take things even more slowly didn't make it any more palatable.
He was still in too much pain to resist being chair-bound; the cutting of his breastbone to permit the doctors access to his heart would take a long time to heal: there was no rushing it, and he acknowledged that he couldn't yet walk. The realism that Jack had always clung to made him accept this, but it was with the grateful understanding that it would only be temporary. He had been greatly encouraged when the doctors told him that he would eventually be able to resume a normal, active life, with far more physical activity than had been the case before the transplant. He accepted that he would always need medication to keep his body from rejecting the new heart, but with the wireless laptop Kim had brought him Jack had read everything he could find on the internet about the after-effects of heart transplants, and this further brightened his spirits. Previous organ recipients had been able to resume participation in sports, and Jack was encouraged to see that he might once again work out and play tennis. The doctor had mentioned golf to him as the perfect sport for someone in his condition: the activity of long walks at a leisurely pace, with the occasional stroke thrown in from time to time, was perfect for his recuperation.
Jack had attempted golf a few times before, but because he was such a perfectionist at everything he found golf very frustrating. He knew that even pros had off days when they seemed almost unable to hit the ball, but Jack couldn't kid himself; he didn't have enough good days to consider one off. He agreed to give it another try, though, and found that he had friends, men he had played tennis with, who loved golf. Three or four hours on the course followed by a beer at the '19th' hole wouldn't be such a bad idea. Maybe some of the men had even developed and interest in politics. And it certainly would be an opportunity to make new friends.
As Jack gratefully got back into bed he lay against the pillows still somewhat discouraged. He didn't think just getting out of a chair could be so enervating. But he stopped himself from having negative thoughts. I'm alive, he said to himself. I barely made it, but I'm alive. It may take a few months to get back, but at least I'm here. I have Kim and the kids and now little Jack, and I'll be around to see him grow. He felt the tears in his eyes. I'm very, very lucky, he reminded himself. I made it. Again.
