Jack winced and his puffy eyes shuttered to adjust to the blinding shock of bright white light. He gasped unintentionally, the movement causing his chest to tighten immediately and painfully. His mouth was dry and his head was pulsating and his limbs felt weighted and tender. He made to lift his hands to cover his eyes and felt a sharp pinch in his right hand. It was a moment before his eyes had adjusted enough so that he could see the IV needle taped to the back of his hand, surprising him even more.

What happened to me? He shook his head trying to gain clarity but only causing his vision to blur further. He blearily studied the room he was in. He was in a bed covered in stark white sheets that crackled like paper when he moved every which way. A window with closed blinds on the far wall and tray with a pitcher and a plastic cup on top of it in the corner nearest to him. He reached blindly out for it but his arms didn't seem to be cooperating and it took so much effort to even lift inches. He tried in vain to reach for the pitcher to no avail. As he grew more frustrated he heard shuffling to his right. In his haste to clear the dry, bad taste in his mouth, he hadn't noticed the chair in the corner.

"Hard isn't it? You're still a bit weak now, but you'll get your strength back soon. I'll pour you some water." Shawn shrugged a grey wool blanket off of his shoulders. He blinked, eyes laced with sleep and shuffled to pour Jack some water. His lazy grip causing some water to spill onto the small table and drip onto the floor. Jack absentmindedly felt like cleaning it but dismissed the thought immediately. If he couldn't pour himself water, he certainly couldn't clean anything. He suddenly felt very ashamed.

Shawn handed him the plastic cup and yawned. "You know, its weird being back here. It's only two rooms down from where Dad was. Some lung cancer patient is staying in there. Pretty cool lady, shares her candy and chocolates with me." He snapped and smiled brightly. "That reminds me! You have lots of cards and gifts. You've only been here for five weeks but our friends feel like you dropped off the face of the fucking planet."

He understood that he was in a hospital but, he had been for at least five weeks? He didn't know why or he couldn't remember. Was I attacked? Mugged? No, he would remember something like that. Not like he had any money on him anyway. The last thing he remembered was chatting briefly with Mrs. Matthews about something. What was it? Why couldn't he remember? Why did he feel so weak?

Jack's eyebrows creased as he studied Shawn. He remembers strange dreams of Eric and champagne glasses and he could've sworn there was a duck involved. At least he thought they were dreams. Frowning, he looked to Shawn hopefully. Positive the man would recognize his confused expression.

"Rachel sent one with chocolate. Cory ate half of them, sorry. Um, Mr. Feeny sent you this long one here. Lots of big words, I think he made some of them up. I checked. Ah, Cory's parents sent these. They sent you two with a box of those pastries you like so much." He reddened and averted his gaze from Jack for a moment. "The doctors did say that you may not be able to taste subtle flavors. They're not sure if it's permanent or not."

Jack didn't know what to say to that. Instead, he opened his mouth, trying to gauge silently how his vocal cords would work. He tried to speak but his voice caught and he coughed harshly a few times. He tried again a little more successfully. "More please." He nodded towards the pitcher.

Shawn obliged and poured Jack a little more this time. "Um. Cory and Topanga sent you a card too. It sings that song you and Eric used to dance to all the time to make us laugh. Well at least I know you did it intentionally to make us laugh. Eric, I was never quite sure of." Shawn chuckled and smiled as Jack's lips quirked at the corners. "Eric sent you a card. Lots of them actually."

Jack tilted his head, wishing he felt confident enough to try to get out the questions he wanted to ask. As he was about to try for a small one, the door opened and a young nurse stepped in. She abruptly lifted Jack's arm and held the stethoscope to the inside of his elbow, glancing at the watch on her wrist. She did a few more observational check ups, eyes, throat and tenderness on his abdomen and sides, before she spoke.

"You seem to be alright. Reflexes responsive. Any numbness?" Jack shook his head just enough to give her an answer but not enough to worsen his headache. "Lightheadedness?" Jack nodded. "That's to be expected. Okay, need you to try to stand and take a few steps."

Jack looked to Shawn who immediately came over and helped him get to his feet. He was surprised at how complicated it was. He could stand but his muscles were so heavy and his joints didn't seem to move. He felt like someone had crushed him, like he'd been hit by one of the trucks his real dad used to drive. He finally managed to stand up straight and Shawn let him go. The nurse was coming into closer view but the new position was still a bit unfocused. He closed his eyes.

A dark sky hovering over a sea of dark jade, pine trees appeared and a laugh somewhere off in the recesses or the image. "We shouldn't be doing this."

A drunken, slurred, contradictory voice. "I'm sick and tired of everyone telling me what to do." Warm shaking hands and a racing heartbeat.

Jack shuddered and shook his head again and when he lifted his head again, the nurse's concerned face was all he could see. What the hell was that?

"Jack. Jack, are you alright?"

"Mr. Hunter?" Her eyes darted from Jack's distant expression to Shawn's worried face. "Can you speak?"

Jack wearily lifted a hand to point to his throat. It was scratchy and it burned when he swallowed even after the water he had. She nodded and made a note on the clipboard. "That's to be expected too. Okay, can you take a few steps?"

Jack nodded but as he tried, he only managed to move about three inches. His legs felt like anchors and his back was killing him. What the hell happened? As he lifted his left foot, he was aware that Shawn was watching him with silent disappointment. He tried harder, determined to at least take a real step. He grew increasingly frustrated as he realized at the moment this just wasn't possible. Shawn, sensing his agitation tried to get him to relax.

"It's okay. You did good. Better than I thought." Shawn looked to the nurse and she nodded, agreeing. Shawn helped Jack settle back into bed, running his hands through his hair in small frustration. He wasn't sure why he was upset. After all, he couldn't expect much from Jack. It'd only been a week since the doctors had predicted the details of Jack's recovery and for four weeks, they hadn't even been sure he was going to make it. He was lucky Jack could stand. He was fucking lucky Jack was even alive right now.

"Do you remember anything about that night?" The nurse asked, continuing in her examination. She watched as Jack half nodded, half disagreed.

He coughed and then rasped, his voice cracking after every other syllable. "There are flashes."

"Okay." She made a couple of notes on her clipboard before smiling and dismissing herself. "I'll be back in about an hour to do some more observation but you don't seem to present any unexpected complications but it never hurts to be absolutely sure."

Once the door was closed again, Shawn sat down on the edge of Jack's bed. He let his head fall into his hands, his brown locks curtaining his hands. They sat silence for a long time. Jack didn't know what to say and Shawn wasn't making any effort to make conversation. He felt suddenly extremely awkward. Like a new club member left out of all the old stories and jokes everyone else was remembering fondly.

Shawn finally sat up and met Jack's confused gaze, as if daring and half hoping Jack wouldn't ask the question nagging him. There was something about his somber expression that made Jack certain whatever happened… he had been lucky to survive at all.

"Shawn." He coughed but was willing his voice not to die out on him before he could get this out. "What happened to me?"

Jack didn't say anything as Shawn looked pained for a minute, biting his tongue before he sighed. "You died Jack. You died twice and they brought you back." He took a few shaky steps toward Jack, his arms awkwardly forming around Jack's startled frame. Jack willed his strained muscles to cooperate and hugged Shawn back as much as he could. The rugged material of his flannel shirt was scratching slightly on Jack's tender skin but he didn't, or rather couldn't, complain.