Jack had never asked Cam about her past. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested. He just wasn’t one fore asking. It occurred to him as he finished his speech that telling her these things likely didn’t make her feel any better, and in the end she probably didn’t need to know. The reason he shared the experience with her wasn’t clear, not even to Jack. Not like he was one for feeling sorry for himself or seek sympathy from others. That definitely wasn’t it. Yet, one could assume he shared the information as a way to help her understand him better. Maybe it would give her reason not to judge him too harshly when he does stupid shit, while at the same time let her know that, despite his shortcomings, he appreciated her being around. Her presence somehow… made living easier to bear. She was someone in this world he could care for.

Jack kept his now passive eyes on her, listening, seemingly contented by having shared his story, though Camilla’s soft touch had its hand in it as well. Although he didn’t show it with expression, he appreciated her willingness to help as much as she did his sentiments. He enjoyed the moment, including her jest, which resulted in him cracking a smile – 

“Bacon and Egg McMuffin not enough, you need dinner as well?” He let the chuckle subside. “Thought my delightful charm would have done the trick.”  

When she removed her hand from his, he slipped his hand from her leg, placing it over his other hand resting on his bandaged wound. The moment was savored. With a slight narrowing of his stare, nothing more, he let several moments of silence pass in the wake of her admission before responding:

“Sleep. Hell ain’t going anywhere.” 

He rolled his head back, eyes on the ceiling once more, just for a few seconds before his own eyelids weighted shut. 

“I know you got my back….” His words softened to a trailing mumble as he drifted off to sleep himself; “Glad you’re here, Camill….”