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Title: Necessary Sacrifices 6/6
Fandom: SG1
Characters: All of them
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 53,110
Warnings/Spoilers: Mentions of episodes through the 4th Season
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary/Notes: Col. Jack O'Neill blacks out the base and then promptly disappears. What is Jack planning and what is he willing to sacrifice in order to accomplish that plan? Can the team find Jack before it's too late? What if it's already too late?
Necessary Sacrifices: Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6
General Hammond let the quiet of the infirmary wash over him. It was almost five in the morning and the room was quiet for the first time since they'd brought Jack back through the gate. Dr. Fraiser had explained everything she'd had to do to stabilize the wounded man and Hammond again appreciated Janet's ability to make med-speak comprehensible to the average officer. It'd been a very near thing with Jack this time and she'd credited his reckless application of field medicine for saving his life. As it was, it would take several days before they knew if there was any lasting damage from the infections and several more after that to make sure the medication hadn't caused any harm.
Jack tossed in the bed next to him and Hammond reached over and smoothed the blankets. He still had to decide on how to handle this whole mess. There were about a hundred different reports to fill out, requisitions to justify and personnel expenses to account for. The search for Jack had stretched far outside normal SGC authority. Some of Kinsey's bloodhounds had already been sniffing around and if the Senator couldn't bring down the SGC over this, he'd gladly settle for Jack.
Then there was the problem of Jack, himself. No matter how successful the mission had been, the colonel's habit of breaking regs needed to be addressed. What annoyed Hammond the most was that he knew Jack would accept whatever punishment he ordered without a word of protest or thought of argument. Jack was so secure in his belief that what he did was just and necessary that he would accept any sacrifice demanded of him. The very thing that made Jack an irreplaceable member of the SGC also made him the most infuriating. It was almost enough to drive a general into retirement.
A movement at the door caught his attention and he smiled to see the rest of SG-1 walk into the infirmary. They pulled up short when they saw him.
"I believe I ordered the three of you to get some rest?" That had been a little over an hour ago.
"Yes, sir." Sam stood in place and looked as if she'd like to bolt.
Daniel shrugged and continued to walk to Jack's bedside. "Janet said that the sedative would wear off about now."
Sam waited until Teal'c followed Daniel, then she, too, walked over to Jack. "We wanted to be here when he woke up, sir."
"I wouldn't have expected anything else." Hammond gestured to the three seats that waited on the other side of Jack's bed. "He's been showing signs of coming around."
"He still looks like hell, doesn't he?"
Hammond nodded. The bruises that covered Jack stood in stark contrast to his pale skin and white bandages. An IV was attached to his arm and an oxygen tube sat under his nose. His injured knee and cracked ribs were wrapped. Worst, were the infected wounds. Even the smallest nick was raw and inflamed. Janet had closed some of them, but most needed to be drained regularly. The smell of the infection had almost disappeared, for which Hammond was deeply grateful. When they had first brought Jack through the gate, he had barely held it together.
"Did Janet say how much longer she was going to keep him on oxygen?" Daniel asked.
"No. But she did say it was just a precaution. She believes that he had a collapsed lung. The x-rays showed a small pocket of air in his left chest. When she removed it, she noticed a small puncture wound. She thinks it was caused when he removed the air from his chest cavity."
"The colonel did that by himself?"
Hammond shrugged. There was very little that Jack did that could surprise him anymore. "She can't be completely sure, but it's a good guess."
"It hurt like hell, too." Jack's voice, little more than a whisper, drew their attention to him.
"Sir."
"Jack."
"O'Neill."
Jack blinked at his team.
"I had a dream," Jack rasped out. "And you were there, and you were there, and you were there." He waved weakly at each of his teammates, but stopped when he saw Hammond. "You weren't. Sorry, sir. Maybe next time."
"There better not be a next time, Colonel."
"Ah, right." Jack closed his eyes only to open them a second later. He searched for Hammond again.
"How. . . no virus?"
"That's a long story, Jack, and one that can wait until later. You need to rest now. You're going to need all your strength to face the disciplinary fallout from this little escapade."
"I resigned, sir."
Hammond scoffed. "You're not getting off the hook that easy, son."
"Whatever you say, sir." Jack managed a small smile. "I was really looking forward to doing some fishing." He faded off.
"Don't keep him up too long, people." He stood and smiled at them to soften the order. "I have paperwork waiting in my office."
Hammond walked to the exit, then stopped and turned to look at Jack. The colonel's eyes were open again and SG-1 leaned in to hear what he said. Hammond shook his head at the man's stubborn tenacity. Jack O'Neill was obstinate and independent. He'd never admit to defeat and he'd never accept failure. He was cynical, sarcastic and infuriating. He was the type of airman that kept some of the upper brass from sleeping for fear that his integrity would ruin all their careers.
General Hammond wouldn't have it any other way.
***
Jack tugged on his pants and enjoyed the feel of human clothes after a week of hospital gowns. His cuts were healing, his ribs only ached occasionally and his knee hadn't needed surgery. Janet had announced that his last blood work showed that the infection had been eliminated and she'd removed the intravenous antibiotics that she'd pumped into him ever since she'd first appeared at his side. The past few meals he'd even been fed what passed for real food, and Jack had taken that as his cue to leave.
He'd asked Teal'c to bring his clothes down the last time the Jaffa visited. Teal'c complied with the request and concealed the contraband in a bag of magazines. Jack waited for the end of the day shift and sat through General Hammond's nightly 'chew-out-Jack-just-before-going-home' lecture. His fears that this mission would make him an outcast at the SGC had been as unfounded as his belief that his team couldn't find him. His exploits were the talk of the base, and most everyone admired the deft way he'd executed his plan. General Hammond, in an effort to demonstrate that he, at least, didn't appreciate being outmaneuvered, had lined up enough training, paperwork and disciplinary tedium to keep Jack busy for months. Jack was glad to submit to the punishment if it meant the general would tear up his resignation letter.
Shirt in hand, he checked to make sure that no one was around. Then he picked up his shoes and soft-footed it across the infirmary. He wasn't sure how his team felt about everything, but they'd visited him regularly during his recovery. It felt good when they were around, though, and that was always a good sign. The door of the infirmary was two steps away when he heard the sound of heels behind him. He froze. The shoes clicked to a stop.
"Colonel O'Neill."
Jack dropped his hand from the door and turned to face Janet. He gave her his best nonchalant look as he slipped his shirt on. "Yes?" He hoped that he buttoned it up right, but he didn't want to check for fear that the sign of weakness would give her a reason to make him stay. Not that she needed one.
"Colonel, I don't believe that I've released you from the infirmary, yet."
Jack finished with the last button. "I'm releasing myself, Doc."
"You're not qualified to make that decision, sir, even if you did do a passable job of patching yourself up in the field."
Janet had spent a great deal of time outlining every single mistake he had made in his medical attempts. In her estimation, he should have been dead twice over and she had wanted to sign him up for an entire regiment of advanced medic training, so that he could do it right 'next time'. When he'd protested that there would never be a 'next time', she'd actually laughed. That evening, the general had added the program to his list of penance that Jack would have to complete.
"It's been a week, Doc," he said, fixing her with his most authoritative glare. It only had a ten-percent chance of working he knew, but he'd be damned if he'd stay cooped up in this torture chamber any longer. "Everything's great, you said so yourself this afternoon."
"In order for everything to stay great, you need to continue to rest."
"I can do that at home better than here."
"You are in no shape to be driving home, Colonel."
"How 'bout if I drive him home?" Daniel appeared from behind the infirmary doors.
Janet eyed him. "It's kind of late for you to be here, Daniel."
"I got caught up in some research and time got away from me. I thought I'd check in on Jack before I headed home." Daniel was all innocence. "If he can be released, I can drive him home. I'll even make sure that he takes his pills and stays away from alcohol."
Janet stood, hands on her hips, and studied them. "He'll need someone to check on him in the morning and he'll have to be back here tomorrow afternoon for me to run the blood work again."
Yes! Jack refrained from pumping his fist in the air.
Janet's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "If you don't take your pills, Colonel, I'll strap you to that bed and poke you with the largest needles I can find. Do we understand each other?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Jack snapped a salute at her and hoped that she couldn't see how much it hurt to do so.
She shook her head and muttered something insubordinate under her breath. "I'll get your medication and sign you out. You will need to put on your shoes and wear a coat. It's cold out there tonight."
As she walked away, Jack sat and put on his shoes. His knee didn't hurt at all when he bent it. "Thanks, Daniel."
The archeologist shrugged. "I'm amazed you lasted this long."
Janet returned with a bottle of pills. "Follow the instructions, sir, or--"
"I know, I know," Jack interrupted. "Be a good boy or you'll get to be the Marquis de Sade." He smiled at her to let her know he'd do his best and she smiled back at him.
"Good night, sir. Daniel." She headed back to her office as Jack and Daniel pushed through the infirmary doors. Sam and Teal'c waited in the hall.
"Carter! T!" Jack grinned so hard that it caused the scabs on his face to hurt. "Working late, too?"
"Actually, sir." Carter looked around, "Teal'c mentioned that you requested your clothes, and we thought that you might need some help to get out." She handed him his leather jacket.
"Excellent." Jack shrugged into his coat and walked with his team down the hall. "Thanks for the rescue. Again."
"Anytime, sir."
"Indeed."
They stopped at the elevator and Jack leaned into the up button.
"We also have this for you." Sam handed him a book-sized gift.
"What's this?"
"You will need to open it to discover that, O'Neill."
Jack hoisted it suspiciously and glared at Daniel. "It's not a book about failing agriculture, is it? I don't need another paperweight."
"Just open the gift, sir."
Jack ripped open the paper to reveal a box with the words "Fredrikson's Woodworking" on it. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. The team piled in as Jack pulled the cover off. A dark mahogany plaque sat nestled in tissue paper, and a snapshot of Sam, Daniel and Teal'c smiled up at him from beneath layers of clear varnish. Underneath were carved the words: Your team. Don't leave home without them.
It took Jack a moment to find his voice only to discover he didn't know what to say. The elevator stopped at the ground floor and the doors opened. They were halfway to the guard post when Jack stopped. The others turned back to him, concern plain on their faces.
"I didn't want to, I mean, I didn't see any reason to. . ." The words jumbled in his head but he needed them to understand. "It's not that I don't. . ." He needed them to know that they were important to him. He needed them to understand how much it cost him to leave them behind. "I just couldn't see any other way."
"We know, sir.
"We should warn you, though," Daniel said, "the next time you run off without telling us and we have to track you down on the other side of known space, we're going to kick your butt no matter how sick you are."
Jack grinned at them. "Deal."
"Now, is there anything else?"
Jack shook his head. "Nope." He replaced the cover on the box. "I just wish I would have taped The Simpsons. It was the Halloween special."
"We got that covered, sir."
"You do? You taped The Simpsons for me?"
"Indeed. Daniel Jackson believed that you would wish to view it upon your return."
"By now it's got that one and the latest episode, too," Daniel said.
Jack was touched. After everything he'd done, they'd still taped The Simpsons for him. "This calls for a celebration. We can order pizza and make a night of it. We'll have to pick up something to drink."
"No beer, Jack."
Jack frowned. "Fine, no beer. However, my cupboards are bare and the poor dog will need a bone."
"You do not possess a domesticated canine, O'Neill."
"It's a nursery rhyme, T."
"Poems, for young children," Daniel added, "told to entertain or teach a lesson. Interestingly, they are usually based around gruesome or traumatic events."
Jack was content to let Daniel explain the purpose and history of nursery rhymes as they continued past the guard. He'd thought that he'd have to leave everything he loved behind, to start over with only memories of lost happiness. He'd done it before; he could do it again.
The cold November air swirled into the SGC as they walked out. Jack took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. Daniel had just recited Three Blind Mice and Teal'c found an inordinate amount of humor in the rhyme. He had Daniel repeat the song three times and laughed harder each time. Jack shot a puzzled look over at Sam who shrugged. Jaffa humor was as big a mystery as Jaffa revenge. The big man's laughter was low and infectious. By the time he recited the rhyme back to them, his deep voice adding an ironic seriousness to the words, they all were in tears. They laughed until they had no air, and then they grinned at each other not at all sure what they'd been laughing about.
Jack took one more gulp of air and he hiccupped. Sam giggled and another bout of laughter followed. It felt good to laugh. It felt impossibly good to be here with his team, laughing. The warmth of camaraderie wrapped around him and the gift was a pleasant weight in his hand. Jack knew how lucky he was to have these friends. How lucky he was to be here with his team, his family. Never leave home without them.
He didn't plan to.
Fandom: SG1
Characters: All of them
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 53,110
Warnings/Spoilers: Mentions of episodes through the 4th Season
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Summary/Notes: Col. Jack O'Neill blacks out the base and then promptly disappears. What is Jack planning and what is he willing to sacrifice in order to accomplish that plan? Can the team find Jack before it's too late? What if it's already too late?
Necessary Sacrifices: Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 -- Part 5 -- Part 6
General Hammond let the quiet of the infirmary wash over him. It was almost five in the morning and the room was quiet for the first time since they'd brought Jack back through the gate. Dr. Fraiser had explained everything she'd had to do to stabilize the wounded man and Hammond again appreciated Janet's ability to make med-speak comprehensible to the average officer. It'd been a very near thing with Jack this time and she'd credited his reckless application of field medicine for saving his life. As it was, it would take several days before they knew if there was any lasting damage from the infections and several more after that to make sure the medication hadn't caused any harm.
Jack tossed in the bed next to him and Hammond reached over and smoothed the blankets. He still had to decide on how to handle this whole mess. There were about a hundred different reports to fill out, requisitions to justify and personnel expenses to account for. The search for Jack had stretched far outside normal SGC authority. Some of Kinsey's bloodhounds had already been sniffing around and if the Senator couldn't bring down the SGC over this, he'd gladly settle for Jack.
Then there was the problem of Jack, himself. No matter how successful the mission had been, the colonel's habit of breaking regs needed to be addressed. What annoyed Hammond the most was that he knew Jack would accept whatever punishment he ordered without a word of protest or thought of argument. Jack was so secure in his belief that what he did was just and necessary that he would accept any sacrifice demanded of him. The very thing that made Jack an irreplaceable member of the SGC also made him the most infuriating. It was almost enough to drive a general into retirement.
A movement at the door caught his attention and he smiled to see the rest of SG-1 walk into the infirmary. They pulled up short when they saw him.
"I believe I ordered the three of you to get some rest?" That had been a little over an hour ago.
"Yes, sir." Sam stood in place and looked as if she'd like to bolt.
Daniel shrugged and continued to walk to Jack's bedside. "Janet said that the sedative would wear off about now."
Sam waited until Teal'c followed Daniel, then she, too, walked over to Jack. "We wanted to be here when he woke up, sir."
"I wouldn't have expected anything else." Hammond gestured to the three seats that waited on the other side of Jack's bed. "He's been showing signs of coming around."
"He still looks like hell, doesn't he?"
Hammond nodded. The bruises that covered Jack stood in stark contrast to his pale skin and white bandages. An IV was attached to his arm and an oxygen tube sat under his nose. His injured knee and cracked ribs were wrapped. Worst, were the infected wounds. Even the smallest nick was raw and inflamed. Janet had closed some of them, but most needed to be drained regularly. The smell of the infection had almost disappeared, for which Hammond was deeply grateful. When they had first brought Jack through the gate, he had barely held it together.
"Did Janet say how much longer she was going to keep him on oxygen?" Daniel asked.
"No. But she did say it was just a precaution. She believes that he had a collapsed lung. The x-rays showed a small pocket of air in his left chest. When she removed it, she noticed a small puncture wound. She thinks it was caused when he removed the air from his chest cavity."
"The colonel did that by himself?"
Hammond shrugged. There was very little that Jack did that could surprise him anymore. "She can't be completely sure, but it's a good guess."
"It hurt like hell, too." Jack's voice, little more than a whisper, drew their attention to him.
"Sir."
"Jack."
"O'Neill."
Jack blinked at his team.
"I had a dream," Jack rasped out. "And you were there, and you were there, and you were there." He waved weakly at each of his teammates, but stopped when he saw Hammond. "You weren't. Sorry, sir. Maybe next time."
"There better not be a next time, Colonel."
"Ah, right." Jack closed his eyes only to open them a second later. He searched for Hammond again.
"How. . . no virus?"
"That's a long story, Jack, and one that can wait until later. You need to rest now. You're going to need all your strength to face the disciplinary fallout from this little escapade."
"I resigned, sir."
Hammond scoffed. "You're not getting off the hook that easy, son."
"Whatever you say, sir." Jack managed a small smile. "I was really looking forward to doing some fishing." He faded off.
"Don't keep him up too long, people." He stood and smiled at them to soften the order. "I have paperwork waiting in my office."
Hammond walked to the exit, then stopped and turned to look at Jack. The colonel's eyes were open again and SG-1 leaned in to hear what he said. Hammond shook his head at the man's stubborn tenacity. Jack O'Neill was obstinate and independent. He'd never admit to defeat and he'd never accept failure. He was cynical, sarcastic and infuriating. He was the type of airman that kept some of the upper brass from sleeping for fear that his integrity would ruin all their careers.
General Hammond wouldn't have it any other way.
***
Jack tugged on his pants and enjoyed the feel of human clothes after a week of hospital gowns. His cuts were healing, his ribs only ached occasionally and his knee hadn't needed surgery. Janet had announced that his last blood work showed that the infection had been eliminated and she'd removed the intravenous antibiotics that she'd pumped into him ever since she'd first appeared at his side. The past few meals he'd even been fed what passed for real food, and Jack had taken that as his cue to leave.
He'd asked Teal'c to bring his clothes down the last time the Jaffa visited. Teal'c complied with the request and concealed the contraband in a bag of magazines. Jack waited for the end of the day shift and sat through General Hammond's nightly 'chew-out-Jack-just-before-going-home' lecture. His fears that this mission would make him an outcast at the SGC had been as unfounded as his belief that his team couldn't find him. His exploits were the talk of the base, and most everyone admired the deft way he'd executed his plan. General Hammond, in an effort to demonstrate that he, at least, didn't appreciate being outmaneuvered, had lined up enough training, paperwork and disciplinary tedium to keep Jack busy for months. Jack was glad to submit to the punishment if it meant the general would tear up his resignation letter.
Shirt in hand, he checked to make sure that no one was around. Then he picked up his shoes and soft-footed it across the infirmary. He wasn't sure how his team felt about everything, but they'd visited him regularly during his recovery. It felt good when they were around, though, and that was always a good sign. The door of the infirmary was two steps away when he heard the sound of heels behind him. He froze. The shoes clicked to a stop.
"Colonel O'Neill."
Jack dropped his hand from the door and turned to face Janet. He gave her his best nonchalant look as he slipped his shirt on. "Yes?" He hoped that he buttoned it up right, but he didn't want to check for fear that the sign of weakness would give her a reason to make him stay. Not that she needed one.
"Colonel, I don't believe that I've released you from the infirmary, yet."
Jack finished with the last button. "I'm releasing myself, Doc."
"You're not qualified to make that decision, sir, even if you did do a passable job of patching yourself up in the field."
Janet had spent a great deal of time outlining every single mistake he had made in his medical attempts. In her estimation, he should have been dead twice over and she had wanted to sign him up for an entire regiment of advanced medic training, so that he could do it right 'next time'. When he'd protested that there would never be a 'next time', she'd actually laughed. That evening, the general had added the program to his list of penance that Jack would have to complete.
"It's been a week, Doc," he said, fixing her with his most authoritative glare. It only had a ten-percent chance of working he knew, but he'd be damned if he'd stay cooped up in this torture chamber any longer. "Everything's great, you said so yourself this afternoon."
"In order for everything to stay great, you need to continue to rest."
"I can do that at home better than here."
"You are in no shape to be driving home, Colonel."
"How 'bout if I drive him home?" Daniel appeared from behind the infirmary doors.
Janet eyed him. "It's kind of late for you to be here, Daniel."
"I got caught up in some research and time got away from me. I thought I'd check in on Jack before I headed home." Daniel was all innocence. "If he can be released, I can drive him home. I'll even make sure that he takes his pills and stays away from alcohol."
Janet stood, hands on her hips, and studied them. "He'll need someone to check on him in the morning and he'll have to be back here tomorrow afternoon for me to run the blood work again."
Yes! Jack refrained from pumping his fist in the air.
Janet's eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "If you don't take your pills, Colonel, I'll strap you to that bed and poke you with the largest needles I can find. Do we understand each other?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Jack snapped a salute at her and hoped that she couldn't see how much it hurt to do so.
She shook her head and muttered something insubordinate under her breath. "I'll get your medication and sign you out. You will need to put on your shoes and wear a coat. It's cold out there tonight."
As she walked away, Jack sat and put on his shoes. His knee didn't hurt at all when he bent it. "Thanks, Daniel."
The archeologist shrugged. "I'm amazed you lasted this long."
Janet returned with a bottle of pills. "Follow the instructions, sir, or--"
"I know, I know," Jack interrupted. "Be a good boy or you'll get to be the Marquis de Sade." He smiled at her to let her know he'd do his best and she smiled back at him.
"Good night, sir. Daniel." She headed back to her office as Jack and Daniel pushed through the infirmary doors. Sam and Teal'c waited in the hall.
"Carter! T!" Jack grinned so hard that it caused the scabs on his face to hurt. "Working late, too?"
"Actually, sir." Carter looked around, "Teal'c mentioned that you requested your clothes, and we thought that you might need some help to get out." She handed him his leather jacket.
"Excellent." Jack shrugged into his coat and walked with his team down the hall. "Thanks for the rescue. Again."
"Anytime, sir."
"Indeed."
They stopped at the elevator and Jack leaned into the up button.
"We also have this for you." Sam handed him a book-sized gift.
"What's this?"
"You will need to open it to discover that, O'Neill."
Jack hoisted it suspiciously and glared at Daniel. "It's not a book about failing agriculture, is it? I don't need another paperweight."
"Just open the gift, sir."
Jack ripped open the paper to reveal a box with the words "Fredrikson's Woodworking" on it. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. The team piled in as Jack pulled the cover off. A dark mahogany plaque sat nestled in tissue paper, and a snapshot of Sam, Daniel and Teal'c smiled up at him from beneath layers of clear varnish. Underneath were carved the words: Your team. Don't leave home without them.
It took Jack a moment to find his voice only to discover he didn't know what to say. The elevator stopped at the ground floor and the doors opened. They were halfway to the guard post when Jack stopped. The others turned back to him, concern plain on their faces.
"I didn't want to, I mean, I didn't see any reason to. . ." The words jumbled in his head but he needed them to understand. "It's not that I don't. . ." He needed them to know that they were important to him. He needed them to understand how much it cost him to leave them behind. "I just couldn't see any other way."
"We know, sir.
"We should warn you, though," Daniel said, "the next time you run off without telling us and we have to track you down on the other side of known space, we're going to kick your butt no matter how sick you are."
Jack grinned at them. "Deal."
"Now, is there anything else?"
Jack shook his head. "Nope." He replaced the cover on the box. "I just wish I would have taped The Simpsons. It was the Halloween special."
"We got that covered, sir."
"You do? You taped The Simpsons for me?"
"Indeed. Daniel Jackson believed that you would wish to view it upon your return."
"By now it's got that one and the latest episode, too," Daniel said.
Jack was touched. After everything he'd done, they'd still taped The Simpsons for him. "This calls for a celebration. We can order pizza and make a night of it. We'll have to pick up something to drink."
"No beer, Jack."
Jack frowned. "Fine, no beer. However, my cupboards are bare and the poor dog will need a bone."
"You do not possess a domesticated canine, O'Neill."
"It's a nursery rhyme, T."
"Poems, for young children," Daniel added, "told to entertain or teach a lesson. Interestingly, they are usually based around gruesome or traumatic events."
Jack was content to let Daniel explain the purpose and history of nursery rhymes as they continued past the guard. He'd thought that he'd have to leave everything he loved behind, to start over with only memories of lost happiness. He'd done it before; he could do it again.
The cold November air swirled into the SGC as they walked out. Jack took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air. Daniel had just recited Three Blind Mice and Teal'c found an inordinate amount of humor in the rhyme. He had Daniel repeat the song three times and laughed harder each time. Jack shot a puzzled look over at Sam who shrugged. Jaffa humor was as big a mystery as Jaffa revenge. The big man's laughter was low and infectious. By the time he recited the rhyme back to them, his deep voice adding an ironic seriousness to the words, they all were in tears. They laughed until they had no air, and then they grinned at each other not at all sure what they'd been laughing about.
Jack took one more gulp of air and he hiccupped. Sam giggled and another bout of laughter followed. It felt good to laugh. It felt impossibly good to be here with his team, laughing. The warmth of camaraderie wrapped around him and the gift was a pleasant weight in his hand. Jack knew how lucky he was to have these friends. How lucky he was to be here with his team, his family. Never leave home without them.
He didn't plan to.
