Part X

Chapter 1

His brisk walks had progressed to slow runs, more like trots really, he thought of them, but he was closer to his old pace than he'd ever thought he'd get. He'd resumed his laps in the pool and although he had not yet been cleared for weight lifting or tennis he was content with that exercise, at least for the short-term. He knew he had been granted the gift of life and he would be forever grateful.

The differences in his condition were recognizable to all. There was not only a spring in his step but a look on his face that showed his new-found optimism as well as his vastly-improved physical condition. The reduced limitations imposed by his body gave him a whole new outlook not only on life itself but on his enjoyment of it, and he indeed took up golf as the doctor had advised, finding that he enjoyed it despite the frustration of frequently losing his ball in the rough. After first using a motorized cart he progressed to walking the course, using a caddy to carry his bag, although at first he still found the walk tiring. He was pleased to see that the other men his age also didn't carry their own clubs, and he didn't blame it on his physical condition; he was glad to attribute it to his age, which he now found less disturbing. He had recognized the only alternative to aging, and was glad he had been spared it. He was ready, actually willing, to acknowledge that he was sixty-eight, and that attaining what he now thought of as 'old age' wasn't so bad, after all. A number of his acquaintances had already died, many of heart failure, and it contributed to his feeling of gratitude for what he was willing to call his new 'lease on life,' as corny as he found the saying.

He again reveled in his family, spending as much time as he could with 'little Jack,' more pleased than he'd thought at the name of the baby, recognizing it as the tribute to him that it was. He had such a close relationship with his own grandchildren that Melanie gladly, without prompting, had named her first-born after her grandfather. She and Lee had delayed the baby's Christening in the hope that his namesake could attend, and Jack was given the honor of holding the baby throughout the ceremony. He cried throughout, holding the great-grandchild he never thought he'd see, not embarrassed by his tears but thrilled to be there. He hoped that he could actively be a part of the baby's life, as he had been with Kim's own children, and for the first time he thought it could be a reality.

Chapter 2

He resumed his memoirs for the first time in ages, and as he sat before his computer he let his mind wander back to his college days, when he'd first met Teri. He'd been at a party, this one held at a sorority house that was much cleaner than the 'frat' house, and he'd wandered into the kitchen where the booze was set out to get a rum and Coke. The party was to celebrate first semester finals, and Jack, who'd just pledged his fraternity, was glad that for once he was treated as a full member, for the night not required to do most of the 'scut' work the pledges ordinarily had to do for the 'full' brothers.

The kegs were empty, and getting refills was the type of thing ordinarily assigned to the pledges, but one of the more sober brothers was convinced by the pledges, who were only 18 or 19, that they were too young to buy beer. Rather than go out themselves the brothers sent the younger boys out for ice, and the fraternity and sorority members switched to hard liquor. After the run for ice Jack and another pledge refilled the coolers, and Jack decided that he, too, could have a real drink. The "Greeks" didn't enforce the drinking age, even if they'd been sober enough to do so, and Jack took advantage of the opportunity to have hard liquor. But when he entered the kitchen he saw a girl refilling the trail mix that was the only snack that hadn't already been either devoured or spilled all over the floor. Jack wasn't so drunk that he didn't realize how beautiful she was. Tall and slender, her shoulder length hair accenting her cheekbones, Jack was immediately attracted to her. She was almost his height, and he instinctively knew that she was special, different from the other girls who were even drunker than he; she seemed to be the only one who hadn't over-indulged. She poured the crackers into bowls with a steady hand, a fact that penetrated Jack's semi-drunken haze, and she had an air of dignity as she did so. This realization sobered Jack, and he went nearer to her, determinedly walking steadily.

Careful not to slur his words, for he realized that this girl would be repulsed by drunkenness, he introduced himself to her, and carefully remembered her name. She was, in fact, pleased to see that he didn't appear drunk, although he definitely smelled of beer and rum. Nevertheless she too felt attracted to this blonde, athletic boy, not one with bulging muscles and 'six-pack abs,' the kind who seemed so prevalent on campus. He struck her as the type who spent more time in the library than the gym, someone who she somehow knew liked sports while still taking his studies seriously; not a 'jock.' She didn't know how she knew this, they'd exchanged only enough words to introduce themselves, but he was still someone she thought she'd like to know better.

After filling the snack bowls she took brownies from the oven, careful not to burn herself, for she too had had a few beers, but not enough to affect her faculties. She'd found that sugar helped prevent, or at least lessen the severity of hang-overs, and brownies were perfect for that. The smell helped Jack to sober up, for it revived memories of days when liquor had been unthinkable to him, when he'd been in his mother's kitchen and waited impatiently until the brownies were cool enough to cut. He gladly accepted a brownie from Teri when she cut them, still warm, and downed a glass of milk as he ate it. He immediately headed to the bathroom, barely making it in time before he threw up, for he was drunk enough to forget that milk and booze don't mix. He sheepishly returned to the kitchen, where Teri, amused, had waited for him.

Despite his alcohol consumption and nauseated feeling he managed to have a semi-lucid conversation with her and she gave him her telephone number, wondering right afterwards if she'd been foolish to act solely on instinct. She told herself she could always have her roommate run interference and tell him she was unavailable if she changed her mind about seeing him again. But somehow she didn't think she would.

A little later Jack said goodnight and headed back to his dorm, for pledges weren't allowed to live in the fraternity house, and he sprawled on his bed before vomiting into his garbage pail. He moaned as he lay down again, his mind not working well enough to yet think what a fool he'd made of himself to the spectacular girl he'd just met. After throwing up again, the muscles of his empty stomach protesting, he fell asleep.

The monster headache that awoke him the next morning made him unable to clearly recall his experiences of the previous night, and it wasn't until he found the barely-legible phone number in his jeans pocket that he realized that he'd actually met a beautiful girl at the party. A cold shower helped him awaken, and aspirin and tomato juice enabled him to stand straight. He marveled that he hadn't fallen on his head in the shower, and he was surprised that he was able to keep the aspirin and juice down. Another shower, where this time he remembered to use soap and shampoo, further cleared his head, and he then laid it on his desk as he tried to recall what he'd said to the girl. Teri, that was her name. Teri. He liked the sound of it.

He knew he wasn't yet in any shape to call her, for he didn't know what sound his voice would make, recalling with shame and pain how he'd been sick to his stomach, and not only did he think his speech might be slurred, but that his strained vocal chords might make him squeak. He took more aspirin, forgetting that he'd already taken as much as recommended, and again collapsed on his bed.

Hours later he awoke and was pleased that his head had cleared a little. The embarrassment that he felt was matched by the thought that he had ruined any chances he had with Teri. He realized that there was an atrocious smell in his room which he tracked down to his trash pail, and he threw it down the dorm incinerator. It was beyond redemption, so he wouldn't even try to clean it. Replacing it was the only option if he ever wanted to make his room livable.

His roommate had gone home for the weekend, so Jack threw the windows open before he went to the college convenience store and bought disinfectant cleaner that promised a fresh, clean scent. He remembered to buy a new trash pail and sponges and returned to his room to find that he hadn't entirely made it to his old pail and stripped the sheets and pillowcase and threw them into the washer, adding twice the recommended amount of bleach along with detergent.

He set to cleaning the room, and before long the smell of the cleanser overwhelmed him. He hadn't thought it possible but he vomited again, ruining another trash pail, thinking thankfully that he hadn't missed this time, until he realized with chagrin that his jeans were now coated. His pants, and the new pail, also went into the incinerator chute, and Jack found himself standing in the hallway of the coed dorm, dressed only in his 'tighty whities,' prompting giggles from the girls who passed by. He hurried back to his room, bright red, and pulled on the only other jeans he owned, along with a t-shirt. Shoes, sneakers, didn't occur to him, and he fell onto his bare mattress and passed out again.

Two hours of sleep seemed to be all he needed, and he knew as he got up that his hangover had passed. He remembered that he had to move his bedding from the washer to the dryer, and when he got to the laundry room he was gratified to see that his wash hadn't been thrown onto the floor as was so often the case when clothes weren't removed promptly enough by whoever wanted to use the machine next. As he stuffed quarters into the dryer he was chagrined to find as he transferred his sheets that his overuse of bleach had eaten holes in them. They're usable enough, he rationalized to himself. Maybe when I finish work I'll buy new ones.

The thought made him realize that he was five hours late for his job at the library, and he was afraid that it was enough to cost him his job. He hurried back to his room to finish dressing, thoughts of damaged wash instantly out of his mind, and ran to the library. He was relieved to see that his friend John, who worked the shift before him, had kindly stayed on, knowing from experience that fraternity parties were enough to make anyone absent the next day.

When Jack finally appeared John teased him about his pallor, which was a combination of pale and bright red, the whiteness attributable to his partying the night before, and the flush from his run to the library. As Jack clocked in he fervently thanked John, promising to return the favor whenever John wanted to skip a shift, six shifts if he wanted, and Jack went to work. He managed to focus enough to finish his job, although he found himself distracted by thoughts of Teri as he tried to shelve books.

Chapter 3

Back in his dorm after work, Jack decided he was finally in a condition to call the spectacular girl he had met the night before. As he dialed the number he found crumpled on the floor he hoped she'd forgotten his drunkenness, and when she answered he was thrilled to hear that she sounded pleased by his call.

"Hi, Teri," he said when she answered. "It's Jack Bauer. We met last night."

"Hi, Jack," she said, her voice sounding amused. "I remember. But I'm surprised you do."

"I want to apologize for that. I had too much to drink."

"I think I know that," she said, still bemused. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine. I had a tough morning," he said, surprised at his admission, "but I finished my shift, and I was wondering if we could get together later."

"What shift?" she asked, ducking his question.

"I work at the library," he said, hoping she'd appreciate that at least he sounded studious. "I supervise the other guys who work there." He also hoped that she would be impressed with the responsibility of his job. He was desperate to impress her; he hoped it would help make up for his juvenile behavior the night before.

"I'm surprised you were able to make it to work," she said, for some reason wanting to twist the knife she instinctively knew he had mentally stabbed himself with. "You seemed pretty out of it last night."

"Yeah, I had a tough time of it," he said, further surprised that he was admitting this. "I never did anything like that before," he offered, "and I'll never do it again." He felt like a child apologizing to his mother, feeling somehow that he needed her forgiveness.

"Oh, you don't have to explain yourself to me, Jack," she said, laughing. "I'm not your mother."

No, he realized, but he was tempted to ask her to be his girlfriend, and he managed to choke back the words just in time. "So, are you free tonight?" he was able to say instead. "Would you like to go to a movie?"

"Yes," she said, to his enormous delight. "What do you want to see?"

"I haven't gone in awhile, so I haven't seen much that's out there."

"How about 'Terms of Endearment'? I heard that it's really good. And I love Jack Nicholson."

"That sounds good. I'll check what time it starts, and call you back. Maybe we can get a pizza or something before."

"If you're up to it, sure," she said, for some reason still annoyed that he had gotten so drunk the night before. What reason do I have to do that? she asked herself. I have no claim on him. We just met. He can do whatever he wants. Why am I saying these things? She was as confused as he sounded.

"Call me back then. I'll be here for awhile. I'm studying for an exam on Monday." She wondered why she was now explaining herself to him. She'd never felt the need to do that with any other boy.

"Okay, I'll check and call you back. Talk to you later. 'Bye."

"'Bye, Jack."

He somehow felt disappointed as he hung up. He wanted to keep talking to her. He brightened at the thought that he would soon be spending time with her.

Chapter 4

He picked her up at her dorm promptly at 7, hoping that it wasn't too noticeable that he was wearing new jeans, a new shirt and new loafers. When he'd checked his closet he thought that his regular everyday clothes looked too grungy for his date, and his shoes had been ruined the night before. He'd rushed to the nearest mall before running back to his dorm to shower yet again and shave. Making a good appearance was very important to him that night, partly to make up for the night before, and partly because he knew that this classy girl would be aware of how he presented himself.

He knocked on her dorm door and she opened it promptly, dressed similarly to him, but wearing a sweater he realized was expensive. Her room was neat, he saw, and it matched his opinion of her as someone who took pride in her surroundings as well as her appearance. She introduced him to her roommate, Gail, who was dressed in a robe but wearing make-up, obviously preparing for her own date. They left right after, going straight to the movie, leaving them no time for pizza, but Jack hoped they could get something to eat afterwards.

He'd hurriedly cleaned his car, grabbing the crumpled papers and Burger King wrappers that had littered the floor, evidence of the sloppy life he usually led. He'd been chagrined to find ants in the soda cup under the seat, and he bought one of those air freshener trees to hang from the mirror to kill the smell of the stuff he used to get rid of the bugs. He hoped it was enough. He didn't want the car to smell of Raid.

As they got to the car he opened the door for Teri, doing it matter-of-factly, not with a flourish, and he closed it the same way. He had been brought up with excellent manners, and while he sensed that Teri was an independent girl he knew that it was appropriate to treat her with respect, and opening the door for her seemed fitting.

"We shouldn't have trouble getting tickets," he said, not knowing what else to say but desperate to start a conversation. "And there's plenty of parking near the theatre."

"I think so," she allowed, also at a loss at what to talk about. "I've been looking forward to seeing this."

"You said you love Jack Nicholson," he said. "What other pictures of his have you seen?"

"'Chinatown,' of course," she replied. And 'Five Easy Pieces.' I think he's a terrific actor."

"Yeah," he said, still not knowing what to say, and kicking himself for it.

"What's your major?" he asked, thinking this was a natural topic. "I'm majoring in English Lit."

"Graphic arts," she said.

"Oh," he said. "I have absolutely no artistic talent." Why did I say that? he asked himself. I don't want to sound dismissive, like I'm not interested in what she obviously likes.

"Some people don't," she allowed. "But I've always loved it."

"I'm taking art history next semester," he said, hoping to redeem himself. "I'm really ignorant about that stuff, and I think it'll be interesting."

"I love it," she responded. "It's so rich, and it really reflects the development of our culture. I'm taking it now, and I'm going to take all the classes they have in it."

Jack had actually intended to take the course only to satisfy some of his 'distribution' credits, the classes all students are required to take in different areas so they don't just specialize in their own majors, but he knew he couldn't tell Teri that. She guessed it, of course, for Jack certainly didn't seem like the artsy type, but she reminded herself that literature was a form of art, and she didn't want to be judgmental. People had different interests, and she wouldn't put Jack down because of it. Besides, English Lit showed sensitivity, and she sensed that he was a sensitive boy.

"Who's your favorite author?" she asked, wanting to switch the subject back to Jack. She wasn't comfortable talking about herself yet, and she was genuinely curious. She, too, loved literature, but art was her favorite.

"James Joyce," he replied. "I re-read his stuff all the time." That was really intelligent, he thought as soon as he said it. 'Stuff,' that sounds just like a lit major. I sound like a jerk.

"I like Jane Austen," Teri volunteered, realizing instantly that because Austen was not considered one of the major authors it certainly didn't make her sound like she was well-schooled in literature. But it was the first name that occurred to her. "I like the Brontes, too," she said, hoping to redeem herself.

"Wuthering Heights is a great book," Jack replied.

"Charlotte Bronte is very good," she responded. "Oh," she said, blushing. "That was Jane Bronte, wasn't it? Charlotte wrote 'Jane Eyre,' didn't she?" Jack sensed Teri's discomfort, and he certainly didn't want to embarrass her.

"Yeah, Charlotte wrote 'Jane,' and Emily wrote 'Wuthering.' It's kind of confusing," he said, hoping she wouldn't think he was being condescending. There was a silence in the car, and Jack wanted to kick himself. What difference did it make who wrote what? Why did I have to correct her? Why couldn't I have left it alone?

"The line is pretty long," Jack said as they approached the theater, glad to change the subject. "Why don't I let you out here while I park, and you can get the tickets?"

"Okay," she said, opening the door and getting out before Jack remembered that he should have opened the door for her. As she walked towards the box office he realized that he hadn't given her money for the tickets. Jesus, he thought. Could I be stupider?

He was glad when he found a parking spot and saw Teri standing next to the ticket-taker as he hurried into the lobby. "I didn't have time to give you money for the tickets," he offered lamely as he took out his wallet. "How much were they?"

"Don't worry about it," she responded. "You can pay for the popcorn."

"I really want to pay for the tickets," he said. "Please let me."

She looked amused as she said, "Eight dollars. But Jack, it really isn't necessary."

"I still want to, Teri. Please."

"Okay, Jack," she said, seeing that it was important to him. She took the money from him and they headed for the concession stand.

"Do you like butter on your popcorn?" he asked, surprised at how relieved he felt, but kicking himself for presuming that was what she wanted. Maybe she wanted candy instead. She'd said he could pay for the popcorn. But did she really want that? Gamely he continued, "And what kind of soda do you want?"

"Actually, I like extra butter. And a Coke, please."

Jack paid for the food and as he guided her into the theatre his hand automatically went to the center of her back. They found two seats on the aisle and settled in, each holding their soda with the popcorn between them. When they reached into the bag at the same time their hands touched, and Jack hoped that she felt the same sensation as he. Teri showed no reaction, but the brush of their hands together felt good to her.

They settled back into their seats, and after three previews they quickly became engrossed in the movie. Jack hadn't seen many Nicholson films before, but he soon understood why Teri liked them.

When it ended they both knew they'd have something to talk about, but they were sated on popcorn, so instead of pizza they decided on ice cream. They walked to the store, and as they stood on the line they discussed the movie, falling into an easy conversation. The film had broken the ice between them and they felt comfortable with each other. The earlier tension of the evening was gone. It had become fun.

Chapter 5

Jack was less hesitant the next time he called Teri, and not quite as shocked when she agreed to see him again. They went to a movie the next week-end, a comedy they had both heard good things about, and Jack again bought the tickets and the popcorn. Jack had again taken care when he shaved and dressed, wearing the same jeans that he carefully pressed with the iron he removed from its box for the first time since he'd started school, and a sweater he chose because it wasn't wrinkled. He checked himself in the car mirror before he went into Teri's dorm, pleased to see that his hair hadn't done its usual magic trick and stuck up in the back no matter how carefully he combed it down.

He paused and swallowed before he knocked on Teri's door, preparing what he would say and making sure that his voice would stay steady. He'd thought about this night all week, and he wanted it to go right. This girl had become very important to him in a very short time, and he didn't want to blow it. When she opened the door he wasn't aware that he drew in his breath. She looked lovely. The beige sweater she wore set off the light tan of her skin, as did her simple gold earrings. Her form-fitting but not tight jeans accentuated her slender body, lithe, a dancer's body, tall and graceful.

After greeting each other shyly Teri indicated that she was ready and again Jack's hand went to the middle of her back, gently guiding her into the hall and towards the elevator. They walked side by side, not talking, out of the building to his car, where he once again opened and closed the door for her before he got in and drove to the theatre. Neither knew what to say, and they both felt awkward.

"There's plenty of parking tonight," Jack said, relieved both that there was finally something to say and that he could park. "There," he said, as he pulled into a spot.

He got out of the car and walked to Teri's side where he opened her door and offered his hand to help her out. As their hands touched she looked up at him and smiled. They both felt their awkwardness end as they laughed together. Suddenly they felt better.

"We don't have to rush tonight," Jack said, relief evident in his voice. "There's not much of a line. I'm kind of surprised. Didn't this movie just open?"

"Yes," Teri replied. "And it got good reviews."

"We'll have to see for ourselves," Jack said, liking the idea. They wouldn't have to fight any crowds. They could take their time.

They still walked side by side as they crossed the street, but they were more relaxed, more comfortable. After Jack bought the tickets and they got their popcorn and drinks they again sat on the aisle. Slowly the theatre filled up.

They laughed themselves silly at the movie. They thought 'Tootsie' was one of the funniest they'd ever seen. Their hands kept touching in the popcorn bag, and this time neither pulled away as though they'd been burned. In fact, each seemed to take more time as they dipped into the bag. Their fingers brushed together more and more. They told themselves it was just accidental.

Chapter 6

They spoke frequently after that, and met for coffee in the student union when their schedules permitted. Teri insisted on paying for herself and Jack didn't protest. It was an odd arrangement, for Jack paid for whatever they did on their dates, while Teri paid for her coffee and whatever food she had during the day. Somehow it was comfortable for them both, not strange, and the pattern felt natural.

They went out the following three Saturday nights, and had as good a time as two people could as they really got to know each other. They went to a movie each time, and by the fourth date Jack felt comfortable enough to take Teri's hand. Teri willingly gave it, wondering what had taken Jack so long. She smiled to herself, recognizing his shyness, and she found it endearing. Most of the boys she had dated before that had been much more forward, a few insisting that she somehow 'owed' them a physical response. She'd never seen them again; not only did she not feel attracted to them, but she resented their belief that she was somehow obligated to them.

Jack was different, and she knew that not only was he shy, but that he respected her, and it meant a lot. She'd never known anyone like him, and he intrigued her. He'd told her of his life as an army 'brat,' and while her life had been nothing like that she didn't think their different upbringings posed any obstacles to their burgeoning relationship.

Teri told Jack how her life had been so different from his, growing up in the same house where her parents had lived before she was born. She'd never been uprooted, and her parents, her father an engineer and her mother a physician, had made sure their schedules enabled them to spend as much time with their children as they could. She'd always felt loved and important to her parents, as Jack had, and her older and younger brothers had always been supportive of her. She hadn't grown up with the 'middle child' personality as did so many others in that situation, and she was comfortable with her life.

She laughed about her lack of ability in math so engineering wasn't in her future, and she wasn't drawn to medicine, although her older brother had just been accepted to medical school and her younger brother, still in high school, also wanted to be a doctor. No one in the family knew where her artistic skills came from, and overall her family supported her choice of career, although her father continuously questioned the practicality of it.

When his father retired from the service Jack's parents had returned to Los Angeles and bought a house in Pasadena. They had considered San Diego with its near-perfect weather, but that was a Navy town and Mark was the consummate Army man, so San Diego was unthinkable. Jack had always thought of LA as his home although he'd spent very little of his youth there, and UCLA had been his first choice when he applied to college. His father had not seemed disappointed when Jack chose not to follow him into the military, and Jack hadn't expected him to. He'd always understood that his parents would leave the choice of school and career to him. The only question they posed to him was what he planned to do after graduation, when the only possible use for a degree in literature seemed to be to teach, something that Jack adamantly said he didn't want to do. Nevertheless, they accepted his choice of major, and trusted that he would figure out his future with the sensibility he'd always shown.

Jack hadn't reached his decision lightly. He knew of the pride and honor that come from a life in the military, and his grades were certainly good enough to get him into West Point or any of the other service academies. His father would be proud of him no matter what his decision, of that Jack was certain, and that alone instilled a feeling of pride in him. Jack had always been fascinated by fighter planes, and he was eager to learn to fly. He seriously considered going to the Air Force Academy, but somehow he knew that that life wasn't for him. If anything, he'd follow his father into the army. But was that what he really wanted to do? He didn't think he wanted to commit himself to a life in the military, and West Point would certainly head him in that direction. Life was too busy, and almost too full of opportunities. High school was a big time in his life. A time of big events, and big choices. He was glad he'd chosen UCLA. Otherwise, he never would have met Teri.

Chapter 7

His senior year in high school had been busy with the social life of a popular, good-looking teenager, and although he was too small and slight for the football team and too short to play basketball he excelled at baseball, and that made him popular with his classmates, especially the girls. He had a number of girlfriends, none at the same time, for even then Jack was monogamous by nature. His first sexual experience had been in his junior year with a girl he'd dated for five months, and he thought he'd gone into orbit without a plane. As gentle and responsible as always Jack had learned that pleasing a girl was as important as being pleased himself, and he never forgot their nights in the dunes at Malibu. His parting from the girl had been her idea, and he wasn't insulted; he was relieved that he hadn't been put in the position of hurting her by being the one to break it off. They had remained friends through the rest of high school, and that meant a great deal to Jack: he'd obviously treated this girl who was so special to him well.

Jack hadn't slept with all of the girls who'd followed; he didn't have 'one-night stands,' for he recognized that sex was something special, and he wasn't about to cheapen it by treating it that way. He did have additional sexual partners, of course; the experience was too wonderful to forego, and he was much too attractive for other girls not to want him, so when he had a girlfriend with whom he'd developed an emotional attachment, albeit not a permanent one, he passionately made love to her. At every opportunity.

He fervently believed that 'a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell,' so he never talked about his experiences, for not only would that cheapen those wonderful times, but he wasn't about to subject a girl to gossip. He remembered the anguish he'd caused that girl in Alaska; even though they'd been much too young for it to have been about sex, he wasn't about to cause anyone pain.

As he sat at his computer his mind wandered back to that first girl, and that first time. Sandra. A lively brunette, great mind, greater sense of humor, greatest body. He had to admit to himself that it was the last that had first attracted him. His raging teenage hormones had made sure of that. She played field hockey for the varsity team, and he stopped to watch her when baseball practice was over. She ran faster than he'd have thought, for she wasn't particularly tall, but she covered the field well, and with enthusiasm. Jack's shyness kept him from going over to her, but a friend who was also on the team saw Jack looking at Sandra, and gladly introduced them, but with a little malice. "Hey, Sandra, this is Jack. He's the one who's been staring at you!"

Jack wanted to fall into the proverbial hole, but unfortunately none was available. His blush extended to his blonde scalp as he quietly said hello, but Sandra seemed just as embarrassed. "Sorry, Jack," she said to him, her self-consciousness impossible to miss, and more than matched by his own. "It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Jack said almost inaudibly. He had no idea what else to say.

"Do you like field hockey?" Sandra asked, wanting to relieve his obvious pain. "Do you play any sports?"

"Baseball," Jack said gratefully. "I'm on the team."

"I've seen some of the games," she continued. "What position do you play?"

"Shortstop," Jack said, beginning to feel like his life hadn't actually ended. "Do you like baseball?" What an idiot, he thought to himself. She just said she watches the games. Great comeback, Bauer. Just great.

"I watch it with my dad sometimes. I'm an only child, and sometimes I think he'd rather have a son. We've gone to a lot of Dodgers games. We sit behind third base." Why am I going on like this? she wondered to herself. All he did was ask if I like baseball. What an idiot I am.

Jack was pleased to have something to talk to her about, because his friend had been right. He had been staring at Sandra. He'd desperately wanted to talk to her but he was too shy to have ever spoken without an introduction. Thanks, Alan, he thought, even if you did make me sound like an ashole.

"Want to get a soda?" he suddenly asked. He'd never been impetuous like this with a girl. But he didn't know what else to say, and he didn't want their conversation to end.

"Sure," she said. "But I have to shower and change."

Despite every effort he could make Jack felt himself blush again. The thought of her in the shower played in his mind. "I'll wait in the parking lot," he said. "I have a beige Chevy."

"I'll meet you there," Sandra said, all too aware of Jack's discomfort. "I won't be long."

As she turned towards the gym she giggled. Boys, she thought. They're so obvious.

Sandra didn't take longer than usual to get ready but to Jack it seemed like an eternity. He drove his car to the gym entrance and while he sat there he tried to think of things to say. He'd dated other girls, of course, but he'd never thought he was very good at it. He had always been glad that movies don't require conversation. They were the best dates, he felt, for you could always talk about them afterwards. After one bowling date he'd decided never to do it again. Other than 'good one!' there was very little to say but a lot of time to talk, and he knew it was a skill he didn't have and doubted he ever would. Girls made him incredibly self-conscious, and he envied the boys who always seemed to know how to talk to them. 'Them' was the way he thought, for girls were still foreign, alien even. So far as Jack was concerned girls might as well be from another planet, maybe a different solar system, but he liked them anyway, and he definitely wanted one in his life. But what the hell could he say to her?

Jack's little sister Carol was no help. She was thirteen, and boy-crazy, but she didn't have a clue what boys thought. Not that Jack could ask her. She'd tease him forever, and he wouldn't know how to respond.

Their ride to the soda shop was mostly quiet. Jack asked Sandra about the field hockey game, and he was embarrassed when she reminded him that it had only been a practice. She asked him what classes he was taking, and they were both surprised to learn they were in Spanish together, but hadn't noticed. God, I hope I didn't insult her, he thought, while she was thinking, God, I hope I didn't insult him. It never occurred to either of them that the other was equally shy and self-conscious.

Jack carefully walked around the car and opened the door for her, which she thought was silly but somehow something boys felt they had to do. He held the door of the shop open for her, too, but at least he didn't help her with her chair. She'd have burst out laughing, she knew, and that would have made things worse. He'd be scared off, and that certainly wasn't what she wanted. No, she thought, I'll let him do whatever he thinks he has to. Boys! she thought again. What's with them?

After they ordered ice cream sodas Jack began to relax a little. "We have a game tomorrow," he volunteered. "Against South."

"We have a game tomorrow, too," Sandra said. "I won't be able to watch yours."

"Oh," he said, feeling disappointed, but thinking he shouldn't show it. "Maybe next time. When's your next home game?"

"Tuesday," she said. "We play Parkside."

"We have practice, but then I'll go watch you. Your game, I mean." Oh, God, he thought. I did it again.

Chapter 8

When Jack called Teri for their fifth date he was upset when she said she was busy. He hadn't expected it. Somehow he thought they had developed an exclusive relationship, although they'd never discussed it. Had he been too forward? Should he not have held her hand in the movie the week before? He thought she'd had a good time; he couldn't believe that was the cause, but he couldn't think of any other reason why she turned him down. He tried to tell himself that she hadn't actually refused, but that was how he felt. She hadn't offered any explanation other than to say that she was busy that night; nevertheless, Jack assumed she had another date. He was hurt, and far more, disappointed. Had he thought of it he would have realized that what he was was jealous, but he couldn't get past his wounded feelings. His pride was injured, but even more he was afraid that she didn't want to be with him again, and he had an overwhelming need to see her.

He moped that night, turning down his fraternity brothers' usual Saturday invitation to go to the local bars for some beers, for he had reserved Saturdays for Teri. The fraternity boys had figured out a way to get drinks for their underage pledges at the bars, and because Jack hadn't gone with them he'd avoided that problem. While Jack was required to join them at the Friday night parties, he was always careful not to imbibe too much. He had no intention of ever repeating the drunkenness of the night of the party where he'd met Teri. Not only was he disgusted by his behavior, he was upset by the loss of control it had represented. That wasn't him, and his self-image had been badly damaged. Most of all, he instinctively knew that Teri wouldn't approve.

His self-pity got the best of him, though, and that night he wandered over to the bar, willingly accepting the beers the others got for him. He followed the first with a second, then a third, and he was working his way through a fourth when he saw Teri enter with some of her sorority sisters. Oh, Christ, he thought. Now I've blown it. She'll see me drunk again, and she'll never want to see me again.

Teri settled at a table on the other side of the room, her back to Jack. At first he thought she was deliberately ignoring him, but he finally realized that she just didn't know he was there, and he felt tremendous relief. He watched her down a couple of beers, and start to drink a third. Then she rose to go with the other girls to the bathroom, and Jack wondered again why girls only seemed to go in groups. He'd always thought it amusing and now he found it somehow reassuring that Teri was, in fact, at least somewhat like other girls. It made him feel less inadequate, a feeling he'd had ever since they'd met, because of her dignity and aura of self-possession.

On her way back she spotted Jack at his table and walked over. "Hi, Jack," she said, slightly tipsy but definitely not drunk. Jack had sobered up when he'd first seen her, and didn't feel as embarrassed as he'd feared. His apparent sobriety reassured him, and as he rose to greet her he was steady and his speech was clear. "Teri, I'd like you to meet my friends," and he introduced her to his fraternity brothers.

Then she introduced him to her friends, and explained that, as a pledge, she was required to go out drinking with her sorority sisters one Saturday a month, and had missed the last month because of her first date with Jack. He was bemused by her obvious need to explain, but even more felt tremendous relief that she wanted him to know that she hadn't turned him down for a date with someone else.

Teri's friends had been curious about the boy she was dating, for with her typical reserve she'd told them very little about him, so when they met Jack and his group they were pleased to finally meet her 'mystery man.' They then went back to their table, leaving Teri standing next to Jack. "I'm sorry about tonight," she said, still feeling the need to explain. "Can we go out next week?"

"Sure," he said, with a feeling of delight that overwhelmed him. "I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can have dinner."

"Great," she said. "But I'd better get back to the others. They really make us pledges obey the rules."

"Sure," he repeated. "It's the same in the fraternity."

Jack saw Teri turn red in response to something the girls said when she sat back down. He knew they were talking about him, but he wasn't embarrassed. Somehow he knew that the blush was because she liked him.

Chapter 9

Their relationship became exclusive after that, and they spent all the time they could together, except for the Saturday nights when Teri had to go drinking with the other sorority girls. Jack's pledge obligations were different; he had to go to the regular Friday fraternity parties, and he and Teri for some reason did not go out then. Jack resisted taking Teri to the parties, not wanting to expose her to the rowdy behavior that always occurred. The fraternity brothers insisted that he have at least five beers at each party, and he worked out a way to dump at least two of them, usually off the deck of the fraternity house, until he inadvertently poured one on a boy making out with his girlfriend below. As punishment he had to clean the toilets with a toothbrush, his own in fact, and he had to work a double shift at the library the next day, so for the whole day before he could get to the store to buy a replacement he was miserable, especially because he had a date with Teri that night, right after work. To get to the movie on time he wouldn't have time to stop at the drug store before he picked her up. He used up a whole bottle of mouthwash in the library bathroom, furious because he'd intended to kiss Teri that night, what would have been their first kiss, and instead he'd have to make sure he didn't get close to her. He couldn't explain that he hadn't been able to brush his teeth, he knew that would repulse her, but he couldn't bring himself to cancel their date.

He ordered triple butter on the popcorn that night, hoping that the smell of it would overcome his breath, and instead of sharing he deliberately consumed most of it. Teri couldn't figure out why Jack was acting so strangely, especially since she thought she'd come to know him pretty well, but she liked him enough to accept it. She contented herself with having his arm around her at the movie, although she, too, had hoped they would kiss that night. Finally. His shyness was getting to her, and she thought it was rather extreme. Enough, she thought. What is he waiting for? I can't possibly seem more willing. And I know he likes me.

Jack's thoughts weren't on the movie. As he ate more and more popcorn all the butter began to make him feel sick, and midway through the movie he had to excuse himself. When he finished throwing up he was even more disgusted. Great, he thought bitterly. Now I smell of vomit.

When he got back to his seat he started to whisper in her ear that he apparently had a stomach bug, but stopped himself in time when he realized that she would have to smell his atrocious breath. So looking straight ahead he said sotto voce that he wasn't feeling well, and together they left. He drove directly to her dorm, and after barely managing to get out of the car to open her door he got right back in and went back to his place. He spent a long part of the night worshiping the porcelain god.

Chapter 10

Thoughts of Teri somehow brought back memories of Sandra. They had spent an increasing amount of time in his Chevy, letting their natural inquisitiveness show, and the increasing conflicting feelings of relaxation and their need made them feel bolder with each encounter. Jack had learned from the other guys of a place where it was possible to park without interruption by the police, so that was where they headed. They were both too self-conscious to head immediately for the beach to watch the 'submarine races,' so they went to a movie or bowling (Jack had found that with someone he could talk to it wasn't a bad date) and had pizza or an ice cream soda before they let themselves do what they both really wanted. It was understood that they would end up at the beach.

Kissing quickly progressed to other things, and after their initial shyness that included the removal of clothing. Jack anguished over his feeling that he would lose control as they became bolder with each date. Sandra, too, was overcome with dissatisfaction as she learned of feelings she hadn't suspected her body could experience.

They soon reached the point where touching and kissing weren't enough. They knew where they were headed, but neither of them had been there before, and they were scared yet desperate. Neither could voice it, but with tacit agreement they made a date, and they knew there would be no movie or bowling that night.

Jack picked Sandra up at their usual time, 7 PM, and the night was overcast but warm. They would be comfortable in his car without clothing, and besides, the heat they generated together would steam the windows.

Jack gathered his nerve and went to the drugstore, where with embarrassment he bought what he knew was necessary. Unlike his friends, who carried a condom in their wallets 'just in case,' Jack had thought that was braggadocio and silly. He'd also thought it was insulting to Sandra. He'd never taken a girl for granted, and he hoped he never would. The situation with Sandra was completely different. He knew their need was mutual.

He took extra care when he shaved after his shower, and was gratified that he didn't accidentally slit his throat with the new blade. He wanted smooth skin for what he knew would be a closeness he'd never before experienced. His hair, for once, did what he wanted it to do, brushing flat and staying put.

He dressed carefully in newly pressed khakis and a tan dress shirt, much fancier than his usual worn jeans and a shirt that hung outside his pants. Brown socks and polished penny loafers completed his 'outfit.'

His parents noticed but did not comment on his more carefully-put-together look; they didn't dwell on Jack's sex life but presumed he had one, although they didn't realize the special significance of that evening. Jack said what he hoped was a normal "'bye" to them, and headed for his Chevy. As he started the engine he realized what he had failed to put in his pocket. He headed back into the house and retrieved the most essential item of the evening from its hiding place in his dresser and again went to his car. He was pleased to notice that his hands weren't shaking on the wheel.

His voice didn't tremble when he greeted Sandra's parents before she came down the stairs. She was always on time, something Jack appreciated, because it meant he didn't have to make conversation with her folks, and as she walked to him he noticed that she, too, was dressed more formally for the big event they anticipated, still in casual clothes but ones that were newer and told Jack that she felt the same as he. As they said good night to her parents they were both sure that her mom and dad knew what was happening, but they didn't have a clue, or if they did they weren't going to mention it. Sandra was still their little girl and always would be, and unlike Jack's parents they didn't want to think of her as sexually active. Jack was a boy, after all, and there was still very much a double standard.

As Jack opened the door of the Chevy for her Sandra gave Jack a quick kiss on the lips. He knew what it meant, but rather than relaxing him it only increased his feeling of anticipation and hence his case of nerves. As he walked around the car the realization that she wanted this as much as he provided a very welcome sense of relief. With that in mind he put the car in gear and headed for the beach.

As they drove Sandra put her hand between Jack's legs and he thought he would go mad. If she had stroked him he would have lost control of the car, but there was no way he would remove her hand. With his mind totally distracted it was a miracle that he made it to their usual parking place.

Their clothes came off immediately; there was no need for coyness, they'd been to this point many times before. They were both feverish with need, so doubts weren't an issue. Jack pulled out his purchase of earlier in the day, and after some fumbling with the wrapper which provoked a few 'dammits!' he was ready, and so was she.

This was new to them both, so there was more fumbling before he slid into her; the rhythm came quickly to them, and so did the pleasure. She gasped at the first moment, but that vanished with the sheer joy she, they, both felt. It was as wonderful as they'd anticipated, and they realized they had turned a point in their lives, not just in their relationship. Jack climaxed, the ecstasy of the moment both a feeling of foreverness and too quick. He knew that Sandra hadn't reached the heaven he felt, so he was careful to bring her there. She had to know the wonder he had, and he loved her so at that moment, and was so considerate, for lack of a better term, that he carefully and tenderly brought her to the same point of joy and ecstasy he had reached.

Their panting and tears matched each other's, and their embrace and kisses were different than before: they knew they would please each other like this whenever they could. They'd never give up this experience; they had felt pure bliss, and they'd never have this moment again. At that instant they loved each other, and the purity of that love was a forever feeling. No matter who they were with afterwards it would never be matched.

They held each other silently, wondering as children do why their parents had warned them against this, why this had been denied them, when it was so wonderful, so ecstatic. They enjoyed the sweetness of being in each other's arms, the tenderness of new lovers, feeling that they were the first to know the bliss of love, the satisfaction of hunger, the satiation of lust.

As both knew they would return to the beach whenever possible, and Jack was always aware of what he now carried in his pocket, but he knew it was because Sandra wanted it there, too; it wasn't unwarranted anticipation that was insulting to her, it was a realistic presence of their mutual need. And it was a need; Jack was no longer embarrassed by his increasingly frequent visits to the drug store.

They returned to 'their' parking spot as often as they could, but there was no pretense of watching 'submarine races;' their thoughts were of only one thing, and they rushed to begin. Their boldness grew, and so did their experimentation, which was limited only by the confines of the car. As the weather improved Jack's blanket was spread on the sand of the dunes, and their eagerness and curiosity enabled them to go beyond the limitations the Chevy had imposed. They reveled not only in their own pleasure but in the joy they gave each other. Both were selfless as well as needful, and they knew they had reached a place, and they were joyful that it was a place they both wanted, needed, to go.

They learned more about their own bodies as they learned about each other's. Jack learned not only what aroused Sandra, but what made him go wild. He grew bolder in directing her, telling her what he liked, what he wanted her to do to him, showing her what he so desperately needed. After her initial hesitation she did the same, until they both surprised themselves by becoming wanton, brazen in their experimentation, exhilarated beyond anything they had ever imagined. It made Jack a consummate lover.

They were never discovered, although that possibility had brought a sense of danger that had added to their thrill. The experience never became routine for either of them, for how could it? They were kids, expressing their love to and for each other, and that wonder would never end. It was marked on them forever, and it was wonderful.

As the summer ended, though, it brought with it the realization that they didn't feel true love; their feelings were more than mere lust, but not those of a permanent commitment. Sandra felt that it was time to move on, but she'd never forget Jack, or the feelings he'd engendered in her as well as the joy he'd introduced her to. But for her it was time to spread her wings, and she couldn't do that if she continued her relationship with him. With a great deal of tears she told this to him, and he cried with her although he understood her need and her ambivalence. He knew he had to let her go, for he recognized the wisdom of her decision; he, too, saw that their feelings were not the love that would make for a life together. As they made love one last time, not for 'auld lang syne' but as an expression of their appreciation of each other and the joy they had experienced together, they were both glad and upset. The turning point in their lives had moved even further around, and it was past the point of no return. Their relationship was over, even though their feelings for each other would never be.

Chapter 11

He wasn't altogether unhappy when the knock on the door interrupted his reverie. He'd been so lost in his past that it was time to come back, time to once again think about the life he was now living. So when he looked out the peephole he now used faithfully he was pleased to see Kim standing outside.

"Hi, Dad," she said happily. "I've come to take you to lunch."

"Hi, Sweetheart," he said, kissing her on the cheek as she walked in. "Did we have plans?"

"No, but I think it's time you became spontaneous. Not everything has to be planned, you know. Not everything has to be tactical. It's a gorgeous day, and I thought we could go to Santa Monica and eat outside. I bet you haven't done that in awhile."

"No, I haven't," he admitted, realizing that her suggestion sounded like just what he needed. It would give him a chance to shake his memories and return to the present. He'd spent more than enough time in the past that morning, and while the memories he'd re-visited were wonderful ones, he couldn't live in that period of his life anymore. He was living other, wonderful times now, and hiding inside meant wasting them.

"It's still chilly, Dad, take a sweater," Kim called after Jack as he went to his bedroom to change from his slippers to his shoes. Jack smiled ruefully to himself, wondering when Kim had become the parent and he the child. He saw the grey sweater in the front of his closet, the one that had come in the box, and without thinking he pulled it on. Then he went to join his daughter for lunch.

Chapter 12

He was in a good frame of mind for his appointment with his doctor. He gave him the pages he'd printed from the computer, the memories he'd resurrected, some so painfully, knowing that the doctor thought it was therapeutic, although he didn't see how. Nevertheless he'd kept at it, deriving some small comfort from his mental time with Teri and the other good things in his past, his sub-conscious giving positive meaning to his life that counterbalanced the terrible things he'd lived through, had done.

They talked, Jack telling of his recuperation, his gathering strength, his enjoyment of little Jack, his growing feeling of well-being. The doctor noticed that for the first time Jack seemed to be in a better, stronger frame of mind, more positive, more outgoing, more willing to be social, ready to meet other people, less withdrawn, less secretive. In a word, healthier. He told this to Jack, who was somewhat taken aback. He hadn't seen this in himself, and he turned it over in his mind. Healthy, emotionally. Something he'd never equated with himself, for in his introspection he'd come to think of himself only as damaged. Was it possible that he could function in the normal world, with normal people, and have a normal life? That was what he wanted now, in his retirement, when the pressures of CTU were past, and he was free of the constant need for secrecy and a furtive life, a solitary life, when revealing details of his life would put others at risk. Now he wanted it, but he never thought he'd have it. The doctor's assurance that this was coming to him was a revelation, an epiphany, and it was something Jack would have to digest. He couldn't accept it overnight, as much as he now found he desperately wanted it to be true.

Several things he liked about the doctor were that his office was private, not on the premises of CTU, and that he was never rushed, not tied to a clock, so the doctor never said 'well, our hour is up,' or anything like that, so the men continued to talk until Jack felt there was nothing more to say, and then he made his next appointment. He had heard from other people that most therapists were rigid, keeping close watch on their time, so when their allotted hour had passed the patients were ushered out. Because Jack's doctor didn't do this he felt that the man really listened to him, and that was one of the reasons he was able to relax. But the main reason was the man's security clearance from CTU. He was the only 'civilian' to whom Jack had ever been able to speak in confidence, who Jack knew could understand what he'd experienced, and who wouldn't talk about it. This gave Jack a comfort and a reassurance he'd never known, and had never expected to have. That was the real reason his therapy was proving so successful. It was the reason Jack was re-gaining his mental health.

Jack talked longer than he ever had, revealing details of missions he'd tried to bury, even from himself, and it was a catharsis. The proverbial weight was beginning to lift from his shoulders as he was able to tell of the horrors he had faced, and for the most part had successfully overcome, but usually at an unbelievable cost to himself. He had sublimated most of them, sucking it up, going on to the next mission, for there was always a next mission, making himself try to live a normal life with his family, whatever that was. He was torn apart by it more than he'd ever realized, and the toll on him had been enormous. That he and Teri had managed to stay together at all was miraculous. Their reconciliation following their separation was unbelievable, in the doctor's experience. It was further proof of Jack's super-human will to accomplish his every assignment, whether it was professional or personal. But that will eventually had to break. No one was that strong. No one.

The doctor also marveled at Teri's devotion to Jack. She must have loved him dearly, the doctor felt. He could imagine how difficult Jack must have been to live with, with the moods he must have experienced, for the secretiveness Jack was beginning to acknowledge must have been evident throughout their years together. Without Teri in Jack's life the doctor thought that he would have cracked much sooner. He couldn't understand how Teri's death, which the doctor knew brought such unbearable guilt to Jack, had enabled him to function at all. And yet Jack had, even continuing to be a devoted father to their daughter.

Finally Jack's mental exhaustion spilled over to physical fatigue, and the session ended. The doctor called Kim to pick Jack up, for he was too drained to drive. This hadn't happened before, but they'd never had a meeting like this before. The doctor told Jack he wanted to see him the next day, much sooner than they'd scheduled a follow-up appointment before, for he knew that the revelations Jack had made that day would weigh heavily on him. When Kim arrived Jack didn't protest when she helped him to the car. He was too tired to fight it. He was overwhelmed with exhaustion; his mind was on overload. He'd experienced too much that day. He took the sedative the doctor gave him before he left the office, and agreed to spend the night at Kim's. He was in no state to stay alone.

Chapter 13

Although Jack slept that night he was still exhausted when he awoke the next morning. When the phone rang he pulled the covers up and tried to go back to sleep, but Kim knocked on the door and told him it was the doctor calling, and she handed the portable phone to him.

"Jack, how are you this morning?" the doctor asked. "Did you sleep through the night?"

"Yeah," Jack mumbled. "I slept, but I'm still very tired."

"The sedative I gave you has worn off by now. You're tired because yesterday's session was so intense. That's why you have to get up now. You can't stay in bed today. You need to come into the office so we can work through this."

"I'm too tired," Jack replied. "Not today. Maybe tomorrow."

"No, Jack," the doctor insisted. "It has to be today. Get up and have some breakfast, but don't have regular coffee. Have decaf. I know you're tired, but I don't want you to have caffeine. It'll only make you jumpy. Then take a shower, and have Kim drive you here. We have to talk. It's important."

"Doc," Jack began, but the doctor cut him off.

"Jack, it's really important, or I wouldn't insist. Take the shower first if you want, it'll help you wake up, but you have to come to the office. You really have to. If you don't this is going to plague you, and it'll cause serious problems. Please, Jack. You're making such wonderful progress. Listen to me. I know what I'm doing. Do what I say now."

There was a pause, and then Jack reluctantly said, "Okay, Doc, I'll get up now. I'll be there in about an hour, hour and a half."

"That'll be fine," came the reply. "Let me talk to Kim now, please."

Jack handed the phone to his daughter, who had been standing there throughout the conversation, as he swung his legs out of bed and headed for the shower. She was distressed to see that her father seemed to be unsteady on his feet, and she told this to the doctor, who tried to reassure her.

"That's because of the exhaustion, Kim. He went through the wringer yesterday. That's why it's so important that I see him today. We have to work out what he said in yesterday's session. You know I can't tell you what we talked about, so you'll just have to trust me. But it's very, very important that he come in. So please fix him some breakfast with protein and carbohydrates and coffee, but it has to be decaf. Even if he asks for regular, make sure it's decaf. Then bring him in."

"All right, Doctor," she said, although she was still worried. "I'll drive him there as soon as he's ready."

While Jack showered Kim prepared three eggs and four slices of toast, and poured a large glass of orange juice while she brewed a pot of decaf coffee. Under the circumstances, it seemed more important than the usual heart-healthy diet she usually imposed on him.

When he walked into the kitchen, his hair still wet, he seemed somewhat more alert, although still clearly tired.

"Thanks, Baby," he said, sitting down at the table. "I'm sorry you have to go to all this trouble."

"It's no trouble, Dad," she said. "The doctor explained that it's very important that you see him today, so we'll leave as soon as you finish eating. Okay?"

"Yeah, Sweetheart," he mumbled, his mouth full of toast. He hadn't realized he was hungry.

Chapter 14

The session with the doctor was the ordeal Jack anticipated during the ride over with Kim. Once again they discussed the painful subjects of the day before, but this time, instead of letting Jack talk in a narrative the doctor interjected comments, guiding the conversation, offering his observations, explaining to Jack how the events had affected him, had overcome his ability to process them, had buried themselves in his psyche, had damaged him. He let Jack see that he wasn't evil because of the things he'd done, in fact he was amazing for he'd used his strength to accomplish things that most men could not, in the cause of helping others. He knew that getting Jack to believe this was crucial, for rejecting it could cause Jack to descend into madness. This was the crux of Jack's therapy.

Jack had been talking at the speed of an automatic weapon, barely pausing for breath, unable to stop the words from spilling out. At first he couldn't take in the doctor's comments, but as the doctor's words started to penetrate his speech slowed. Jack became able to listen, and he heard, really heard, that he wasn't a bad man. He had done what he had to do. People had died, he had ordered others to kill, he himself had killed, he had even killed innocents, but only when it was necessary to protect, to save uncountable others. When there had been no other option, no other choice. That wasn't evil. That was an untenable, unbearable position for any man to be in. Yet Jack had done it. To save others. Only to save others.

Jack began to cry, great heaving sobs, letting go of feelings he'd never before let himself express, even when Teri had died, for even then he'd controlled himself, for Kim's sake, for his own, for his own sanity. He'd never permitted himself to fully feel. Now he did. He cried for everything, for Teri, for the guilt he'd felt, for the life he'd never had but should have, the life he'd denied himself, had never let himself have, the aloneness, the terrible aloneness, the unbearable aloneness, that he'd imposed on himself as penance, like sackcloth and ashes. His mind started to put things together. He was far from forgiving himself, he might never fully allow himself to, but he started to understand at long last that there was another way of looking at things, at himself, at the man who was Jack Bauer. That Jack Bauer was a man who deserved to live, as a man, as more than a shell.

He had been there for more than three hours, even longer than the day before, and he was thoroughly exhausted, but it was less enervating in a way. His mind wasn't beating itself up. His subconscious was starting to tell itself that there might be a worthwhile person there. A man who just might deserve a decent life..

He was able to go back to his own house that night, and he again slept straight through. When he awoke the next morning he was less tired, although he still very much felt the effects of the day before. The doctor had scheduled an appointment for that afternoon as well, for he knew that Jack needed more, much more, to get him through this crisis. But he believed that Jack would overcome it, and that this would be perhaps the most pivotal point in his life. Jack started to sense it, too.

Chapter 15

He drove himself to the doctor's office that afternoon, not as fearful of what was to come, for he felt more hopeful after the previous day's meeting. He knew that it would be tough, yet at the same time he very much wanted the release he hoped it would bring.

He wasn't disappointed. He quickly sat down opposite the doctor, and indicated that he was ready to begin without hesitation. The doctor started by asking Jack how he felt.

"I'm not sure," Jack said tentatively, for he had resisted examining his feelings. He knew he felt somewhat better, but he didn't know why. He hoped the doctor would tell him.

"That makes sense, Jack," the doctor said. "We've been going through some pretty heavy stuff. You've been talking about some of the most serious things you've faced, and that's obviously not easy, but you've never let yourself really confront any of this before. Not head-on. Think about it. You haven't written about any of this. So far you've described a lot of things about your childhood, but nothing about your missions. That tells me a lot."

Jack was silent for a moment as he thought about the doctor's words. He was right. He'd written about virtually everything except what he knew were the most important things, the things that made him need therapy. The things that had brought him to this place, to this point in his life. The things he'd never let himself really, truly face before.

"I – I don't know, Doctor. I – maybe I was leading up to them. I don't know. Maybe I misunderstood what you said when you told me to write down my background. I thought you meant my childhood, my past experiences. My life growing up. I didn't know you wanted me to write about me years, my missions with CTU."

"You didn't misunderstand, Jack. I wanted you to write about your childhood, so I can understand what your formative years were like. That's very important to understanding how you were able to accomplish what you have. I want you to tie it in to your missions, which I know are paramount in your mind, even though you've retired from CTU. Those are the things that are causing you all the stress you're feeling. It's important for you to write about those, too."

"Do you want me to keep writing, Doc? Continue my 'memoirs,' but write about my missions, too? It's kinda hard, because I've always tried to keep them separate from my personal life. I don't know if I can do both."

"Then write to about your missions for awhile, Jack. Concentrate on those, and then we'll try to tie them in to how they affected the rest of your life. Is that going to be too hard for you, Jack? You can take some time off, you know. I know how exhausting this has been. You don't have to jump into it. You can give it some time."

"I don't know, Doctor. I'll have to see. I'm not sure if I can face it just now. I may have to give it a few days. Maybe more than a few days," he admitted.

"That'll be fine, Jack. But I want you to check in with me tomorrow. You can just call me. You don't have to come in, unless you want to. But I do want to see you again this week. Saturday's good. That'll be three days. That should give things time to calm down."

"You work on Saturdays, Doc? No wonder you've got clearance from CTU," Jack tried o joke. "I hope you get paid extra for week-ends. God knows we never did."

"Nope," the doctor replied. "Same as you guys. Always on call, and straight salary. No overtime."

"That's the government for you," Jack said, hoping it sounded light. For all the work he'd done over the years, he'd never complained about the money, although it had never to come close to adequately compensating him or the other agents for the countless times they'd risked life and limb. They'd all simply accepted it as one more part of the sacrifice they made for their country.

"Yeah, Jack, it's just what we do," the doctor said, deliberately keeping his statement in the present tense. He knew that although Jack no longer worked for CTU, he was still paying the price for all his years there, and always would. For Jack Bauer, his work as an agent would never be a thing of the past.

Chapter 16

The next day was very hard. Unlike the previous night his sleep was frequently interrupted by dreams he couldn't remember when he awoke, but he was drenched with sweat and he was exhausted when the morning came. He resisted getting out of bed, something he'd never before done in his life, but after tossing and turning for an additional hour he gave up, showered and dressed and made his way to the kitchen.

Out of spite and resentment (towards whom he couldn't say) he made the highest cholesterol breakfast he could think of and drank five straight cups of regular coffee, which made him so sick to his stomach that he vomited and suffered a tremendous headache afterward. He closed the blinds and lay on his couch, hating himself, still not realizing or admitting that his resentment was directed not at others but at him, for he was still unable to face what he knew had to come. He had to face what he had fought all his life to avoid. The things that he had tried hardest to bury. Slowly he admitted it to himself. As with all other things, he could never run away.

With this acknowledgment the headache started to fade and he rose from the couch and opened the blinds, but he couldn't make himself sit at the laptop, which now seemed to dominate the room. Suddenly it seemed 10 feet tall, dwarfing him. He had been uncomfortable when he'd first started recording his 'memoirs,' but he'd hidden his true memories by writing about comfortable things, his childhood, his adolescence, the less-painful missions, even Teri's death, with which he'd wrestled and finally made his peace. But he'd assiduously avoided the things he'd never even acknowledged to himself: the deaths he'd caused, he'd committed, the missions he'd planned, he'd carried out, the ones that had failed, even those that had succeeded, but at a price that could never be disclosed to anyone. Not even himself.

The doctor had said he could take some time off, and Jack tried to cling to this. He grabbed his gym bag in the hope that endorphines would help ease the pain. He ran a mile more than usual at the track, then worked out for 10 minutes longer than his customary routine on the weight machines before swimming 75 laps instead of his usual 50. It didn't help. Rather than the usual high the exercise always brought he only felt more tired. The shower only left him feeling more morose. Although it was only noon he stopped at a local bar and ordered a beer and waited for the Dodgers game to begin at 1. He knew he was in trouble, but he didn't care. He also knew he should call the doctor, but he didn't care about that, either. Suddenly, he didn't care about anything.

Chapter 17

By five o'clock he had had six beers, and he was blitzed. The bartender refused to serve him any more, and told him to call someone to drive him home. Jack wouldn't call Kim, he was still thinking enough not to want her to see him like that, to be honest he didn't want to hear her lecture him, so he decided to call a cab.

As soon as he managed to get the key in the door he barely made it to the bathroom before he vomited for the second time that day. The headache that followed didn't go away as quickly, though. It wasn't a hangover, it was a full-blown self-induced, self-indulgent punishment.

He dragged himself to the laptop, determined to start. His couch, his bed did more than call to him, they screamed to him like a siren, but he blocked them out, and his fingers started tapping, the memories pouring out, the blocks finally unplugged. He was back in Afghanistan, in the days before the Taliban, in the days when the Soviets were trying to take over the country, and the US was trying to prevent the take-over.

Chapter 18

He was pinned down with his men, on a mission as a lieutenant in Special Forces. He and his squad, commanded by a captain he didn't fully trust, had parachuted in the night before, and they had lost three before they even landed, cut down by insurgents hidden in the forest. Spotters had warned against using that landing zone, had said it wasn't safe, but Captain Craigen had insisted that they would go in there. Already the mission was a disaster, and Jack knew it wouldn't get any better. He hadn't liked the way the captain had laid it out, and he had suggested alternatives, respectfully, but his commander, an arrogant man, had told him in so many words to shut up and obey the chain of command. He wouldn't tolerate disrespect, he'd said, and Jack's job was to carry out his orders, not to question them.

Jack had never served under a man like that before; as an officer he'd always worked with men who'd welcomed input from juniors and listened to them, heard them out, even if they hadn't ultimately taken their advice. But not Captain Craigen. Jack had enough confidence in himself, in his abilities, to know they were headed for disaster, and it wasn't arrogance on his part. He knew what he could do, and he realized what this commander couldn't. Lives would be lost on this mission, unnecessarily, and there wasn't anything Jack could do about it.

When the men had reassembled at their designated position after the jump, after the bodies of their comrades had been recovered under fire and buried, despite Craigen's misgivings but with his grudging permission, for he was smart enough to know that the men wouldn't tolerate an order to just leave the dead out in the open for the insurgents to dismember as the men knew they would do, Craigen ordered them to check their weapons and again review their plans. Adjustments had to be made because of the loss of the three men, two riflemen and a spotter. In addition, they had learned when they landed that another man had been shot in the leg, and there was no way he could or would be left behind. That posed a special problem for the mission, for he would be brought along, and not only would that slow them down, but two other men would have to carry him. That would leave them six men short.

Craigen divided up the men into two groups, and he put Jack in charge of the forward group, with Craigen leading the three men in the rear. This division was a mistake, Jack thought, for they were already spread too thin. Jack and his men had rifles and a hand-held missile launcher. They did not have a spotter to gauge the range of their missiles, though, which meant accuracy was next to impossible. It became a suicide mission, for the few men could not possibly hold off the horde of insurgents they were sure to encounter. Even with the group behind them they could not hope to come out alive. All of the men knew it.

Jack tried to reason with Craigen, but Craigen accused Jack of being a coward. Jack seethed, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't supercede his captain's orders. The split groups moved out, all of the men wishing Jack was in charge, for they knew that they didn't have a prayer of surviving the mission as it was laid out.

Almost immediately they came under fire, but it was from the rear. They were pinned down, and the enemy was so close that the sole spotter in the group, one of Craigen's group, couldn't even gauge the range for his own missileman, who was the first to die. The spotter was able to call out a range for the missile to the man in Jack's forward group, who launched his with accuracy and wiped out the men closing in on them from behind. The two groups started to move together but Craigen ordered them to split up again. Jack respectfully suggested to Craigen that it would be safer for the men, and more effective if they closed ranks, but Craigen's response was to tell Jack that he would have Jack court-martialed when they returned, for cowardice. Jack saw movement up ahead, and with his usual accuracy cut down several men closing in on them. While Jack and his group were taking out the enemy ahead of them, more insurgents were coming up on Craigen's group in the rear, taking out two more men. In defiance of Craigen's orders the rest of Craigen's group joined Jack's. Craigen himself moved up with them and glared at Jack, warning him silently not to say anything.

Pinned down, Jack ordered the remnants of the squad to form a phalanx and they returned fire, and somehow managed to repel the attack that came at them from all sides. They beat off the attackers, and then there was quiet. The group was safe, at least for the moment. Craigen said nothing.

While the men drank quietly from their canteens and ate energy bars, Craigen sat by himself, studying maps. Despite Craigen's threats Jack tried to talk to him again.

"Sir," Jack began, "there's a thin copse of trees about a half click to the northeast, about 30 degrees elevation. If we form a perimeter we'll be able to see them coming at us. The men can rest, and we can move out tonight."

"Bauer, how many times do I have to tell you? You're a fcking coward, and I won't stand for it. How you got to be an officer in this man's army I'll never understand. I'll see you behind bars when this is over. We're not waiting like girls to move out at night. We're going to go in like men and take out that command post before we leave, and that's final. If you bring this up again I'll shoot you myself. Do I make myself clear? Now shut the fck up. I don't want to hear another fcking word out of you. Not another fcking word."

Jack went back to the men, furious and frustrated. There was nothing else he could do, yet he knew if he didn't do something all of the men would die. That he would die, too, wasn't something he even considered.

Chapter 19

No one could sleep, despite the rotating watch. The danger the men knew they were in precluded that. Besides, they knew their best chance was to proceed under darkness, but the captain resisted that too, and these men, all experienced Special Forces, were furious. They were professional army, though, so the concept of disobeying an order never entered their minds, although it would have been understandable in their circumstances. They were being led straight to their deaths.

As dawn broke Craigen called them to their positions. They started out as a group, the idea of splitting up realistically but reluctantly having been abandoned by the captain, and the beginning was surprisingly smooth. On their bellies despite the snow the men in their winter camouflage made their way over the difficult terrain, but the movement of their weapons was unmistakable. There was no way to disguise rifles and weapons belts and especially missiles.

The captain had decided to go straight in rather than stick to trees for cover as Jack had urged, and they had managed to go two clicks, leaving only a kilometer to go to their objective before the hostile fire began, but they were completely out in the open. There was absolutely no cover around. Jack immediately formed the men into a defensive position, forgetting about Craigen, who inexplicably remained silent. Jack grabbed a missile launcher and he and the assigned missileman took range directions from the rmaining spotter and fired at the insurgents closing in on them, while the riflemen picked off the others.

After a furious firefight that on reflection Jack realized lasted bare minutes but while living through it had seemed interminable the silence was sudden and unbelievable. They had beaten off the enemy, and his men were still alive. Without waiting for the insurgents to re-form Jack ordered his squad to make for the command post, and with the help of the snow that started to fall almost horizontally they arrived intact, Craigen among them.

They quickly overran the post that had been badly damaged by their missiles, and after killing the men still alive inside they took shelter there. Jack called for extraction, but was told that due to the weather it was impossible. They'd have to wait it out.

Craigen still said nothing so Jack posted guards, assigning the men a rotating schedule, providing relief for half the squad so the other half could rest. He would try to stay awake until the chopper could get them out.

After checking the guard positions he sat for the first time in hours and quickly ate four energy bars. He drank copious amounts of water, and as he got up he found himself staring at Craigen's pistol.

He was shocked into silence. The men standing guard had heard the movement behind them and turned to see their captain pointing his weapon at his second-in-command, the man they knew had saved their lives. The men off-duty who were dozing sensed that something was wrong, and they became alert, Everyone was frozen.

"Captain," Jack said carefully, "please holster that. Sir, with all due respect, why are you doing this?"

"Lieutenant, I've had enough of your insubordination. You've disobeyed every order I've given. You've endangered all of the men on this mission, you killed three men when we 'chuted in, you killed the spotter when we were attacked, all of that is your fault. You got half this squad killed. You're a coward. Cowardice under fire. The penalty for that is death. As your commanding officer I have the authority to execute you. I'm going to carry that out."

"Sir, with all due respect, can we talk this out? The storm should let up soon, and they'll be able to get us out. I'll turn myself in as soon as we get to base, and you can have me court-martialed. I won't contest the charges. That'll be better, don't you think? No one will question your decision, and there won't be any inquiry against you. It'll look better for your record. No one will think of you as the officer who shot one of his men in the field." Jack spoke hesitantly, quietly, not knowing what would set the man off, make him shoot him.

"You can't talk your way out of this, Bauer. You're a coward. Every time I gave an order you disobeyed it. You tried to run away. You endangered the men, you got most of them killed. The penalty for that is summary execution. I'm carrying that out now."

Jack saw that Craigen had gone over the edge, and there was no way of reasoning with him. He was going to die.

As Craigen pulled back the bolt on his pistol Jack quickly pulled his own weapon from his side and simultaneously cocked it. As Craigen raised his weapon and started tro squeeze the trigger Jack raised his own and fired. He hit Craigen in the shoulder. Craigen's shot went wild, and he went down.

Jack's aim couldn't have been better. He had missed Craigen's heart by several inches, as he intended, merely wounding the man and preventing him from firing accurately, saving his own life but not endangering Craigen's.

The spotter, who doubled as the squad's medic, immediately went to tend to Craigen, and he saw that despite the accuracy of Jack's aim Craigen's wound was fatal. The shot had severed the captain's thoracic artery, and a tourniquet couldn't be applied. He would bleed to death.

Jack called frantically for a chopper, but was told again that the snow was still too heavy for extraction. Craigen died soon after, but Jack continued to supervise the squad as they stood watch, making sure that the men had proper rest and relief, doing his duty. But he couldn't get it out of his mind. He had killed his commanding officer.

Chapter 20

No charges were filed after the informal inquiry that followed their return to base. The testimony of the entire squad, from Craigen's insistence on parachuting into an unsafe landing zone to the deaths of the men under his command to his attempt to kill Jack all made it clear that Jack had had no choice but to shoot Craigen. Jack's record showed that his expert marksmanship had made the site of Jack's shot no accident; he had really meant to miss Craigen's heart. That he had hit his captain in a crucial artery was unintentional; his death was tragic, but an accident. All of that cleared Jack officially, but it did nothing for Jack's ability to live with what he had done.

Jack refused the Bronze Star awarded to him for his part in the mission; officially, the officers in charge looked only at his bravery under fire, how he had taken command and saved his men while accomplishing the objective, not only tacitly accepting the death of Craigen, but marveling that the lieutenant had had the presence of mind, the courage to continue to carry out his duty under threat of court-martial, to take command of the squad, to save them when they were surrounded, to accomplish the mission, to do what had to be done after Craigen had obviously suffered a breakdown and had failed to lead his troops. There was no question that Craigen had frozen; from the time the squad was attacked in the open Craigen hadn't spoke, hadn't issued an order. Jack had saved the mission, and the men. Even after Craigen's death he had kept his head and protected the squad for the thirty-six hours that followed before they could be coptered to safety.

But Jack could focus only on the murder he had committed, for that was the only way he could consider it; that others could look at it otherwise, even somehow deem it admirable, worthy of a medal, was an abomination to him.

He seriously considered resigning his commission, but he knew there was no way he could fit into civilian life. The only way he could possibly hope to survive was in a military setting, where there was at least a chance that he could be with others who might have an inkling of the sense of duty and obligation that he felt. Not that others could ever understand that he had killed his CO. No one could understand that. How could anyone ever forgive it? There was never a chance that he could.

Chapter 21

The sweat pouring down his face blurred his vision so that he could no longer see the laptop screen, but it didn't matter. He was typing furiously, getting most of the words right, the spelling didn't matter, the thoughts were racing to come out. This was one of the most painful things he had ever lived through, and it was one of the hardest to face. He'd killed another officer, his commanding officer, and that it was to save his own life was no excuse. A soldier didn't do that. He didn't shoot a comrade-in-arms. He didn't shoot his CO.

When his hands stopped moving on the keyboard he couldn't control the shaking of his body. The tears that poured from his eyes mingled with the sweat dripping into his mouth until he started to choke, and once again his stomach started to heave, dry heaves for there was nothing left in his stomach, and he bent over in exhaustion. He didn't have the energy to crawl over to the couch, all his body could do was roll out of the chair onto the floor. Without knowing he curled into a ball in a stupor, his mind fighting to find darkness.

It was past 2 a.m. before he stirred, with every muscle burning and his head pounding more than any bender had ever brought on. He forced himself to his knees and shakily pulled himself up by holding onto the legs of the desk, and grabbing onto the walls he made it to the kitchen and found the aspirin bottle. He was able to get the cap off and tried to swallow four pills, but his dry mouth wouldn't let him. He put his head under the faucet and drank greedily until he felt the pills go down. Then he slid down the cabinet onto the floor, and buried his head in his hands.

He couldn't move when he heard the phone, and the pain in his brain screamed louder with each ring. Stop! he tried to command it, but after a pause it started again and again. He covered his ears with his hands, desperate to block out the noise, to block out anything that meant consciousness, for that only brought on more pain.

Kim found him there, still on the floor, his hands still over his ears, tears still pouring down his face, and he wouldn't respond to her. She grabbed the phone and called the doctor. He said he'd be right there.

Chapter 22

His body relaxed almost immediately after the doctor injected him with the sedative, and the doctor and Kim managed to get him to the couch. Jack remained unresponsive, yet despite the large dose the doctor had given him he didn't sleep. The trauma was too great.

While Kim sat with Jack the doctor went to the laptop and brought up the last entries Jack had written. It didn't take long for the doctor to realize what had brought on Jack's breakdown.

"Kim," he said quietly, "your dad has to go into the hospital."

"What?" she asked, shocked. "Why? He's doing so well!"

"He's facing things now that he hasn't had to deal with before. Terrible things that are very hard to deal with. He needs help to get through this. It's best that he be in the hospital."

"I don't understand," she said. "His heart's fine. He's fine. All of his doctors say he's fine."

"This isn't medical, Kim. It's psychological. Your father's had a breakdown. He needs therapy, medication. It's not safe to do this as an out-patient. He has to be admitted."

Kim didn't know what to say. Her father was the strongest man she'd ever known. A breakdown wasn't something she could fathom. A psychiatric hospital – people wandering around in bathrobes, talking to themselves. That couldn't be where her dad belonged. The doctor had to be wrong.

"No, doctor. That's not what he needs. Give him medicine, and I'll take care of him. He can stay with me. I'll bring him to your office whenever you say, every day, even. But you're not putting him in one of those places, with people in straitjackets. Dad doesn't belong there. I won't let you do that."

"Kim, it's for his own good. Look at him. Take a good look. This isn't something you can handle. I can't treat him just with medicine or office visits. He needs round-the-clock care by trained professionals. That's the only way to help him, to bring him out of this. Otherwise we're going to lose him, Kim. We may never be able to bring him back."

Kim was staring at her father, willing him to look at her, to talk to her, but she saw that he wasn't able to do either. His eyes were open, but he wasn't 'there.' And she had no idea where he was.

Slowly she said, "All right. What do I have to do?"

Chapter 23

Jack was unresponsive when he was admitted to the hospital but strong sedatives were administered anyway, for the doctor was concerned about the condition Jack would be in if he roused without them. He was kept sedated for several days and fed through intravenous tubes, but the doctor came to his bedside frequently and spoke to him quietly, knowing that even through the drug-induced fugue Jack would hear him, and he hoped that his voice would penetrate Jack's subconscious enough to calm him, provide some strength to enable him to begin to face the most painful period of his life.

Part of the period of intensive therapy and observation coupled with drug-induced sleep was to insure that Jack wouldn't try to harm himself. As the sedatives were tapered off Jack took several days to come to his senses, but after he did he realized what the shrinks were really concerned about, and it stunned him. All the times he'd looked at his gun, had considered eating it, especially after Teri's death, it hadn't been a real possibility, but now, now...he realized they were right. If they'd left him alone, he just might have.

After he was awake and alert, after they'd cut way back on the sedatives, he'd had twice-daily sessions with his doctor, going over what he'd written about the mission in Afghanistan, and the death of Captain Craigen. Jack hadn't been able to talk about it at first, he'd just cried when he saw the papers in the doctor's hand, the print-out from his laptop, but he'd known instantly what it was, and it had set off an emotional reaction that had caused the doctor to inject more sedatives. They'd kept Jack that way for another couple of days, finally tapering off the medicine while the doctor quietly talked to him, talked him down, until after the last dose was wearing off Jack could begin to speak half-way rationally. But he was still kept under close observation. Suicide watch.

"I blocked that, Doc. I mean, I completely blocked it. In all these years I never let myself think about that mission, about Craigen, not even once. How could I do that? I tore myself to pieces over other missions, over Nightfall, but I never thought about Craigen. Am I insane? How could a sane person so completely block his mind like that? It's not like forgetting something at the grocery. I murdered a man, and I completely put it out of my mind. I'm insane. I ought to be locked away. I can't be out there, with people, especially with people I love. I might hurt them, and not even know it. What if I hurt people, Doc? What if I hurt Kim? You've gotta keep me locked up, Doc. You've got to."

The pain in Jack's voice was wrenching, and there was no point in trying to reach him rationally in that condition. Only constant therapy could possibly save this man. The doctor sighed as he called for another, stronger sedative. Jack's pain was as bad as he'd ever seen. The longer the PTSD lasted, the deeper it became embedded, the harder it was to treat. And Jack had lived with it for a long, long time. His super-human emotional strength, what had seen him through so many horrors, was one thing, the doctor knew. Whether it was enough to overcome this was another. He didn't like the odds. Besides, he wasn't a betting man.

Chapter 24

Their daily sessions had continued, as had the sedation. Jack was treated well in the hospital, but it wasn't the orderlies or the nurses who would make the difference. It was a question of whether Jack had the inner strength to fight back.

It was obvious that Jack's pain wasn't abating, and Kim's requests to see her father were discouraged by the doctor. Jack didn't want to see her, anyway. Not that he voiced it; he simply didn't respond when he was told that Kim had asked to see him, and the doctor had told her that it wasn't good for Jack to have any visitors, even, especially, her. Jack was too wracked by guilt to see her. Kim would arouse more guilt in Jack, for she would represent the normalcy of life that he believed he never should have had, for he felt that having killed Craigen he never deserved to go on living, and that meant he never should have had the pleasure of a family, of a wife and child. Kim was devastated, but she was determined to do what was best for her father, and she abided by the doctor's instructions, especially when he promised to keep her apprised of her dad's condition.

When the sedatives were finally discontinued and Jack seemed able to think rationally the doctor tried to focus Jack on the events in Afghanistan, the underlying cause of Jack's PTSD. He tried to get Jack to talk about them, not just what he had written about the military action but his feelings about the mission from beginning to end, from parachuting in to when they tried to award Jack a medal that he refused.

Jack tried to start, but soon faltered. Even remembering his objection to jumping into the dangerous landing zone was too much for him, for it brought back memories of knowing that the mission would bring death to his men, for that was how he had always thought of them. He hadn't been in command, but still they were 'his' men. The pain of

re-living it was what the doctor expected for the first time: unbearable. He knew that much more intensive in-patient therapy would be necessary if Jack was to face this.

Chapter 25

The next days followed the same pattern. Jack tried to talk, but even starting overwhelmed him. He couldn't get past the idea that he should have stopped Craigen sooner, not even have let him send the men in, let them jump, when it was so obvious that the mission would be a disaster from the get-go. He, Jack, should have stopped him. That he was a mere lieutenant while Craigen was a captain didn't matter; he should have stopped him. Jack couldn't get past that, and the doctor knew it was useless to try, not until he was stronger. How long that would take, if it would ever happen, that was the question, and the answer was unknown. Unknowable.

Chapter 26

The lack of sleep and nourishing meals – for Jack would only pick at his food – was taking an obvious toll, and the exhaustion the sessions brought meant they had to cut back,. This was obviously detrimental, but there was no way to avoid it. Even with sleeping pills and high-calorie drinks Jack's energy continued to wane, and he seemed to be wasting away. The doctor decided that seeing Kim might be good for Jack, give him a reason to live, but she was so shocked when she saw his appearance that the doctor cut their visit short; she was so visibly distraught that rather than comfort Jack it only made him agitated, yet it was the only thing that brought any sign of response. The doctor didn't know if that was good or bad.

Jack's listlessness at the now-daily sessions brought no breakthroughs; he still couldn't get past what he said was his failure to take over and abort the mission. The only difference was that now he said it without emotion, almost as though he wasn't talking about himself. He spoke like an automaton, and the doctor could see the flame that was at the heart of Jack start to flicker. For the first time the doctor feared for his survival.

Chapter 27

Kim was frightened when the doctor called and asked her to come to his office. She knew that her father was seriously ill, more so than she'd ever suspected, and she didn't know what to expect. As she and Chase drove to the hospital Chase tried to calm and reassure her, but he, too, was at a loss. He'd never seen a broken Jack, and had never thought anything could break him. That Jack was in such a state was frightening to him, too.

The doctor was blunt. "Your father is withdrawing, Kim. He's in a terrible depression, and it's getting worse. I can't reach him through therapy, and anti-depressants won't touch this. He's locked himself away, he's shutting himself down, 'cause that's the only way he can deal with the pain. We have to bring him back, or we're going to lose him."

He paused, for he knew that his next words would frighten them still more. "There's one treatment left to us, and it's extreme, but there's no other option. It's called electro-shock therapy, electro-convulsant therapy. With ECT electrodes are attached to the head, and electric currents are sent to the brain. It stimulates the synapses of the brain, and the purpose is to shock the patient back to reality. There's an extremely serious side effect. As the name indicates it usually causes convulsions. And there's another serious downside, of course. Memory loss. Sometimes it's temporary, sometimes it's not. But I don't see another way. Without it your father will never leave here. He'll never recover." The doctor drew in his breath sharply. "But it may not work."

Kim had never been so frightened in her life. She was losing her father to a place she'd never known existed, yet the doctor was advocating a way of reaching him that sounded even worse. His last words resonated in her ears. It might not work.

Chapter 28

The doctor had told Kim that she didn't have to make up her mind that day, but that a decision couldn't be postponed indefinitely. She didn't sleep, she didn't eat, unknowingly she was imitating the state her father was in as she wrestled with what she knew was the most important decision of her life. She tried to talk it through with Chase, she met with the doctor again, the doctors whose second opinions she requested concurred with the recommendation, and ultimately she decided that she had to consent to the treatment. Her father wasn't just slipping away, he was plunging; he might already have fallen into the abyss.

The doctor wasn't surprised by her decision for he knew that she recognized the direness of Jack's condition, and the ultimate hopelessness of it. But she cried uncontrollably as she signed the consent forms, and Chase had to support her by the elbows as she wrote.

"I know how hard this is for you, Kim," the doctor said, "but I really think it's the right decision. Your dad isn't responding, and there's no other way."

She looked at him with a maturity in her eyes that Chase had never before seen. "I hope to God you're right, Doctor. When will you start?"

"Probably the day after tomorrow," he responded. "We're giving him a full physical now, and he's scheduled for an MRI and brain scan tomorrow. Once we have the results we'll begin the treatments."

Kim winced when she heard the procedure described as a 'treatment;' shocking her father's brain sounded like torture to her, not something gentle or benign. It made her question her decision yet again, but she resolutely stuck with it.

"Can I be here, Doctor?" she asked. "I realize I can't be in the room, but can I see him afterwards?"

"No, Kim, I don't think that would be a good idea. He won't be awake, and if you try to talk to him he'll become agitated. I'll call you when it's over, I promise."

She tried to comfort herself with that, but she knew she wouldn't relax until she got the phone call. She wondered if she'd ever feel comfortable again.

Chapter 29

The seizures began almost immediately after the first treatment. The injection of phenobarbital controlled it, and Jack fell into a deep sleep.

In the morning, when the effects of the pheno had worn off, the doctor searched for a different look on Jack's face, but there was not yet a hoped-for improvement. As expected, Jack looked wan and exhausted and unresponsive. Another treatment was scheduled for later in the week.

Jack continued to go through the motions of eating, still not getting all the nourishment he needed, so he was given the high-calorie, high-protein shakes and puddings that the staff tried to get him to finish. Without enthusiasm Jack ate and drank some of them, at least getting some of what his body needed, both to maintain his strength and to enable him to withstand the treatments that were yet to come.

As with the first ECT there was no immediate response. Jack's lethargy continued, and with each succeeding treatment there was no break in the pattern. After four treatments no further ECTs could be done without causing irreversible brain damage, and Jack became even more unresponsive. He wouldn't talk at all.

The distress was evident on the doctor's face when Kim and Chase entered his office. "I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do," he admitted sadly. Kim had been kept apprised of each treatment, and Jack's lack of response, but hearing the doctor now, hearing the resignation in his voice, the surrender, was like a blow to her gut. It was more than she could bear, and the feelings she had been trying to control for her father's sake broke through.

"You can't give up, doctor. You can't, we can't. There has to be something else you can try, anything. I can't stand to see him like this. Isn't there something else you can do? Some other treatment?" The hysteria in her voice was unmistakable.

"I'm afraid not, Kim. We've tried everything. ECT was the last hope we had, and he just hasn't responded. We can't give him more treatments, and there's nothing left to try. We've exhausted all the possibilities. As hard as it is, you're going to have to accept that he's not going to get better. I'm sorry. I'm very, very sorry."

Chase gripped Kim's hand tightly, feeling her pain as well as his own. It was unthinkable that Jack would be like this forever, but they had to accept that it was true. Jack was lost to them.

Chapter 30

The doctor continued to check on him, of course, and as usual he found that Jack looked overwhelmingly wan and tired. But one day when he checked Jack looked – the doctor searched for the word – different. Pale, but different. Was there something there? Warily, not knowing what to was to come, the doctor started.

"Jack, can you hear me? It's Dr. Logan. I'm here, Jack. Can you look at me?"

Almost imperceptibly, Jack's head moved. He didn't look at the doctor, but the movement was definitely there.

The doctor tried again. "Jack, you've been through a lot, but we're trying to help you. I know you can hear me, and I'm going to be here with you. Take your time, just relax. You've been through a lot, and your mind is going to be foggy for awhile, but it will clear. So just try to take some deep breaths, and listen to your breathing. That's it, that's it. You're doing fine, Jack. I'll stay with you. Keep taking those deep breaths, and you'll relax. You're going to be fine."

Beneath his lids the doctor had seen Jack's eyes, which had begun to move rapidly, almost frantically, begin to slow. He didn't want to give him more sedatives, which he was afraid would send Jack back to the place he needed so desperately to escape, so Dr. Logan was trying to get Jack to use some bio-feedback to calm himself. After a few minutes the deep breaths seemed to come more easily to Jack, and his agitation eased.

When his eyes re-opened the frightened look was gone, but he didn't speak.

"Jack, you're doing fine. I know you're scared, but that's because you've been through so much. We're going to have a lot to talk about, you and I, and you're much too tired to start today, but we will soon. Today I just want you to rest and relax. The nurse will bring you something to eat, and I want you to finish it. You've lost a lot of weight, and you have to get your strength back. When you're stronger we'll be able to do a lot, and we'll work on getting you out of here. I'll be back later. I want you to keep breathing deeply, and concentrate on relaxing. I'll see you later."

When he left the doctor went straight to the nurses' station, and instructed her to check on Jack every 10 minutes and call him if Jack again became agitated. He didn't know how quickly, or what, Jack would begin to remember, and he didn't want to inject him with sedatives or tranquilizers. He wasn't going to call Kim yet. He didn't want to raise false hopes. The apparent improvement in Jack's condition might not last.

Chapter 31

Jack's condition didn't change markedly for the next few days, but he didn't sink back into his near-coma-like state. He ate better and seemed to hear his name, but he didn't speak, and didn't look at anyone who spoke to him.

One day, though, when the doctor came by, Jack looked directly at him. This time, to him, Jack looked – again he searched for the word – expectant.

"Jack, I think it's time we had a talk. You seem stronger to me, and I think we should start again. Not full sessions, you're not up to that yet, but certainly a little at a time. How does that sound to you?"

The most Dr. Logan hoped for was a nod of Jack's head, so he was surprised and pleased to hear Jack say, in a low almost inaudible voice, "All right."

The doctor gave a small smile. "You've been through the wringer, Jack. You've had a very hard time of it, a very serious depression, but you're through the worst of it now. With therapy and medication I think you're going to be okay."

Jack looked at him, waiting for more. He wasn't yet ready to really talk.

"Jack, do you remember when you came here, to the hospital?" The doctor knew that he would have to draw Jack out with questions, a little at a time.

"I – I – I think so. I'm – not sure." His voice wasn't much more than a whisper, and it was hesitant, not surprising for a man whose brain had been scrambled by electric current.

"You were admitted because you had what laypeople call a 'breakdown,' Jack. You couldn't cope with the memories that came to the surface. I think you remember what we were talking about, Jack. Do you? Do you remember?"

The pain that took over Jack's face was like an occupying force; every muscle seemed to constrict as the thoughts took control, squeezing them like a vise, until the pain forced tears to run down his cheeks. Nevertheless he whispered, "Afghanistan." He paused. "Craigen."

He sank deeply into the bed as though he wanted it to swallow him. The tears coursed down his cheeks onto his lips, onto his chin, dripping onto his chest, and he wasn't aware of them. His eyes reflected a pain that all the shocks could never have caused. The pain of remembrance.

Dr. Logan held Jack's hand as the sobs began, and grew into loud, wracking wails that tore at his body until they just couldn't continue anymore, and they tapered off again into muffled sobs, and he fell asleep. The doctor sat with Jack for awhile after that, still holding his hand, feeling so much for this man who was suffering so, and who still had so much pain ahead, if he was to recover.

"God, I hope so," the doctor said to himself. "God, I hope so."

Chapter 32

He had never thought he could feel so exhausted, but that was how Jack felt when he awakened the next morning. He was disoriented at first, not recognizing where he was, and terribly frightened when he realized that he didn't know his name, although that only lasted for a moment, but it was long enough to bring on panic.

The orderly heard the crash and ran in to find Jack climbing out of bed and getting entangled in the sheets before falling hard to the floor. He was surprised that this undernourished man could put up such a fight as he tried first to restrain him and twrestle him back into bed. A male nurse heard the commotion and came to help, and together the two got Jack under control and in restraints.

It was only six in the morning so Dr. Logan was called at home, and by the time he got to the hospital Jack was even more agitated. The restraints had provoked more memories, ones he and Jack hadn't even gotten to explore, and they threatened to put Jack over the edge. A strong shot of valium immediately knocked him out, and the doctor ordered the restraints removed.

The doctor sat sadly at Jack's bedside, wondering how much damage had been done. He knew from Jack, from the files he'd seen, what being restrained would mean to him. He couldn't fault the staff; they'd had no other way of dealing with a patient who was so out of control that he was a danger to himself. Should he have sedated Jack, kept him drugged to prevent this? No, he told himself. That would have been worse. Jack's mind had to be able to clear itself, without drugs, to recover from the treatments before it could deal with the horrors that had necessitated them, and the day before had shown that it had started to do just that. Anything else would have put them – Jack – back at square one.

Chapter 33

Jack was calm when the doctor checked on him later, even without the restraints, and his eyes looked alert although they seemed fixed on the ceiling. The doctor spoke to him in a soft voice after deliberately walking in with a heavy step, for he didn't want to startle Jack.

"How are you feeling now, Jack? You had a hard time this morning. I'm sorry they had to restrain you, but you were having" – the doctor searched for the right words – "you were agitated, and you were pulling out the IV." Again he paused. "You were – you seemed to be having difficulty dealing with things." Jack looked at him and nodded, he appeared to be accepting this although it was so vague, and the doctor was encouraged. He decided to continue.

"You've been through a lot. You've had several treatments of electric shock to your brain to try to bring you out of your depression. The last one was two weeks ago. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

There was a long pause, but finally Jack nodded. It was slight, but it was definitely there. It had been risky, telling Jack about the treatments, but he seemed to have taken i well. Not all patients did

"Do you want to talk about it, Jack? I know news like this can be hard to take, and it might be a good idea to discuss it. If you feel up to it, we can try it."

"Yes," Jack said, almost inaudibly. "Yes."

The doctor sat at his bedside and asked Jack how he was feeling. Not surprisingly, Jack, in a halting voice, said that he had a headache, and the doctor reassured him that it was a result of the treatments, and would go away. He was wary of telling Jack about the convulsions, for he thought that it might be too much for him to absorb at one time. But Jack surprised him again.

"Did I – Did I have a seizure?" Jack asked quietly. "Did I?"

"Yes, you did," the doctor replied. "It was because of the treatments."

"Did it happen more than once? I think it happened a lot. I think I remember that."

"Not a lot, Jack, but you did have several seizures, because of the treatments. That's how the shocks affect the brain. But there's no permanent damage," he tried to reassure him, "they were expected." After a breath he continued, "You should be fine, Jack, they seem to have worked. It looks like you're coming out of it."

Jack looked puzzled. "Coming out of what? I don't understand." Because of the treatments he had no memory of his earlier conversations with the doctor, a common reaction.

"Depression. A very deep depression. That's why we gave you the ECTs. Anti-depressants weren't working, and I couldn't reach you through therapy. The only alternative was the shock treatments. And it looks like they worked."

The look of confusion on Jack's face was replaced by concern, almost fear. "Will it return? The depression, I mean. Will it come back?"

"I don't think so. I think we can deal with it now, with medicine and therapy. In a few days, when you're stronger we can resume your regular therapy sessions, and you're already getting anti-depressants every day. That's what the IV was for and we can discontinue that, but we'll start you on pills by mouth now. You'll probably have to take those for the rest of your life, but the newer drugs don't have side effects you'll need to worry about. While you're here we'll find the right medications with the right dosages, so that when you're discharged we'll have you on the right drug regimen. You may have to have adjustments to your medications from time to time, 'tune-ups,' in effect, but that's normal. And your therapy will continue for a long time, Jack, but that shouldn't be a problem, either. I think you're going to be fine. You're certainly over the worst of it. We can deal with it now."

Jack seemed able, even willing, to accept what the doctor was telling him, and for the first time since their conversation began he appeared to relax. The concept of recovery was sinking in, even though he might possibly have to be in therapy forever. He could be well, and he found that he wanted to be. He didn't think he'd ever wanted that before.

Chapter 34

Jack's exhaustion precluded more detailed conversations for several days after that, until finally the doctor decided that he might be up to a real session.

The doctor helped Jack into his robe, and Jack stood, wobbling a little from weakness as he got out of bed. Holding his arm, the doctor guided Jack down the hall to his office. He was surprised that Jack seemed to get stronger as they walked.

Jack sat in a comfortable chair across from the doctor, no desk between them, and tried to gather his thoughts. He realized that they were scrambled, and that greatly troubled him. He had been shocked by the doctor's words - electric shocks to his brain - and he was still too far out of it to recognize the irony, but he had a lot of questions.

"Electric shocks," he began tentatively. "You gave me electro-shock therapy?"

The doctor wasn't surprised by Jack's apparent memory loss, for that was one of the known side effects of ETC. Jack had known of various types of torture, and ECT wasn't that far removed from some of them. That Jack was discomfited by it – horrified was probably a better word, the doctor thought – was hardly surprising. The doctor would have been troubled if Jack hadn't been.

"Yes, Jack, you were in such a deep depression that that was the only treatment available. We gave you four treatments, but there was no immediate effect. It took a couple of weeks before you responded."

"You said it took a couple of weeks. Do you mean two, exactly?" He wanted a frame of reference. He needed to get a grasp of time.

"Yes, Jack, two. The treatments were spaced at 5-day intervals, and the last one was three. You began responding last week."

"How long have I been here, doctor? In the hospital, I mean."

"Almost three months, Jack. We tried therapy and medication before we started the treatments, but you didn't respond to those. So we had to go to the ETC."

Jack didn't react, so the doctor continued. "You were admitted after you had a breakdown as an out-patient. Do you remember when you and I were meeting in my office?"

Jack was silent a moment before he answered. "Yes," he said quietly, "I remember." He was quiet again. "We were talking about Afghanistan."

There was a long silence while Jack stared at the floor. "I guess we still have to talk about it." He lifted his head to see the doctor nod.

Chapter 35

As the sessions progressed Jack really started to really respond. He began to eat the meals that were brought to him, not finishing them at first, but eating more of each plate until he was finishing what was on the tray, along with the high-calorie, high-protein shakes and puddings he was given. He began to re-gain the weight he had lost and to walk around the hospital floor, doing more 'laps' each day, and his alertness increased along with his physical strength.

The doctor decided that Jack was able to resume their twice-daily sessions, and he gently reminded Jack of their previous conversation. "Jack, the last time we spoke we

went straight to what caused you so much pain. I think we'd better go a little more slowly. Before we go there let's talk a little more about..."

Jack cut him off. "No, doctor. I want to talk about Afghanistan."

The doctor sat back, surprised. "I'm not sure that's the way to go, Jack. In fact, I'm pretty sure it isn't. It's the hardest thing for you to face. Let's take it a bit easier, and build up to it. Let's start somewhere else."

Jack's continued to look at him, and the doctor realized that he had been wrong. The look on Jack's face wasn't expectation, it was determination. For the first time he was seeing the inner strength that had carried this man through the horrors of his life, even though his sub-conscious had always sublimated the mission to block the blame it carried for what happened in Afghanistan.

"I killed Craigen," Jack said softly, the admission twisting his face in pain. "I killed my CO, yet I've never been punished for it. I think that was the hardest part. No one ever blamed me for it, so I've always blamed myself."

The statement rocked the doctor. It was the heart of the problem, and Jack had gone straight to it. This man was fighting to get better, and for the first time the doctor really had hope.

"Why do you think you deserved to be punished, Jack? Do you still think it was wrong?" He waited, knowing that Jack's answer was crucial.

The pause that followed went on for a long time, and Jack wrestled with the answer as never before. Now that his mind had let the mission re-surface, he knew that was the crux of his pain. This was the problem he had to resolve.

"I'm – I'm still not sure," he finally said. "I – I didn't – there was no choice. He was trying to kill me. It was him or me. I'm sure of that. I've faced that before, and I've saved myself before, on other missions, with CTU. Maybe it was because he was my CO, or because it was the first time. I don't know."

He was quiet again, but then he spoke with more assurance. "You know what? I just thought of something. They tried to give me a medal. Do you think that was it? That they told me what I did was great? I certainly never thought so. But the others – my superior officers – they wanted to give me a medal. I thought that was obscene. Do you think that it was? Do you think that was it?" He fell into silence again.

The doctor took his time to answer. He hadn't thought of it, either, but it made some kind of sense. Approval of such an abhorrent act would cause such confusion, go against everything this man believed in, that it might make his mind shut down while it tried to digest it, make sense of it, and finally bury it when it couldn't do either.

"It makes sense to me, but what do you think, Jack? You're the only one who can answer that. What does your gut tell you?"

Chapter 36

In the many sessions that followed Jack talked about the times he had been captured, tortured, the many things that he had endured, but that he'd always minimized, refused to acknowledge, which he now realized he had accepted as his due for what he had done to Craigen and for what he he thought of as letting his men down, letting men die, even though those things had been beyond his control, beyond the abilities of any man to prevent. The demands he had always made upon himself were wrong, the doctor helped him see; he had spent his life punishing himself for what had never been his fault. He had mentally flagellated himself, finally breaking down with guilt, for no one's mind, even one as greatly disciplined and strong as Jack's, could take such torment forever.

He talked more freely after that, telling the doctor of the other disasters that had made up the mission in Afghanistan and the other operations he'd undertaken, both with Special Forces and then on behalf of CTU, re-living the unavoidable failures and the deaths and, with the doctor's prodding the successes and the many, many lives he had saved. Jack had denied himself the pride and the satisfaction the latter had meant, for the disasters, especially Craigen's death, had made him feel that he didn't deserve to feel good about himself. For the first time he began to acknowledge to himself that he had helped people. He understood that he was, in fact, not only a good man, but more than that. He had more than made a difference. The doctor even told him that he was extraordinary.

He had fought that last, embarrassed at the notion, and it was something he would never accept. That was too much, that went against his underlying personality. So be it, the doctor thought. It was enough that Jack knew that he was good. He wasn't a monster. He deserved to live, to have a good life.

He felt a peace that he hadn't known since the innocence of childhood. He was ready to go home.