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Date: Oct. 26, 2000

Notes: This is my latest offering - it's not much,

but I hope you like it. It's my take on Jo's reaction

to Jack's new disability. Language warning! Feedback

gratefully received, even and especially criticism. :)

"So, Stretch," Jo flopped down on the bed beside him.

He was lying prostrate on top of the covers, an arm

flung over a pillow and his eyes staring vacantly at

the opposite wall. He didn't react. "Jack? Hey?

You awake?"

"Go away, Jo, I'm tired," he muttered, rolling over.

"It's only eight o'clock," she protested. Then she

felt a pang of guilt because he really did look

miserable. Although she knew he hadn't been sleeping

- and probably didn't intend to, either - he looked

like he wanted to be alone. That was too bad.

Everyone else was having dinner down in the Imperial

tonight, and his absence was a conspicuous one, at

least to her. It was bad enough that he couldn't go

out on jobs anymore; he didn't have to be *completely*

left out. Besides, she missed having him around. It

wasn't the same. And she'd been worried about him

lately, so she'd snuck over to see what he was up to -

and it didn't look like much at all. He was moping

again. Jo sighed.

"I'm tired," he repeated tonelessly.

She perched at the foot of his bed, her knees drawn up

to her waist. Resting her head on them, she just

looked across at him quietly. He avoided her gaze.

Presently, her eyes started to wander, taking in his

room, the horse paraphernalia, the messy clothes strewn

on the floor - and came back to rest on him, on his

long, useless legs. Suddenly he wasn't "Stretch"

anymore, she thought to herself. If anything, the

opposite. He wasn't towering over her now, all limbs

and laughs - he was... like this. A somberness

settled over her and she thought again about how damn

unfair it all was. He shouldn't have to be like this.

It shouldn't have even *happened*. If he never got

better... She shook her head to clear the thought.

Of course he'd get better. He was so young, things

like this didn't happen to people as young as- But

she knew they did. When she was in high school, a

mate of hers had been paralysed from the neck down

after diving into shallow water. She knew. It

happened. But it wasn't going to happen to Jack. It

couldn't.

Jo rested a hand lightly on his calf, wondering how

much of her touch he could feel.

As it turned out, he didn't need to feel anything.

Hearing the rustle of her shirt drew his attention,

and he looked up at her. "Jo..." he said softly. He

didn't add anything, just let it trail off on a

gentle, almost inaudible drift of air. It fell from

his lips and hung there, suspended, for a moment - a

question and an answer, an admission of something -

who knew what? She wondered what he had been about to

say. Was it an expression, maybe, of... She didn't

know. It rang in the silence before dropping down to

rest on her reply.

"Hm?"

"Nothing."

She gave him a wry look. Then after a moment, she

murmured, "Jack..."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, nothing." She winked and roused a small smile

from him. "Come on," she beseeched, "cheer up."

Their eyes met for a moment and she pulled a sad face.

Instead of turning into a laugh, though, Jack's smile

faded into a morose frown. "Easy for you to say," he

muttered, wrapping his arm tighter around the pillow.

"You can just get up and walk out of here any time you

like."

"No I can't!" she replied indignantly. The words were

off her tongue before she even had time to think of

them.

At the hurt tone in her voice, he rolled onto his back

and looked back at her. He suddenly felt annoyed with

her. How dare she get offended at him, how dare she

pretend that she knew what it was like to be in his

position right now. To be utterly helpless, immobile,

incapacitated - how *dare* she? He just wanted to be

left alone. Couldn't she see that? He didn't want to

feel *anything*.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, trying to

prop himself up with a couple of pillows. Jo rose

without thinking and did it for him, barely

acknowledging his question. She didn't say anything

of helping him, either, knowing how much he hated his

new invalid status. She leaned against the far wall.

"What do you think it means?" she countered, meeting

his gaze steadily. Suddenly, all she wanted was to

get a rise out of him - make him angry, anything but

*this*. Infuriatingly, her gaze wavered under his

dark glare. "You think I can just get up and walk out

of here - leaving you here - feeling wretched - me

feeling guilty, feeling rotten for just being *able*

to walk - you think I can just *leave*?" Her tone was

incredulous. How could he think that? It honestly

hadn't occurred to her that he resented her for being

able to do the one thing he wanted most to do. She

hadn't even considered that.

"Yeah."

"Screw you, Jack."

The words were like a slap in the face. His

expression rendered the shock and she immediately

regretted saying it. "I'm sorry," she muttered,

chagrined. "I shouldn't have said that."

He didn't reply.

"Jack, look, I'm sorry, okay?"

He stared up at the ceiling.

"Okay, fine, whatever! Fuck you, Jack," she said

bitterly. "I can't help you if you won't help

yourself." She paused, glaring back at him, even

though he'd turned his face to the wall and wouldn't

look at her. "I hate seeing you like this," she

hissed through gritted teeth. A wave of anger swept

over her. He was so damn selfish. He wouldn't even

try. "And you know what?" she continued. "You know

what I think, Jack? Better it had happened to me.

Screw it, it should have - me or anyone, anyone but

you, and you know what else? If I could change

things, it *would* have been me."

She spat the words out, feeling angry and honest and

frustrated. It was all true - she would have done

anything to make him better. To make him *feel*

again. If she could have turned back time, she would

have, if she could have taken it all on herself, she

would have done that, too. But she couldn't. She

couldn't do a single thing. It tore her up to see

Jack so depressed. She wanted to do something, but if

he was going to insist on making himself miserable...

She pressed her hands against the wall, palm down, and

took a deep breath. "You know, mate, it would've been

me," she said again, almost wishing it *had* been her,

and secretly glad that it wasn't. "And I'd deal with

it, coz you obviously can't. I'm sorry it happened,

all right - does that make you feel better now?" He

still didn't reply. She couldn't see his face, and

wondered whether he'd registered any of that. Part of

her hoped he hadn't, she was spilling her guts here

and couldn't stop it now. She continued, squeezing

her eyes shut, "I'm sorry! But don't get mad at me,

don't shut me out and - dammit, Jack, I'm sorry it

happened. I love you and I'm sorry. I'm sorry...

Screw you, mate. I'm sorry."

Tears glistened in her eyes and she felt the strength

of her glare gather in her throat in one huge, dense

mass. The fury that had been in her a moment ago had

suddenly dissipated, leaving her feeling weak and

exhausted. Her right leg buckled and she felt like

she could hardly support herself. She felt heavy with

frustration, and wanted to cry. Across from her, Jack

was still motionless. She wondered if he'd fallen

asleep in the middle of her tirade. The thought made

her angry all over again. "Fuck you," she whispered,

almost inaudibly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Jo gathered up the last of her reserves and somehow,

managed to stumble to the door. Casting one final

look back at him, motionless on the bed, she choked

down the lump in her throat and walked out briskly.

The door slammed shut behind her, loud enough to be

felt.

Only on the other side of the door did she let her

anguish out. The tears, when they started to fall,

were hot against her face, burning with the pent-up

rage and helplessness inside of her. He didn't hear

her! After all that, he still didn't know how she

felt. Covering her face with her hands, her brown

curls making a ridiculous curtain, Jo sobbed

violently, silently, feeling her shoulders shake with

the effort. Gasping for breath, she stumbled down the

hallway to her room and fell inside, collapsing on her

own bed. He didn't know. She told him how she felt

and he still didn't know. Jo cried herself to sleep

that night.

And for the first time in weeks, Jack slept

peacefully.

~*~*~

The End

~*~*~

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