In Time: Breaking Down
Title: Breaking Down
Summary: A terrible accident leaves Jack paralyzed, and terrified of what his and Sam's future will hold.
Timeframe: Any, AU.
Characters/Pairing: Established SJ.
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: T
Breaking Down
Sam went to his aid silently, brushing back the sweaty strands of grey over his forehead, already crouching at the end of the bed, removing his soiled clothes. Is this what he'd become? Jack wondered. The crippled old soldier that pissed himself in the night because he couldn't get to the bathroom and could barely control his bladder?
This wasn't the kind of married life Jack imagined or wanted. This wasn't what he wanted for Sam. He loved her, and if loving her meant letting her go to allow her to really live, then he would do it. Hell, he'd tried to do it. She just wouldn't go. She wouldn't let him go. She wouldn't let him give up. He loved her even more for that.
Jack felt useless and ashamed as she undressed him, wrapped his lower half in a towel, and helped him into his chair. He couldn't speak to her. She just changed the sheets, pushed him to the bathroom, cleaned him up, then put him back in bed. He felt like an infant.
When she laid against his side, her hand on his chest, Jack cursed the sharp sting of tears in his eyes. They ran down the side of his face and soaked into his pillow. He could tell she knew he was crying, and hated the show of weakness.
Her gentle fingers flexed against the cotton of his t-shirt, and he gritted his teeth against the empty feeling in his gut, because he couldn't feel her legs against his own.
Jack cursed that one stray bullet, the nightmares, and himself. He clenched his fists, revelling in the ability to be in control of some part of his body. When Sam's hand encountered his left fist and she forcibly threaded her fingers between the resisting digits, he inhaled sharply and turned his head away. She clutched at his hand desperately, and as she kissed his neck, he could feel her tears dripping onto his skin.
In the morning he was stiff, tired, and sweating. He moved his head around, searching for Sam, and panicked when he didn't see her. Jack's heart was beating fifty times per second, threatening to burst from his chest. He felt sick. He couldn't escape the awful feeling of sheer hysteria that filled his very being. She was gone. She was gone.
"Jack?" Sam appeared in the doorway a moment later.
By then he was gasping for breath, clutching the sheets like he was squeezing the life out of them, and sweating profusely. He was so relieved to see her in the midst of his anxiety, that he threw up all over the place.
It became like a routine. She helped him up, removed his clothes, got him into the chair and pushed him to the bathroom to clean him up. This time she got him on the bench in the shower and left to change the sheets again.
She never said a word, but Jack could see the fear and concern in her eyes, the defeat in her posture. He looked up at the spraying water washing over him and briefly wondered if it was possible for him to drown in the shower. Trying to reach for the soap, he lost his balance and fell off the bench to land noisily on the shower floor. He whacked his head on the wall and lay there dazed, a tangled, slippery heap of arms and legs.
He hadn't tried to move when Sam found him and cried out in alarm. "Jack!" She quickly turned off the water and manipulated his legs, pulling his body up so that he was sitting slumped against the shower wall. Kneeling in the water with no regard for her now-wet clothing, she pulled his upper body against her, pressing his head to her chest. "I'm sorry, Jack. God, I'm so sorry."
He could hear her sobbing, but was too ashamed of his own misery and weakness to really do anything about it.
After resting her cheek on his damp head and crying for several minutes, clutching his naked, wet body to her, Sam got him up and into his chair. She dried him off, then wrapped him up in a towel and pushed him back into the bedroom.
Jack felt like a useless husk. He moved his upper body to help her as much as he could, but he was a marionette with half it's strings cut, his legs dangling free without any function.
Sam clothed him with great care, buttoning up his pants to make him presentable, trying to get him to put on his own shirt when she knew he could. "Jack, please," she begged, her voice still sounding tearful.
His dark eyes were dull as he lay there, not even trying to sit up. Jack had to wonder why she bothered anymore. He thought about pushing her away again, telling her to get lost and saying he didn't love her anymore, just to make her leave. He just couldn't bear the thought of her leaving him. It was bad enough being useless. He didn't want to be useless and alone. It shook him to his very core, and he started breathing in sharp, shallow breaths, panicking at the very thoughts of her abandoning him.
She sat next to him on the bed, her hands covering her face. In a desperate attempt to let her know he still cared, still wanted her around, Jack reached out and grasped at her arm, feebly. "Please. Don't leave me."
He hadn't been talking much, if at all, and she had to have been surprised at the sound of his voice and the hand on her arm. Sam pulled both hands from her face, her bright, teary blue eyes gazing at him with so many emotions he couldn't decipher them all.
When he pushed himself to sit up, Sam flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly, burying her wet, tear-stained face in the side of his neck. "God, Jack. I'm not going to leave you. Ever," she sobbed into his skin. She pulled back suddenly and grasped his face between her warm hands, staring him directly in the eyes. "But don't you give up on me, Jack. Don't you dare!"
His breathing slowed and the panic gradually ebbed away. He ran a shaky hand through her hair and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he flashed a small, determined smile and nodded. Jack was certain that his new path in life wouldn't be easy, and he was scared, but as long as Sam was there with him, he wouldn't give up.
-The End-
Summary: A terrible accident leaves Jack paralyzed, and terrified of what his and Sam's future will hold.
Timeframe: Any, AU.
Characters/Pairing: Established SJ.
Genre: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Rating: T
Breaking Down
Sam went to his aid silently, brushing back the sweaty strands of grey over his forehead, already crouching at the end of the bed, removing his soiled clothes. Is this what he'd become? Jack wondered. The crippled old soldier that pissed himself in the night because he couldn't get to the bathroom and could barely control his bladder?
This wasn't the kind of married life Jack imagined or wanted. This wasn't what he wanted for Sam. He loved her, and if loving her meant letting her go to allow her to really live, then he would do it. Hell, he'd tried to do it. She just wouldn't go. She wouldn't let him go. She wouldn't let him give up. He loved her even more for that.
Jack felt useless and ashamed as she undressed him, wrapped his lower half in a towel, and helped him into his chair. He couldn't speak to her. She just changed the sheets, pushed him to the bathroom, cleaned him up, then put him back in bed. He felt like an infant.
When she laid against his side, her hand on his chest, Jack cursed the sharp sting of tears in his eyes. They ran down the side of his face and soaked into his pillow. He could tell she knew he was crying, and hated the show of weakness.
Her gentle fingers flexed against the cotton of his t-shirt, and he gritted his teeth against the empty feeling in his gut, because he couldn't feel her legs against his own.
Jack cursed that one stray bullet, the nightmares, and himself. He clenched his fists, revelling in the ability to be in control of some part of his body. When Sam's hand encountered his left fist and she forcibly threaded her fingers between the resisting digits, he inhaled sharply and turned his head away. She clutched at his hand desperately, and as she kissed his neck, he could feel her tears dripping onto his skin.
In the morning he was stiff, tired, and sweating. He moved his head around, searching for Sam, and panicked when he didn't see her. Jack's heart was beating fifty times per second, threatening to burst from his chest. He felt sick. He couldn't escape the awful feeling of sheer hysteria that filled his very being. She was gone. She was gone.
"Jack?" Sam appeared in the doorway a moment later.
By then he was gasping for breath, clutching the sheets like he was squeezing the life out of them, and sweating profusely. He was so relieved to see her in the midst of his anxiety, that he threw up all over the place.
It became like a routine. She helped him up, removed his clothes, got him into the chair and pushed him to the bathroom to clean him up. This time she got him on the bench in the shower and left to change the sheets again.
She never said a word, but Jack could see the fear and concern in her eyes, the defeat in her posture. He looked up at the spraying water washing over him and briefly wondered if it was possible for him to drown in the shower. Trying to reach for the soap, he lost his balance and fell off the bench to land noisily on the shower floor. He whacked his head on the wall and lay there dazed, a tangled, slippery heap of arms and legs.
He hadn't tried to move when Sam found him and cried out in alarm. "Jack!" She quickly turned off the water and manipulated his legs, pulling his body up so that he was sitting slumped against the shower wall. Kneeling in the water with no regard for her now-wet clothing, she pulled his upper body against her, pressing his head to her chest. "I'm sorry, Jack. God, I'm so sorry."
He could hear her sobbing, but was too ashamed of his own misery and weakness to really do anything about it.
After resting her cheek on his damp head and crying for several minutes, clutching his naked, wet body to her, Sam got him up and into his chair. She dried him off, then wrapped him up in a towel and pushed him back into the bedroom.
Jack felt like a useless husk. He moved his upper body to help her as much as he could, but he was a marionette with half it's strings cut, his legs dangling free without any function.
Sam clothed him with great care, buttoning up his pants to make him presentable, trying to get him to put on his own shirt when she knew he could. "Jack, please," she begged, her voice still sounding tearful.
His dark eyes were dull as he lay there, not even trying to sit up. Jack had to wonder why she bothered anymore. He thought about pushing her away again, telling her to get lost and saying he didn't love her anymore, just to make her leave. He just couldn't bear the thought of her leaving him. It was bad enough being useless. He didn't want to be useless and alone. It shook him to his very core, and he started breathing in sharp, shallow breaths, panicking at the very thoughts of her abandoning him.
She sat next to him on the bed, her hands covering her face. In a desperate attempt to let her know he still cared, still wanted her around, Jack reached out and grasped at her arm, feebly. "Please. Don't leave me."
He hadn't been talking much, if at all, and she had to have been surprised at the sound of his voice and the hand on her arm. Sam pulled both hands from her face, her bright, teary blue eyes gazing at him with so many emotions he couldn't decipher them all.
When he pushed himself to sit up, Sam flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly, burying her wet, tear-stained face in the side of his neck. "God, Jack. I'm not going to leave you. Ever," she sobbed into his skin. She pulled back suddenly and grasped his face between her warm hands, staring him directly in the eyes. "But don't you give up on me, Jack. Don't you dare!"
His breathing slowed and the panic gradually ebbed away. He ran a shaky hand through her hair and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he flashed a small, determined smile and nodded. Jack was certain that his new path in life wouldn't be easy, and he was scared, but as long as Sam was there with him, he wouldn't give up.
-The End-