Richard sat there in his bed, flipping through the grand total of five channels the hospital's television had — hoping he would stumble onto something interesting that would kill his growing boredom.

He had been in the hospital for about a week and was now ready to get the hell out of there. Thankfully, that would be happening soon as the doctors had said that he was recovering extremely quickly, especially for a guy who had jumped from a moving car and fell down a cliff. A fact it seemed every person in Odyssey knew as his hospital room was filled with flowers and get-well cards, which expressed their prayers and best wishes for his recovery as well as their gratitude for the sacrifice he had made.

This kind of care was foreign to him. Never before in his life had others shown this level of concern for him and his well-being. Not even his own parents. But he was angry and upset at their kind actions. Making this only worse was that he was also deeply touched by what they had done. It wasn't that he didn't want to feel those emotions, as though he were some hardened criminal who viewed kindness as weakness, it was that he did. He wanted to feel, even know, that others genuinely cared for him but he couldn't. It wasn't right. They were all such good people, while he couldn't be further from that. Why were they treating him like this? They shouldn't. Not after everything that he had done. He didn't deserve their care or their gratitude. He wasn't some kind of hero. He had only done what he should have in some poor attempt to atone for his mistakes. The cost of what he had done — lying at the bottom of a cliff close to death — was only a small part of the price he deserved to pay for his crimes. He was a criminal and couldn't let these good people show care for a person like him. And the fact that they did only caused his feelings of unworthiness, guilt, and self-hatred to grow.

Besides them being free from their responsibility to him would almost certainly be what they would want. They were probably doing this out of a sense of duty, rather than due to them actually liking him. It had been drilled into him that no one cared or wanted him and no one ever would. That's what he had heard every single day he was with him — Blackgaard.

He had tried to push Blackgaard and everything he had done to the back of his mind. But it was hard. Especially since he had learned of Blackgaard's fate.

He could still remember it now. He was weak and heavily medicated, lying back on the very same bed he was now. Jason had walked into the room, sat down in a chair, and told him all that had happened. He told of how Jack had confronted Blackgaard in the tunnel in an attempt to save his soul, how the bomb had been set off, and lastly how Jack had miraculously survived but that Blackgaard had not been as fortunate as he was killed in the explosion.

That was it. This was supposed to be the end — the closing of a book. Still, to him, it didn't feel like it was. Yes, Blackgaard was no longer a threat — no longer a physical person who could cause death and destruction that could affect others — that could affect him. But he was a presence that continued to haunt him even after he was gone. The impact he had on him and his life remained. He was still making his life a living hell. All the words Blackgaard had said to him. Every insult, every threat, every humiliation was ringing in his head. The memories of all he had gone through because of him playing over and over again in his mind like scenes from a movie.

And so for the last couple of years — ever since Blackgaard had left him to die in that raging inferno — he had made it his mission to track him down. To disrupt any and all plans he had. To be a complete pain in the ass. And to ultimately stop his devious schemes and bring him to justice.

He had gone through so much in an effort to complete his mission. That had been his one and only objective. And his hard work, determination, and dedication had paid off as so far he had been successful in everything he had set out to do — that was until now. He had been so close but in the end, it didn't even matter. His pursuit of Blackgaard was suddenly over. The good doctor had taken the easy way out — never having to answer for the crimes he had committed or for how he had hurt others — for how he had hurt him. Leaving him with nothing but emptiness, bitter hate and anger, and in a twisted sense a bit of sadness over losing the person that, despite his psychological and physical abuse, had at a time served as a mentor and the only father figure he had in his life. It seemed that he was destined to never know any taste of peace.

He was taken out of his thoughts by the sound of a knock on the door. Richard looked toward the direction of the sound and saw Mr. Allen standing in the doorway.

"Hello, Richard," Jack said brightly.

"Hi, Mr. Allen" he replied, turning the television off.

"So how are you feeling?" Jack asked as he approached Richard.

"Not too bad for a guy who jumped out of a moving car" Richard quipped, his response completely in character for him as he was one who would make light of a near-death experience.

They both shared a light chuckle.

"Well, that's good to hear."

"I should be out of here by tomorrow."

"About that. Jason and I were thinking that you should stay with us while you continue to recover."

"Oh no. I couldn't do that." Richard shook his head. They had already done so much for him. He couldn't allow them to do more. "I don't want to be any trouble."

"Believe me, it wouldn't be any inconvenience. We have plenty of room at the house. Jason and I would be happy to have you stay with us."

"I can't."

"Richard, no argument. You're not in any condition to stay by yourself" Jack said firmly. Though the young man tried to hide it Jack knew he was still experiencing a good amount of pain and discomfort caused by his injuries.

As Richard saw the determined expression on Jack's face he could see this was one battle he would not win. "Alright," Richard said, reluctantly agreeing.

"Good."

Richard gave a small smile that faded quickly. Though he was beyond grateful for all Mr. Allen and Jason had done for him, he still was distressed that their help had to be for a person like him.

As Jack sat down in an armchair located close to the bed — preparing to spend some time keeping Richard company — he couldn't help but see the dark clouds that were in the young man's eyes — a sign of the inner turmoil he felt. Between the guilt he felt for his past deeds, the lingering effects of the neglect and abuse he had suffered, and now knowing that Blackgaard was dead, he knew Richard was going through a lot and wanted to help him in some way.

But that wouldn't be an easy task. Richard was extremely guarded and would rarely let others know his true thoughts and feelings. If Jack were to ask him now how he was doing emotionally he knew that he would say he was fine though that was far from being the case.

Another reason why he had wanted Richard to stay with him and Jason is that he hoped in time the young man would begin to open up and talk about what he was feeling — so that they could support him as he tried to find some healing. For now, all anyone could do was be there for him and pray. That would have to be enough.