Jack silently closed the door behind him and crossed the room. He stared down at Angela who was still fast asleep. Not wanting to wake her, Jack quietly sat down on the floor next to her bed. His slumber had been plagued by painful dreams and since they had jolted him out of sleep, he had remained awake. Jack sighed, his eyes roving about the room. They came to rest on Angela's nightstand. He reached up and picked his old bandanna up off the table top, fingering it in his hands. Jack's hand then moved to his own neck where Angela's ring still hung from a chain. An old piece of advice rang in his head: "when you love someone, you'll know it. In your heart." These thoughts were quickly followed by Race's nagging words from two days before. Jack sighed and turned so that he was facing Angela.

"Angie," he whispered, reaching out a cautious hand to touch her face. Angela's warm brown eyes slowly opened and she sat up.

"What time is it?" she mumbled.

Jack shrugged. "Pretty early, I guess."

"Well, sit down," Angela slid over so Jack could sit. "I would guess the floor is pretty uncomfortable. Those are Johnny's aren't they?" Angela laughed, referring to Jack's pajamas.

Jack grinned and reached into his pajama pocket. "Merry Christmas," he said, handing Angela a small wad of white tissue paper.

"Thank you," Angela said, surprised. She carefully folded back the tissue to reveal a beautiful silver and pearl choker. Angela just stared down at the necklace for several seconds. "It's perfect," she said, stunned. "Really. I couldn't have chosen a better gift." She smiled at Jack before lapsing in to quiet thought for a few moments. "Why are you up so early?"

Jack shook his head. "I was havin' dreams," he whispered.

Angela looked at Jack thoughtfully. "What did you dream about?"

Jack sighed and leaned back against the headboard, shutting his eyes in anguish. "I...I dreamt about me family. �Bout me mudda and fatha' and me little brotha'."

Angela looked at Jack sadly. "What happened to them?" she softly asked.

"Me ma got sick. She got so sick..." Jack trailed off, choking on his words. "It was cancer and da docta' said there wasn't anythin' dey could do. An' so we just watched her get weaker an' weaker..." Jack sighed, pulling himself together. "She died two years ago. I think it was Michael's death dat finally did it. It was an accident but-God, Angie, he was just eight years old! Den dey were both gone..." Jack bitterly shook his head. "An' den me fatha' started ta drink..."

"Jack..." Angela looked at him sadly. Too stunned to speak, she turned away, shaking her head. So much pain; so much hurt; so much unfairness. What's left? What does he have left? Angela slowly turned her head to meet Jack's gaze. His eyes, red and tired but deeper, frightened, terrified even, and lonely. So lonely. They look into hers and it's like a gunshot going off, the bullet hitting her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Angela swallowed, wanting to tear her eyes away because it hurt so badly. Sighing raggedly, she slid over, the sheets rippling under her legs until she could feel Jack's breath on her neck. She pressed her cheek against his chest, feeling it heave and finally exhale, his entire body relaxing with the breath.

"I need ya, Angie. I need ya so much," Jack whispered, squeezing her tightly.

"I know you do. I'm here. I'm gonna be here, I promise." Angela sighed, leaning against him. "I don't know how but-"

"We'll work somethin' out. I don't wanna be without �chu."