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Chapter Twelve

Kinda Crazy

5 a.m. was early. Hardly able to keep her eyes open, Kate shuffled around the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug and wondered how Jack was able to stay conscious, and if he wouldn't be more alert at a later time.

She hadn't slept much the night before and knew Sam hadn't either. Fitful through the evening, she'd heard Sam toss and turn in the room across from hers, occasional sighs pouring from his mouth.

He was already dressed when she'd gone in to wake him, and now stood aimlessly in the kitchen while she prepared for a long day at the hospital.

"Least I get to be knocked out," he said, forcing out a chuckle.

Sidetracking his comment, Kate decided to use the opportunity to ask him about his adventure the afternoon before.

"So how was skydiving? All you imagined?"

Sam shook his head. "Scared the hell outta me. There's something not right about jumping out of a plane and expectin' everything to turn out okay."

Kate laughed, secretly happy that he'd taken the chance. Maybe if he survived all of this, he would lead a more active lifestyle. Maybe it would convince him to take advantage of opportunities.

"Well, it worked out, didn't it?"

He nodded. "Maybe this'll work out too. The surgery and everything. Even though we're not expecting it to."

"I'm expecting it to. So is Jack."

Sam's tumor was messy. Though he'd had scans as recently as the day before his operation, when he was opened up on the table, spinal cord exposed, it was worse than Jack expected.

Of course, that was precisely why Kate had pursued the doctor so vigorously; if anyone had a chance of successfully removing Sam's tumor, Jack did.

Sam and Kate were a breath of fresh air in a career filled with faces he could no longer remember. He often feared that he'd run in to a former patient and create an awkward scene while he tried to place them—what procedure he'd done, the result...

But some were worth remembering, and both Kate and Sam fell into the category. And if Sam's operation wasn't a success, they weren't a pair he would push aside into the little section of his brain where the rest of his failures hid. It would stick with him for a long time.

The mass surrounding the upper vertebrae was not the major problem—it was a pretty standard procedure. For three hours he meticulously freed the tumor with minimal complications. Most surgeons with any aptitude could perform the first steps of Sam's surgery, but because the tumor was also intertwined inside the cord, it complicated things immensely.

Inside the cord were what seemed like millions of nerves and support cells, bundled so tightly and so dangerous to toy with. One little slip and Sam could be paralyzed; one moment of distraction and he could be dead; one oversight and Jack could miss some of the tumor.

There was no room for a mistake.

The night before had gone well. He thought Kate had found their embrace just as therapeutic as he did. It had relaxed him regarding Sam's surgery, but it put ideas in his head about Kate. Having her molded against him, warm in his arms, her shallow breathing—how could he get that to happen again?

It was the first advance she'd made, and though she told him not to read too much into it, why else would she have done it? She'd left after they finally pulled apart, shooting him a shy glare. So focused from the start, Kate suddenly had a very human side to her, and Jack didn't know how to react to it. All he offered was a small wave and shut the door after her.

That morning in the lobby, he'd forced himself to look away from the two, but saw the tears on both of their faces, the hope in their eyes and the weight of their expectations on him.

He pushed aside those thoughts, concentrating once again on the task at hand—saving Sam.

An hour later and he'd nicked a group of nerves, cursed and rushed frantically to repair the damage, barking at the scrub nurses. Two additional surgeons joined him and he was thankful for the fresh sets of eyes and steady hands while he navigated through tissue and nerve endings and cut away at the tumor in small pieces.

His colleagues' confidence was waning; Jack had spent a significant amount of time in the same tiny area, trying to untangle part of the mass without disrupting Sam's mobility.

"Have you thought about closing him up and doing an additional surgery? This thing will take hours to get out, if we can even remove all of it. Look at it," Dr. Sullivan said.

Jack surveyed the mass and considered Dr. Sullivan's point. "It's too aggressive. We can't close him up and take the risk that it will spread even more. He's already weak from all the treatments, plus the recovery from the surgery. No," he said firmly, then got the attention of a scrub nurse.

"His daughter's out in the lobby. Around 30, long brown hair. Tell her that everything is going fine—"

"But—"

"Everything is fine. Tell her that."

He glared at Dr. Sullivan. The man had to know that sending Sam away with part of a malignant tumor in an unfavorable location in the spinal cord was a death sentence.

"They came to me for a reason," he started. "They know that I can save him. I'm their last chance," he said, at first wary of sounding egotistical, then deciding what he needed at that moment was a confidence boost. "Now if you don't wanna help me do that, I suggest you leave."

He received nods from both doctors.

"He's dead in a few months if we don't get this thing out of him. I promised him."

Adrenaline surged through him; he thought of the tumor as a series of accomplishments, one after the other, until there was nothing left.

Kate paced the waiting room along with other nervous family members of patients. The last update had come four hours ago, from a scared-looking nurse who hadn't been able to offer much information. When the door swung open, every head in the room snapped in that direction, a room full of people hoping for the best.

It was the same nurse, who asked her to follow her to the back, into the surgical suites. A feeling of dread swept over her; maybe the nurse brought her back here to tell her the bad news. Why wasn't Jack delivering it?

"What happened?" Kate asked, tears filling her eyes.

"He's out of surgery. Dr. Shephard isn't sure that he got all of the tumor. It was a very difficult procedure."

Kate leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees, breathing a sigh of relief, the tears spilling over.

"He's okay?"

"Because he was under sedation for so long and his body was significantly weakened from the chemo and radiation, his vitals were pretty unstable. But he pulled through." The nurse finally cracked a smile and Kate joined in.

"Where's Jack? I mean Dr. Shephard," she corrected herself quickly. "Why isn't he out here?"

If the nurse was surprised by Kate's use of his first name, she didn't let on. "He's exhausted. Said he needed a minute. I'm sure you can go back and see him in a few. And your father."

Sam cracked his eyes open. He must be alive, because he was sure death would feel better than the pain radiating in his body, the heavy cloud of sedation weighing down on him.

Recovery wasn't anything like he watched on medical dramas. No one was there to greet him for his brief moment of conciousness, for one. And he couldn't find one of those fancy buttons to press to get the attention of an unrealistically beautiful nurse.

Maybe he would just go back to sleep.

"Hey," Kate said, startling Jack, where he sat slumped back in an armchair. He turned, sheepish smile on his face.

"Hey."

"When can I see him?" she asked, the tears in her eyes again. She wasn't sure they ever went away.

"He'll be in and out for most of the night. You can go in a few minutes if you want."

"Maybe I'll just peek in. Make sure he's still there."

Jack's laugh came out more like a croak. "I doubt he'll be moving for awhile."

The room was quiet and their moods were calm. Now that the surgery was over, she was unsure of what to say.

"Thank you," she managed, wiping her cheeks, aware that she'd cried more in front of him than anyone else. "I wasn't sure this would work out..."

Jack took the initiative, walking toward her even though his whole body ached and protested.

"I don't even know if I got it all, Kate. It was so damn hard to see, and he'd been under for so long..."

"Do you think you got it all? Just... what was your gut reaction when you closed him up?"

He met her stare, noticing how green her eyes were, thinking how unfortunate it was that the color was because of tears.

Jack knew he wouldn't have stopped unless deep down, he was sure.

"I got it all."

She believed him.

For the second time in less than 24 hours, Kate was in his arms, and it no longer mattered how exhausted he was. She buried her face in his neck, breathing in the man who saved her father, who did something everyone else had told her wasn't worth trying.

Jack found himself getting choked up, relieved that his part was over with, that Sam might just be okay, that now he didn't have to be Jack the surgeon.

"Jack..." she whispered, grasping his shoulders, nuzzling her forehead against his cheek, feeling the scratchy whiskers pressed against her soft skin, drawing in a shaky breath. She was completely overwhelmed. "Without you..."

Accepting her thanks was much easier than denying them. "I'm happy for you," he said. "I would've-- I would've hated to have been the one..."

"Shh," she interrupted him, pressing her index finger to his lips, resisting the magnetism between them as best she could. There was a pull at their faces and she could feel his breath...

"I'm crazy right now, so don't read too much into this either..."

He wanted to pull back when her lips touched his-- softly, so briefly he had to remind himself that it happened-- and tell her she was crazy. But what fun would that be?

Up next: Is Sam really out of the woods? And what was with Kate kissing Jack?!?