Chapter One

Wednesday 1am

He was running down an alley, being chased by Zachary Paulus, who was armed, dangerous, and had nothing to lose if he killed an FBI agent. Jack was running for his life, his gun in his holster, empty. Max Cassidy had set it up but the trap failed. Tyler and Jack were the rookies; two years in, they did all the leg work. Zachery Paulus enjoyed killing young men after torturing them.

Jack broke the case; not sleeping for four days, just sitting at his desk in a sort of stupor; staring at the evidence laid out before him. Tyler was supposed to be the bait; his blonde hair and tanned skin fitting the profile. But Paulus sensed there was something wrong and started shooting. Tyler was shot immediately, falling backwards from the impact to his vest; giving an Oscar-worthy performance as they taught him at Quantico. Paulus moved in on Max even as Jack gave cover fire. Finally, in desperation, after running out of ammunition, Jack goaded him.

"You want a hunt? I'll give you a hunt," he shouted, coming out from behind a dumpster.

Paulus looked at the thin handsome man with the long brown hair, tight jeans, t-shirt under his vest, and smiled as he reloaded his gun. Jack took off, running down the alley as he had been taught in the Army; changing directions, trying not to get shot. He ran out of the alley for the Hill, and in the pitch dark of the moonless night, he started to run down 'C' Street. He heard the footfalls and pings from the bullets hitting near him. Finally, after almost twenty minutes, Jack was beginning to tire. He was ahead of Paulus but not by enough. Running up the steps of the Capital, he heard a voice directed at someone else before he felt the pain.

"Stop, Federal Police."

Jack knew the pain, and as he collapsed onto the white steps of the Capital he heard the shots ring out as the police saw Paulus with his gun drawn.

Jack woke up, sitting up in bed, covered in sweat, shaking, and his left knee was on fire just like it was when he had been shot. He drew a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm before getting out of bed and limping to the guest room, putting most of his weight on his right leg.

"Tyler?"

Tyler woke up immediately when the door opened. He got out of bed quickly and went up to his friend, laying his hands on his shoulders.

"Hey, Malone, jeez you're soaked. Okay, let's get you back to bed."

Tyler helped Jack back to his bedroom, turning on the light before helping him sit on the bed. Jack lay back onto the pillow, his eyes closed. Looking at the knee, the original scar was red and the swelling had returned.

"Just relax, Jack, you're safe."

Slowly, Tyler went to work on the knee, looking at Jack occasionally, knowing that it hurt, but also knowing it was necessary.

"I …I dreamt about that night," Jack said, his voice full of pain.

"I figured. Just relax, think nice thoughts."

2:00am

Jack finally fell asleep as Tyler released the muscle spasm from his knee. Turning out the bedroom light, Tyler reminded himself to call Viv to find out more about the fall.

2:00pm

Jack woke up to his phone ringing.

"Malone."

"Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hi, Viv, it's okay. What's up?"

"Tyler called me this morning and I wanted to check on you. I didn't realize that you had reinjured your knee Monday when Brian attacked you."

Jack paused, still not totally awake.

"I'm fine, Viv."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine," he corrected.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks."

"All right then. Have a nice day off."

"Thanks, bye."

"Bye."

Jack hung up the phone and looked at the clock in semi-disbelief. Slowly he got out of bed and used the toilet. He shook out six aspirins and swallowed them with a quick glass of water. Deciding not to shave, he walked back into the bedroom and changed into a loose pair of chinos and a Chicago Cubs t-shirt that the girls had sent him for Father's Day. He slipped his feet into a pair of driving moccasins and walked to the kitchen. The coffee pot was full and there was a note from Tyler.

Malone,

It's eight and you are out like a light. I hope you find this in the afternoon. I haven't seen you this wiped out in a long time. I'll call you after my last

meeting and touch base.

Tyler

Jack smiled and poured a cup of coffee. Setting it inside the microwave, he set the timer for three minutes and pressed start. He found his empty duffle, the key chain for his storage unit, and pulled out some large garbage bags before the microwave beeped it was done. He filled the duffle with the garbage bags. Carefully taking the cup out, he leaned against the kitchen counter, putting most of his weight on his right leg, and sipped his coffee.

Ten minutes later, he gathered up his keys, sunglasses, cell phone, slipped on an old leather jacket, picked up the full duffle, and left the apartment. The storage area was only ten blocks away, but Jack decided not to risk walking when his knee wasn't 100.

3:30pm

He parked the car in the authorized zone and walked across the street to the storage building. He waved his magnetic entry card and entered through to the elevator area before having to open the roll-up gate to get a cart. Having done so, he waited for the elevator. Jack waved his pass again after getting into the elevator and went up to the ninth floor. Pushing his cart to his unit, he reached into the duffle, removed the keys, and unlocked the small room. He sighed and then started in on the boxes closest to the door. The first box was all clothing. Jack emptied its contents into a garbage bag and set the bag back on the cart. He continued, not thinking, really, just doing it.

7:00pm


The cart was almost full when Jack stretched, cracking his neck and then his back. His knee throbbed but it was manageable. Turning back to the task he saw two boxes with his name on them in his father's handwriting. When his father had moved from his apartment to the assisted living facility, Jack was on a case and had to leave the packing to the moving company. He didn't even supervise the boxes getting to storage. Picking the first box up, he opened it and stood very still. His mother's favorite sweater rested in a clear dry cleaning bag on top. Slowly, he put the top back on the box and set it on the cart. Jack picked up the second box and set it next to the other one. The storage room now contained some furniture and some things of his that he couldn't part with. He looked around, locked the door, and headed for the elevator. Getting to the first floor, he set the cart on the edge of the dock and walked across the street to get his car. Jack backed up and then opened the trunk. His two boxes of treasures were set aside as he filled the trunk with things he could give to the Salvation Army. The other bags and broken down boxes went into the dumpster. Returning the cart to the office area, he put the boxes in the back seat with his empty duffle, got into the car, and drove home.

He was five minutes away when his phone rang.

"Malone,"

"Hi, it's Anne. I'm at your apartment. I was going to surprise you and make you dinner but you surprised me first."

"I'm five minutes away. Would you mind helping me carry up a box to my apartment?"

"Of course not, I'll meet you outside."

"Thanks."

Shutting his phone, he started to concentrate on finding a parking place. He saw a car pulling out at the end of the block and quickly put his turn signal on before negotiating his way into it. Turning off the engine, he slowly got out of the car; the aspirin had completely worn off. He looked up and saw Anne walking towards him. He opened the back door and pulled out the two boxes, setting them on the trunk.

"You look better," she said, putting a hand on his unshaven cheek as she guided him in for a kiss.

"Thanks, I slept 'til two."

"Just these two boxes?"

"Yep."

"Okay," she said, picking up one box, waiting for him.

"You go ahead, my knee is bothering me. It'll take me a while," Jack said, picking up the other box and the empty duffle.

Anne leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips before walking up the stairs to the outside door. She could hear him groaning softly at every step. Ten minutes later, they were both in the apartment. Jack hung up his coat and set his keys and phone in the dish. Anne moved the boxes to the small dining table as Jack retreated to his bedroom. The phone rang.

"Could you get that?"

"Sure, hello, Malone residence."

"Hi, Annie, it's Tyler."

"Hi, Tyler."

"How's Jack?"

"I'm not sure. He told me he woke up at two this afternoon and that his knee hurts."

"Annie, I hate to be blunt, but I was staying in the guest room. Would you rather I go somewhere else tonight?"

"No, of course not. Do we need to count you in on dinner plans?"

"Unfortunately for me, no. The day is blown to hell and I suspect that dinner, if at all, will be very late."

"Take care, Tyler."

"I will, Annie. Bye."

"Bye," she said, setting the phone back into the cradle.

Jack walked out of his bedroom slowly, favoring his left leg.

"That was Tyler. He asked about you and then made sure that he wasn't going to cramp your style."

"Ah, always considerate," Jack said, slipping his hands around her waist.

"Oh, yes, definitely. He will not be joining us for dinner."

"Excellent," Jack replied, leaning in to kiss her.

Anne shifted her weight and he lost his balance, forcing most of his weight on his left leg. Grasping for the breakfast bar, he stood solely on his right leg, Jack just shut his eyes, trying to breathe through the pain.

"I'm sorry, are you okay?" she asked, holding his upper arms tightly.

"Yeah, just, just help me sit down on the sofa."

Anne put her arm around his waist as they walked to the sofa. He slowly sat down, trying not to bend his left knee too much. He leaned back, eyes closed, breathing through the pain. Touching his hand, Anne squeezed it, feeling him squeeze back. After five minutes, Jack's breathing evened out and she carefully stood up to go to the kitchen. She poured him a strong scotch and set it on the coffee table before walking back to the kitchen to start dinner.

As the pain diminished to a dull throb, Jack opened his eyes and saw the dark glass of scotch. He picked it up and took a big sip, followed by another one. The liquid burned slightly as he swallowed it but it was taking the edge off and he felt better afterwards. He heard Anne's voice in the kitchen as she sang softly to herself while she was cooking. Jack looked at the dining room table and saw the two boxes from storage. With some effort, he stood, walking to the table to move the boxes closer to the sofa. He opened the first box and saw some photographs on the top. Setting the lid back on, he opened the second box. Jack sat on the sofa, stretching his left leg out under the coffee table and reached for his mother's sweater. He opened the sealed plastic bag and smelled her. It had been thirty years, but her perfume was embedded in the fibers. Jack sat back on the sofa, the sweater against his face and tried to remember her. Anne walked in to check on him and sat on the sofa, her leg underneath her, facing him.

Silently, she put her hand to the back of his neck and pulled ever so slightly. He fell against her, all defenses down as the strong sensory contact reminded him of that fall day. He held her tightly.

After a time, he started to slow down and then sat back on the sofa, holding the sweater tightly. She brushed his hair back, and kissed his forehead before checking on dinner. Slowly, he folded the sweater and placed it in the plastic bag, sealing it tightly. Setting that aside, he sat up, wiped his face on the edge of his t-shirt and looked into the box. In the left corner was a small box. He picked it up and opened it; it was his mother's crucifix. The chain was broken, but the gold cross gleamed. She had told him her father gave it to her after her confirmation. Jack ran his thumb over the engraving, trying to divine something from it. He undid the chain around his neck. Carefully, he slipped the crucifix onto the chain next to St. Jude. He put it back around his neck and redid the clasp before slipping it under his shirt. Taking a mouthful of his scotch, he drifted for a moment.

"Jack, dinner's ready. Would you set the table?"

"Sure."

Jack put the lid back on the box and set it on top of the other one. He stood carefully and walked to the cabinet to remove two placemats. Setting them on the table, he walked into the kitchen and took out the silverware and two paper napkins. Placing them on the table, he picked up his scotch and walked into the kitchen.

"Would you like some wine with dinner?" he asked.

"Yes, please."

Noting that it was salmon as Anne took it from the oven, he walked to the fridge and pulled out a chilled sauvignon blanc. He removed two glasses from the cabinet and walked slowly back into the living room. The wine was from New Zealand and had a pressurized screw top rather than a cork, so he opened it easily. He poured their glasses and waited as Anne walked in with dinner.

"Maple salmon with rice and green beans."

"It looks terrific," he said, kissing her quickly on the cheek before sitting down.

Sitting down herself, she couldn't help but notice his discomfort.

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

"No, I just need Tyler to do his magic," Jack replied and then told her the story of his original injury.

"You got shot playing decoy so Max could get away?"

"That wasn't my plan but that's what ended up happening."

They sat in silence, enjoying their dinner. Finally, Jack sat back and looked at her.

"The sweater…the sweater belonged to my mother. It was her favorite and…and it smelled of her perfume."

Anne reached across the table for his hand and he grabbed for it, holding tight.

"My mother committed suicide when I was sixteen. I guess my father kept some of her stuff, I didn't know, I just found this, and it threw me. I just…I just miss her, sometimes."

"It's okay, I understand," she said, squeezing his hand in support.

They finished dinner in silence and took the dirty dishes to the kitchen before taking their glasses and resettling on the sofa. Jack cautiously landed his left leg on the coffee table, slipping a pillow under the knee and leaned back, his head resting on the cushion. Anne sat quietly sipping her wine and holding his hand, rubbing her thumb over the calluses. Slowly his eyelids dropped and his hand went slack in hers. His empty wine glass remained upright on the firm cushion. She stood and picked up their glasses and went to the kitchen to rinse the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Ten minutes later, she was finished and she walked back into the living room. Jack was still asleep. Anne looked at her watch. She hadn't planned on spending the night. Walking to the breakfast bar, she picked up the pen and wrote him a quick note.

Dear Jack,

You're asleep and I won't wake you. I have an early meeting tomorrow. I

just hadn't planned on spending the night. Call me, please?

Anne

Her first appointment was at eight and she still had work to do beforehand, so she kissed his cheek, grabbed her coat and purse, and left the apartment.

Thursday 1:00am

Tyler unlocked the door and walked into Jack's apartment. He stopped for a moment, seeing Jack sitting on the sofa looking through the contents of a box.

"Hey," Jack greeted softly.

"Hey, what are you doing up?" Tyler said, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

"I couldn't stay asleep."

Tyler saw the empty rocks glass amidst the clutter and walked to the kitchen. He pulled a glass from the cabinet, filled it with ice, picked up the bottle of scotch, and headed back into the living room. Clearing off a section of the table, he put down the glass and the bottle and sat down heavily.

"Long day?" Jack asked, looking at his friend.

"Yeah, I hate this bureaucratic bullshit."

Tyler poured half the ice into Jack's glass and then filled them both amply with scotch. He took a sip and then looked at the stuff spread out on the coffee table. There were two framed photos of whom he presumed was a young Jack and his mother set aside on the corner of the table, several manila envelopes, three velvet boxes, three thin green folders, four track trophies, and a stack of loose photos and papers.

"This from storage?"

"Yeah, my old man saved this stuff for me. One box is full of my mother's things and one is full of mine."

"What's in the velvet boxes?"

"Look for yourself," Jack replied, sitting back with his scotch.

Tyler leaned over and picked up the first one. He opened it looked at the contents and set it, still open, on the table. He then opened the second one, and did the same thing. When he opened the third one, he just looked at Jack, who appeared to be studying his scotch.

"Are these your father's?

"No, they're mine."

"A Bronze star, a Silver Star, and a Purple Heart; that's impressive."

Jack remained quiet but repositioned himself to get to his feet. He'd been sitting there since Anne left at ten and his knee had stiffened up considerably. Grasping the arm of the sofa he stretched his leg while Tyler took a sip of his drink. Limping off to his bedroom, Jack continued to the bathroom and ran cold water over his face. He opened the medicine cabinet and again looked at the prescription bottle before shaking the aspirin out of the large white bottle on the countertop. He took them two at a time with water and waited a few minutes before walking to his closet to change out of his trousers and into a pair of shorts.

By the time he got back to the living room, Tyler had opened the leather folders and read the commendations.

"Feel better?"

"Maybe when the aspirin kicks in," Jack replied sitting on the leather chair.

Tyler walked to the kitchen and took the ice pack out of the freezer. He wrapped it in a kitchen towel and brought it back with him, carefully laying it on Jack's knee.

"Tell me when you want me to work on it again."

"Again?" Jack looked over to him.

"Yeah, you woke me up at one this morning. You dreamt about the shooting at The Capital. You don't remember?"

"Not at all."

"You were in a lot of pain. I got you back to bed and worked on your knee for an hour or so."

Jack looked at his watch and realized it was almost two. He sighed and waited another ten minutes for the ice and aspirin to take effect.

2:15am

"Jack, I've got to go to bed," Tyler said, slowly getting to his feet.

"Night," Jack said, not moving from his chair, but setting aside the ice pack.

"Come on, Malone. Even you need sleep, sometimes."

Jack stretched his arm up and Tyler pulled him to his feet, holding onto his shoulders until he was stable. They walked back to their respective bedrooms.

"Night."

"Night."

Jack shut the door behind him and walked in darkness to his bed. He lay down, putting the extra pillow under his knee, and quickly fell asleep. With his sleep came his dreams. They were vivid, in color, and exhausting until he woke himself up. Looking at the clock beside his bed, he noted that he had slept a little over an hour. Feeling anything but rested, he knew he didn't want to try to go back to sleep because of his dreams. He got out of bed and got ready for work.