Triggers, Missing Daddy & Die Bastard Die

Cross Country Skiing on Access Road to General Store

Scott locked in his ski boots and set out against the wind. It was only fifteen miles he told himself. If professional skiers could make it in an hour then he could make it in two. The snow swirled around him with great speed. It was good that the polarized sunglasses fit under his snow goggles they clarified his vision even in the lower light.

After twenty minutes of moving Scott had to readjust his time table. He concluded those professionals made that time in the best conditions. He had been working hard against gale force winds and only made it two miles so far. At this rate it would take three to four hours. And that was if his stamina held out.

As he skied he kept thoughts of Sam in the forefront of his mind. He could do this for Sam. Sam would do it for him without hesitation. Scott was beginning to understand Sam's psyche a bit more.

He always knew Sam got an extra dose of protectiveness in his Braddock genes. But now that he and Laura had Jerrell and Anna, Scott found his protectiveness jump a huge notch and was now probably nearly as high as Sam's. Scott would now risk anything for those he loved. He could not imagine losing Laura, Anna or Jerrell if he had the power to try and help them even if it meant risking his own life. The birth of his children was his catalyst and that protectiveness extended to all those he loved.

Scott now also saw that Sam's actions were driven by two major psychological triggers. They were a fear of being physically unable to protect those he loves and fear of abandonment. Both Scott believed stemmed from the loss of Sara. The impact had been profound on the tender young boy. Sam had been unable to save Sara and as a result he felt abandoned. Even though that abandonment was not real it was how Sam's child mind stitched together things after the shock of what he had witnessed.

As an adult, Scott could imagine the horror of being right next to Sara and having her little hand ripped from his. Being left whole and unharmed while your little sister was dead and bloody laying a few feet from you. Yeah that would twist a mind, even an adult's mind.

Scott reasoned that those psychological triggers drove Sam to take what most others thought were unacceptable risks. But he could now see that Sam weighed the risk differently than everyone else. He saw that because he was now doing the same damned thing and nothing could get him to change his mind. Scott was willing to risk life and limb to get Sam help. He would rather die trying than not try at all. Just like Sam.

He was getting fatigued and needed a break. Scott wondered how much further he had gotten. Checking his watch he saw he had been skiing for forty minutes now. He looked around for a place to take shelter from the wind for a short rest.

A small sigh of relief escaped when he saw the snow covered shape of the SUV. He decided to head down to it. He pulled out the small collapsible snow shovel and dug out enough snow to open the door. He unlatched his boots from his skis and placed both skis and poles against the SUV.

Scott opened the door and slipped in. As he sat in the SUV out of the wind his hand automatically went to his front pocket. He grinned. Out of habit he had put the keys in his pocket. Scott started it and turned the heater on full blast. As soon as it was warm he pulled off his gloves and face mask.

Pulling out the thermos Scott drank a bit of the broth. He capped it quickly to retain the heat. Then he ate two of the power bars and washed it down with a bottle of water.

Scott crawled around the back of the SUV and finally found Sam's antibiotic and the aspirin under the back seat. He also found Spike's first aid kit and a bag of trail mix. He shoved three items into the backpack. Then he laid on the backseat and opened the trail mix. He consumed half the bag as he comtemplated whether he should return with the antibiotics or continue on to the general store.

After ten minutes he turned off the SUV and headed back out into the storm. It had been a tough decision to weigh. But Scott decided Sam needed more help than just the antibiotics. As he clicked his boots into his skis Scott thought one third of the way down, two thirds to go.

Scott's Home

Laura paced the room lightly bouncing two inconsolable babies. They had been crying for a solid forty minutes now. Anna's cry had woken her up. Jerrell started in then too. She had tried everything. They were dry, not hungry and not feverish.

She had checked them over looking for anything that would cause it. She reviewed what she had eaten in the past few days. Laura had consumed nothing that had made them colicky in the past.

Their cries were heartbreaking and she was at a loss for what to do. She tried singing to them. Talking softly. Rocking. And now she was pacing and bouncing them. Nothing was working.

Laura had to use the restroom badly now. She set Jerrell and Anna on the center of her bed and surrounded them with pillows. She grabbed Scott's sleep shirt from where it had been tucked under his pillow and covered them both quickly. Then she hurried to the bathroom.

She rushed through her business and washed her hands quickly. When she shut off the water that was when she registered silence. Laura raced from the bathroom with dripping wet hands wringing them dry in the towel thinking something bad happened to her babies. They were silent. Oh god she should have put them in their basinets.

Laura stopped abruptly at the foot of the bed. Both babies had somehow fisted their little hands in Scott's shirt and brought it to their faces. They were cooing softly. Laura wept silent tears at the endearing sight.

They were missing their daddy. Scott's shirt smelled like him. He wore it when he rocked them every night. She wiped her eyes and scooped them up into her arms taking the shirt with her. Laura sat in the rocking chair and rocked them to sleep nestled in their daddy's shirt.

Laura hoped Scott would call today. The twins were not the only ones missing Scott.

Remote Mountain Cabin – Main Room

Spike had run out of snow in the bucket but Sam's fever was still raging. For the last three hours Sam had come in and out of consciousness and awareness. When he was aware Spike got him to sip small amounts of broth. He figured it served two purposes. It was liquid that would sate Sam's thirst and it was getting some nutrients in him too. With the fever and infection Sam's body had to be burning through calories like a steam engine burned through coal.

Standing and stretching his back Spike picked up the sopping towels and went to the bathroom to wring them out. It felt like the hundredth time. But Spike was not really counting. When he finished he took the bucket to the door and shoveled more snow into it.

He saw that more snow had replaced what he had shoveled out this morning. After he packed more snow around Sam he would have to shovel it out again. He needed to keep the entrance clear.

An hour later Spike was exhausted. He had shoveled the entire entrance and dumped all the snow in the shower. Having the door open that long had cooled the cabin way down. It had in fact helped with Sam's fever a bit. He had kept the fire roaring though.

Spike went to the kitchen and poured himself more coffee and filled a bowl with the stew he was keeping hot. He downed the stew quickly and then went to check on Sam again. He had been still for a long time. Spike's hand brushed over Sam's forehead. Still way too hot.

Sam's eyes flicked open as he felt something cool on his forehead. Things were blurry and he saw black hair. He barely rasped out "Spike?"

"I'm right here Sam" Spike said as he wiped Sam's forehead. "How about you drink a bit for me?" He set the rag down and picked up the cup of broth. Spike tipped it so a little dribbled into Sam's mouth.

Sam tried to swallow. It was difficult. "Scott?" Sam asked.

Spike answered Sam the same as he had done everything Sam asked about Scott. Sam could not seem to remember from waking to waking "Scott went for help. He will be back soon. You are gonna be alright."

Sam shook his head slowly "No. Too bad. Too fast."

Spike's face contorted in anger as he said firmly "You do not give up Sam. I'm telling you that you will be alright. You cannot give up. I'm not letting you go. You hear me I'm not letting you go. You are staying here whether you like it or not. I won't let you die. You will not escape that easy."

Sam slipped unconscious again.

Spike could not stop the angry tears that ran down his face "Dammit Sam you cannot give up. Please don't give up. Fight buddy fight with all you've got."

He looked at the wound again. It was red, swollen and continued to seep foul smelling pus. He had cleaned it over and over again. The red streaks extending from the wound were getting longer.

It was another half hour before Sam stirred again and opened his eyes. Spike was quickly on his knees and by Sam's side. He placed his hand on Sam's forehead again. Shit his fever was raging even more now. It was time for more snow.

Spike was about to speak to Sam and tell him what he was going to do when Sam's arms shot up and his hands wrapped around his throat. Sam's grip was surprisingly strong. Spike gasped for breath as his hands flew to his neck and tried to pry Sam's hands off. His vision was graying at the edges under the crushing grip.

When Sam's eyes opened he saw the terrorist. The one that tortured him for months. The one that tricked him with pity every time. The one that would not let him die. The bastard was so close now. He was not restrained. It was his only chance to get away. His arms shot out and grabbed the bastard by the neck and squeezed with all the energy he had left.

Sam's voice came out hoarse and raspy because he never was given water and only got some from the daily waterboarding "Die bastard. Die."