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Jack
Oct 14, 2006 3:49:43 GMT -5
Post by Hollywood Heidi on Oct 14, 2006 3:49:43 GMT -5
Wow, 6 references to the numbers in those last two flashbacks... not that I was counting or anything. As usual, very good job! I love how we got to see Gwen, and yah, I hear she gets around...
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Jack
Oct 17, 2006 6:13:50 GMT -5
Post by ana on Oct 17, 2006 6:13:50 GMT -5
Way to go Jack! She said yes!!!!! Now, me Gwen and Kate can go get our bridesmaids dresses for the wedding....
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Vivian Waters
Hunting Boar
plg%%Vivian Waters, Fox, Karli%%
Posts: 403
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Jack
Oct 21, 2006 2:58:09 GMT -5
Post by Vivian Waters on Oct 21, 2006 2:58:09 GMT -5
I feel so ashamed, all these good Flashbacks and i forgot to Post and tell you i loved them. You may carry out my Sentance. Ten whacks ~bends over~
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pearl
Having An Athma Attack
"I could use some therapy" plg%%Sarah & Aaron Parker%%
Posts: 1,207
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Jack
Dec 15, 2006 19:58:15 GMT -5
Post by pearl on Dec 15, 2006 19:58:15 GMT -5
*whack* *whack* *whack* *whack* *whack* *whack* *whack* *whack* *whack* *whack*
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Jack
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Jack
Feb 11, 2007 12:18:30 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Feb 11, 2007 12:18:30 GMT -5
Just to give you guys the heads up, I have 4 new Jack flashbacks in construction. I just gotta find the time to finish them, but I should have at least 2 of them up by March 17 (My spring break)
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Jack
Collecting Info for a Census
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Jack
Mar 14, 2007 23:51:10 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Mar 14, 2007 23:51:10 GMT -5
***Flashback 6 or 7 years before the crash***
(Part 1 of 4)
The motionless body lay on the bed. The chest barely moving up and down as he inhaled and exhaled. Jack rolled over and opened his eyes to look at the clock which read ‘5:18’. Jack sighed and rolled over on his back. He then sat up and yawned, he scratched his head before he stood up. He walked over to his CD player and pressed play, the CD player read in blue letters ‘Shuffle, Album 4, Track 8’
((http://home.arcor.de/jack_shephard/Sound-Alt-2.html ))
He rubbed his eyes as he walked over to his closet to get dressed. He then grabbed the close on the floor and threw them into a laundry basket. Then he jumped into the shower to get cleaned up. He then put on a white muscle shirt, followed by a white long sleeved cotton shirt, a tie, and a jacket. He put on socks and a dress pants. He slipped his feet into his shoes and tied them up.
Jack left his house, locking his doors, and then jumped into his car. The sun was just starting to emerge along the horizon. Jack rubbed his eyes before starting the car. He turned on the ignition, and checked the clock. It now read ‘6:42’. He backed out of the driveway.
(At the hospital, time: 8:15)
“How are you Mr. Fitzgibbons?” Jack asked as he walked into one of the patients rooms.
“Can’t complain right?” Mr. Fitzgibbons answered truthfully.
“Well you could, but it would make it a hell of a lot harder on the nurses,” Jack joked as he flipped through his clipboard.
Mr. Fitzgibbons began to laugh, followed by many coughs. Mr. Fitzgibbons, or Arnold, being his first name, lay in the bed, almost without moving at all. He had a respirator attached to him, and a tube running into his veins that distributed blood throughout his body. His was a fairly old man, mid seventies to early eighties.
“Give it to me straight doc,” Arnold spoke with every bit of strength in his body, “How bad is it?”
Jack laughed, “Man, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve had someone ask me that.” Jack quickly checked the charts on his clipboard again before responding, “Well, the antibiotics are fighting off the infection, and your spinal cord is almost completely healed from the surgery.
“Which means?” Arnold asked.
“It means you’re getting better. As soon as you can handle self-administering your pain medications, you should be out of here,” Jack explained.
“Good, cause these beds suck,” Arnold snorted.
Jack laughed, “Yeah, I don’t like ‘em much either,” he admitted.
“You don’t have to sleep in them three days straight,” Arnold complained.
“Jack!”
Jack tuned around to see his father walking towards him, “Hey dad, what’s up?”
“What time’s the procedure?” his father asked.
“At… 10:45, why?”
“It’s 10:43,” his father pointed out.
“Damn! Look I gotta run, can you…”
“I got it, don’t worry,” his father assured.
“Alright, thanks dad,” Jack said taking off down the hall.
Jack made his way through the hospital quickly. He slowed down as he reached the patients room. He wiped his pawns on his pants and rubbed his forehead. He then checked his watch which read ’10:46’. Jack took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Good morning Mrs. Harrington,” Jack said as he closed the door behind him.
“Hello Jack,” she greeted, unable to hide her fear.
Jack wasted no time. He recorded the readings of the heart monitor and pulse. He then set down his clipboard and moved towards the young woman lying in the bed.
“Alana, have you been eating at all?” Jack asked while feeling her pulse with one hand and recording the time on his watch with the other.
“I… I thought I wasn’t suppose to eat for at least 12 hours before the surgery,” she replied. She seemed to have a muffled sound to her voice, as if each word were a gasp for air.
Jack smiled, “That really only applies to blood tests, which…” Jack said letting go of her arm and grabbing the clipboard again, “have all tested negative for any kind of infection of disease, it seems before the accident you were extremely healthy.”
“Yes she was,” her mother concurred.
“Well you seem to be fine, I think you’re all set for your surgery, the nurses will be in shortly,” Jack explained, “I just have to check one more thing.” Jack leaned over and slowly pulled down the girl’s collar. There were multiple stitches on her chest, just above the breasts.
“There doesn’t seem to be any breaks or tares in the stitches,” Jack smiled, “you’re good to go.”
“Can I talk to you outside for a second,” the mother asked.
Jack paused with a straight face and then replied, “Sure.”
The two stepped out and closed the door behind them. “Why were you doing that?” the mother asked, “The nurses did that exact procedure not 15 minutes ago.”
“Well…” Jack began to reply, “I’m very thorough.”
“Will she…” the mother took a deep breath holding back her tears, “Will she be alright?”
“The surgery should go fine, it’s only minor,” Jack assured her.
“You… you said this is your first solo procedure?”
“That’s right,” Jack replied.
“I hope she’ll be alright,” the mother stated placing a hand over her face and staring through the window at her daughter. The tears then followed.
Jack stared at the woman and then placed a hand on her shoulder, “You should go in a be with her.”
The mother nodded and opened the door, Jack closed it for her as she slowly paced in. Jack swallowed hard. He stared at the two for a moment, and then made his way down the hall to the O.R. room.
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pearl
Having An Athma Attack
"I could use some therapy" plg%%Sarah & Aaron Parker%%
Posts: 1,207
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Jack
Mar 18, 2007 15:26:37 GMT -5
Post by pearl on Mar 18, 2007 15:26:37 GMT -5
Awe, I really like this flashback .... again! It is very detailed like everyone of yours and feels juts like the show in my head Although I missed a quite as detailed shower scene to explain the huge time difference between waking up and sitting in the car But for the rest ... the interpersonal dialogs and actions were great and thoroughly believable! Good work Skippy.
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Jack
Collecting Info for a Census
plg%%Jack, Boone, Ben Henry, Kyle, Neil, Goodwin, Pickett%%
Posts: 1,725
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Jack
Jul 14, 2007 17:35:00 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Jul 14, 2007 17:35:00 GMT -5
***Flashback 6 or 7 years before the crash***
Jack could feel the sweat running down his forehead. 13 hours into the procedure, and he still had to be vigilant and ever so careful. He continued to operate as one of the nurses held open the girl’s dural sac with a clamp. Jack flushed out the excess blood with a syringe and then went to work on it. He diligently removed dead and wasted nerves.
“BP’s dropping,” one of the nurses announced. Jack could hear the machine going off in the background. He continued to work, ignoring the nurses and the machines.
“Doctor!”
“I know! I need to finish first,” Jack continued very to be very focused, even as the others began to panic a bit.
“Something blocking the blood flowing to the spine,” the nurse with the clamp stated.
“I know, something obstructing one of the vertebrates,” Jack replied, not taking his focus off the surgery.
“Doctor you need to do something.”
“I know, I know,” Jack whispered, primarily to himself. “Alright one last suction should do it,” Jack said as he pulled back the syringe that began to fill with blood. Jack pulled the syringe out, “There.” Jack turned to one of the nurses, “Alright I’m gunna move camera, tell me what you see on the monitor,” Jack moved a very small and thin tube like camera up through the girl’s spine.
“We got something!” the nurse called out.
“What is that?” one of the other nurses asked, looking up at the monitor.
“It’s a piece of glass,” Jack replied looking at the monitor. It couldn’t have been more then a couple of mm big. “It’s probably from the crash,” Jack continued. He pulled the camera out and slid in what looked like a thin piece of would that actually clinged to the piece of glass. Jack pulled it carefully, trying not to shred anything as he did so.
“BP (blood pressure) stabilizing,” one of the nurses said.
“Alright, we just have to sew her up and she’ll be fine,” Jack said as he got to work.
A few minutes into sewing her up, Jack began to sweat again, he lifted his left arm and wiped the sweat off. As he went back to work, the needle slipped. Jack’s heart almost stopped. He had cut open the dural sac (the base of the spine where all the nerves come together). All the machines went off in the background. Jack could hardly breathe. He looked up to see all the doctors and nurses staring at him, waiting for him to do something. He heart was now racing, he took a quick glimpse at the door, the easy way out. He began to feel woozy, he almost passed out at one point. He bit his lip and brought himself back. He was frozen, his mind was going 100 miles a second. He felt extremely dizzy. The entire room was silent other then the machines in the background. Jack closed his eyes and muttered to himself. “One…Two…” he was taking very heavy, deep breaths in between as he tried to catch his breath, “Three…Four…” he took on last deep breath,
“Five…”
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Jack
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Jack
Jul 25, 2007 22:13:58 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Jul 25, 2007 22:13:58 GMT -5
***Flashback 25 years before the crash***
Punch after punch after punch. Silverman, in too much pain the scream, in too much shock to cry. All he could do was stand in one spot and take the beating, take the torture, and humiliation. He stared back at Jack who was only a couple of yards away, on his back.
Jack was lying on the ground, staring up the at the sky. He wasn't really staring at anything, he was just trying to control his mind, stop the spinning. He and Mark were just walking along outside the park and now, all of a sudden Jack was on his back and Silverman was getting beat.
"Stay down!" one of the bullies ordered Jack as he watched his friend continue to beat Mark. Jack could hear the punches, and the shaking fence as Silverman was repeatedly forced against it by the blow of the punches. Jack look over at him, they locked eyes. Silverman had a look on his face as if to beg Jack to help him, but he didn't make a sound except for a groan every time he was struck by the heavy fist.
Jack had a cut on his head from the fall. He looked up at the bully standing over him. The bully could sense what Jack was thinking by the anger in Jack's eyes. "It's your choice man, walk away now and you won't get your ass kicked," the bully told Jack, trying to keep him on the floor and out of the way of what they had set out to do.
Jack looked over at Silverman again, this time Silverman had broken sight of Jack as he became weaker and weaker, there was no telling how much more Mark could take. Jack continued to stare at him, trying to muster up the courage to help him. Finally Jack took a deep breath as his anger grew, trying to force the fear away.
He jumped up and he was ready to run at the bully beating on Silverman. By now Jack had already forgotten about the bully that stood over him. Jack had moved only a few feet before he was grabbed by the shoulder. He turned in shock to be face to face with the other bully. "You should've stayed down, Jack." Jack watched as the bully pulled his arm back, with his fist leveled at his own face. He threw it forward like a catapult towards Jack's face, and then...darkness.
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Jack
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Jack
Aug 13, 2007 21:35:15 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Aug 13, 2007 21:35:15 GMT -5
***25 years before the crash***
"Do you want to come in?" Jack stood outside his father's study. His face was brutally scared and bruised. He could hear the familiar sound of ice banging up against his father's glass echoing through the room. Jack knew that sound, he dread it for years. Instead spending time with his father, instead of having fun and playing sports and board games like a normal kid, Jack lived his home life on his own. Everyone separated from each other. Not a sound form anyone of them, except the ice against the glass. The constant bottles of scotch in the recycling.
Jack entered the room with his head low. Almost in embarrassment. Despite Jack's hatefully feelings for his father, he always though he needed to impress him. To show him that he was more then an incapable failure. But the bruises on Jack's face said just that.
"So, you want to tell me what happened?" his father ask taking another sip from his glass.
"A couple guys jumped Mark Silverman," Jack explained. And as the words came out of his mouth, it almost sounded insane to himself. There still wasn't an explanation to why he had the brutally beaten face.
"A couple guys jumped Mark Silverman," his father repeated the words, trying to make Jack feel the same thing he felt. To make Jack realize that a couple of guys jumping Mark Silverman gives no explanation to why they were talking to each other not. "But they didn't jump you?" his father asked, not for himself, not to find out more about what happened, but to allow Jack to understand to foolishness of his actions.
Jack took a deep breath and replied flatly, "No."
"I had a boy on my table today," Christian said, getting up from his chair and making his way over to his little, miniature bar. He refilled his glass with ice. Jack just stared and listened with a grim look on his face. "I don't know, maybe a year younger than you. He had a bad heart. It got real hairy, real fast. Everybody's looking at your old man to make decisions," Christian continued. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and pulled the glass cork out. The sound of the scotch flowing into the glass, and the crackling of the of the ice in the change in temperature made Jack feel like he was just hit by a ton of briks...hard.
"And I was able to make those decisions because at the end of the day, after the boy died, I was able to wash my hands and come home to dinner. You know, watch a little Carol Burnett, laugh till my sides hurt. And how can I do that, hmm? And even when I fail, how do I do that, Jack?" Jack just stood perfectly still, taking in everything his father was saying like a sponge. "Because I have what it takes," and there was the part where Jack would learn he wasn't quite as capable, he wasn't as strong as his old man. "Don't choose, Jack, don't decide. You don't want to be a hero, you don't try and save everyone because when you fail. . . you just don't have what it takes."
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Gwen Havers
Help Translate Rousseau's Maps
Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
Posts: 2,010
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Jack
Aug 14, 2007 22:02:57 GMT -5
Post by Gwen Havers on Aug 14, 2007 22:02:57 GMT -5
Yay, one of my favorite Jack-backs! I felt like I was watching it all over again. Really well-written.
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Jack
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Jack
Aug 14, 2007 23:01:19 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Aug 14, 2007 23:01:19 GMT -5
Well thank you . Yeah the Jack flashbacks went kinda downhill after "All The Best"
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Jack
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Jack
Aug 29, 2007 17:23:24 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Aug 29, 2007 17:23:24 GMT -5
JACK
***2 weeks before the crash***
Jack stood motionless, looking out the window. Rain continued to drizzle against the window as the storm continued along its path. Jack just stared out at the cloudy stormy weather. It was strange, it hadn't occurred to Jack at the moment, but the weather was almost mirroring his current emotion and state of mind...Mediphorically of course.
"Your father's gone Jack," Jack's attention was not captured by the simple phrase. Whether it was the fact that Jack had too much on his mind to care for what his mother had just told him, or if it were that Jack simply didn't care at all. What ever the reason Jack just continued to stare out the window. "Did you hear what I said? He's gone Jack," his mother said in a strict tone, but also the anxiety in her voice was not hidden by her anger.
"He'll be back," Jack replied with a monotone voice, almost making sound as if this wasn't the first time Jack was in this situation, faced with this conundrum.
"This time it's different. I want you to bring him back," his mother told him almost as an order, but Jack didn't pick up on it, and if he did, he obviously didn't care.
He shook his head, now facing his mother. "He hasn't talked to me in 2 months, Mom," Jack exclaimed with a slight hint of rage in his voice, but most of what was heard was simply annoyance.
"You haven't talked to him in 2 months," his mother replied, trying to justify Christian's actions.
Jack was no where near convinced, Jack cut his father out of his life, cut him out of the picture, and Jack wasn't about the grab a bottle of glue just because he's gone. "He doesn't want me to bring him back, trust me. Let one of his friends."
"He doesn't have friends anymore. Why do you think that is?" his mother snapped. Jack paused with a look of remorse on his face, but that didn't last long. "He was right about you," his mother said out of the dark, it was obvious she was trying everything she could to convince Jack to go out and bring back his father.
"Right about what?" Jack asked, it was clear the statement hurt him in a soar spot. Was his father right about the lies he told to get what he wanted, like Jack being the most gifted young surgeon, or the other things he would say about Jack, like he didn't quite have what it takes, that he would never be capable.
"You don't understand the pressure that he's under," his mother told him now trying the empathy trick. Perhaps she meant it, but if she did, she was damn near sighted about Jack's life.
Jack bit his lip and replied, "I understand pressure," and boy did he ever.
"Jack, please you know how he gets -- he doesn't -- he won't take care of himself," there was nothing left. She had tried everything and Jack didn't even seem to blink at the words she spoke. She had nothing left to do but plead. "You have to go after him."
Jack began to feel his mother's pain, which is why he was sympathetic in the way he spoke his next words, but sympathetic in the words he chose, "I'm sorry. I can't."
"I can't? You don't get to say "I can't." Not after what you did," now it was obvious that what Jack did not only hurt his father's life, but his mother's as well. Of course doing the right thing never seems to bring happiness. "Bring your father home, Jack."
Jack admitting to his mistakes, agreed to help those he hurt. "Where is he?"
"Australia."
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Jack
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Jack
Sept 3, 2007 15:18:12 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Sept 3, 2007 15:18:12 GMT -5
***11 days before the crash***
"The maid says he hasn't used the bed in the past three days."
Jack stood in his father's hotel room. Apart from there being a few liquor bottles and some clothes. You'd of though Christian had never been in there. Jack looked around for clues as to where his father might be, but there were hundreds of bars in Sydney and Jack knew his father wouldn't be in just one for very long. All of a sudden Jack began to realize that this wasn't anything like his father's normal vacation. This was beginning to get very serious.
"Did he rent a car from the concierge?" Jack asked, hoping maybe his father decided to see Sydney for what it was, and took off down the back roads for a few days.
"No sir," the hotel manager replied in a very professional tone. Jack sighed, but it certainly wasn't in relief. "Quite honestly, Mr. Shephard, I don't think your father rented a car at all."
"Yeah, why's that?" Jack asked as he continued to search through the room. Suddenly the simple easy job to pick up his father and bring him home was becoming an exceedingly traumatizing event.
"There was an incident a few nights ago at the hotel bar. I had to get security to escort your father to his room," the manager replied not really explaining the connection between the two.
Jack dropped what he was doing as he tried to wrap his brain around the manager's reply. "What's that have to do with renting a car?"
"I'm sorry sir. . ." the manager replied trying to keep the respect between him and the customer. He didn't want to offend anybody, especially not in his position.
"Come on, what's that have to do with. . ." Jack said cutting him off. Jack just wanted a straight answer and for him to cut the professional B.S. and act like a real person. It would be much more helpful to Jack.
"Mr. Shephard, I don't think any rental agent in Sydney would lease your father a car in his condition."
"My father is the Chief of Surgery," Jack snapped. It came as a shock to Jack, seeing as how he hadn't spoken to his father in months, and now he was defending him subconsciously.
"Of course, sir. I apologize," the manager said lowering his head in shame.
Jack had been looking around room, finding bottles of booze, pills. He glanced at the bedside table. He noticed his father's wallet. Now something certainly didn't seem right. "He left his wallet. Who leaves a wallet?" Jack muttered to himself, but loud enough the manager heard.
"Perhaps you should talk to the police, Mr. Shephard," the manager suggested, mainly so that he would no longer have to be in the middle of Jack's goose chase.
"Where are you?"
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Jack
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Jack
Sept 26, 2007 19:39:18 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Sept 26, 2007 19:39:18 GMT -5
***5 days before the crash***
Jack walked down an empty hallway with the Medical Examiner by his side. The room was silent except for the sound of the green shaded florescent lights flickering. Jack could bare the sound of his foot steps through the hall. He wasn't sure what he'd find at the end of the hall. Jack's heart beat was getting faster and faster for every foot he took past the 4 million and one door's down life's endless corridor.
"The police found him in an alley in Queens Cross. Now, a tox screen showed a blood alcohol content, which for a man of his size, probably brought on myocardial infarction - a sizable, and fatal heat-attack," Jack listened attentively to the medical examiner. Jack listened to every word, but he took no notice to what it meant. Jack felt nothing, but anticipation. He wouldn't believe the story until he could see it for himself.
They entered a room. There laid a body bag on a metal table. The medical examiner went right for the body while Jack hung back, he kept his distance, in fact he stood in the back corner. Jack was no longer thinking properly, he just stared at the body. The body that was covered by the bag. The medical examiner unzipped the body bag. For a quick second Jack kept to the far wall. As far away from the body as he could get. He stepped forward a bit. His heart racing and his palms sweating. He wasn't even thinking about what he wanted to see in the bag, in fact he wasn't even thinking. He was too scared to think.
Jack looked at the body and after a split second his fear was gone. Washed away. Replaced by a tear that ran down his cheek. The sniffled as he stood over the body. He nodded a little, not taking his eyes off his father's lifeless body. "That's him," Jack said behind his cracked voice. The medical examiner didn't say anything. He just stepped forward towards the table. Jack stepped back again. He had now burst into tear as he leaned up against the wall. He couldn't even stand on his own. The thing that hurt Jack the most was the fact that now after all the years he had lost his chance to tell his father that he was sorry, that he truly did love him. Instead he grew a separation from his father. Not talking to each other, not seeing each other. And now after the months of silence. Jack stood over his father's body, unable to even reminisce of his father's last words to him.
Jack continued to cry. All he could remember was the sharp sound of the bag being zipped up as if it were stabbing him with a thousand needles.
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Jack
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Jack
Sept 27, 2007 21:52:33 GMT -5
Post by Jack on Sept 27, 2007 21:52:33 GMT -5
JACK
"What do you mean you won't put it on the plane?" Jack stood at a checking counter and Sydney airport. He was almost literally shaking as he began to break down. It seemed as though if there was something to go wrong for him, it didn't mind jumping right in front of Jack.
"I'm sorry Mr. Shephard, but our policy is that the body must have the proper documentation. There's just no latitude..." the ticket agent replied trying to reason with Jack.
"No latitude?" he said with a small smile on his face as he pushed his back away from the counter as he nodded at her. Jack was certainly not happy, far from it. It looked as though he was ready to snap. "No latitude?" Jack repeated now letting out a rueful.
"Without the proper documents. . ." the ticket agent tried to continue before being cut off again.
"Look, you can't do this to me. I'm ready to go now," Jack said with a shrill voice with anger flowing through it. Not angry at the ticket agent, but angry at the whole situation. He just wanted to get it all over with but it seemed fate wouldn't let him.
"Perhaps another carrier. . ."
"No!" Jack yelled at the top of his lungs as he had finally snapped. His voice echoed through the entire terminal. Jack looked back in despairer at the people behind him to hoping he hadn't made to much of a commotion. The last thing Jack wanted to do was draw attention to himself.
"I want you to listen to me, okay. Because I'm asking you a favor, Chrissy," Jack said with a clam voice hoping he could get the ticket agent to give him some sympathy. "I'm standing in front of you in the same suit that I'm wearing to my father's funeral and I'm asking you a favor. In 16 hours I need to land at LAX, and I need that coffin to clear customs because there's going to be a hearse waiting there. And I need that hearse to take me and that coffin to a cemetery."
Jack paused for a moment, not realizing that Chrissy either looked heart broken or terrified. "Why? Why, Chrissy, can't I just bring him to a funeral home and make all the arrangements? Why can't I really take my time with it?" Jack paused again as he swallowed hard. "Because I need it to be done. I need it to be over. I just..." Jack stopped before he broke down again or began crying. He wanted to keep it as calm and as formal as possible. All Jack wanted was to be able to go home and move on. And he hoped Chrissy would understand this. "I need to bury my father."
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