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He stands at the cliff's edge, looking over. The wind whips at his face, peeling back layers and making him feel burned, but he doesn't flinch.
It's a ritual, a cleansing of sorts.
With the howling of the wind he can't hear the dying screams of those he dispatched. The noise is torn away from him on the sea breeze.
He tells everyone he's going up to the cabin to fish.
Sometimes, just sometimes, he comes here.

It had been something silly, he couldn't even remember what had started it, but suddenly he and Daniel were sitting side by side and just laughing.
A few moments later when they'd subsided, Jack realised he had never heard the deep and rich tones of Daniel really laughing and he wondered why. It was a good sound, rich and flowed over a person, infectious like nothing else he'd ever heard before.
Hearing it, for the first time in years, Jack found that it wasn't an effort anymore just to breathe.
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