What about Boxer?
Author's note: Didn't anyone wonder what happened to poor Boxer? He was my favorite character!
Disclaimer: I don't own any one the characters featured in this fic, nor will I try to make any money out of them. Good enough? Thank you.
Micheal Boxer sat up in bed, cold sweat on his face. He groaned, slid out of bed, careful not to wake his wife and padded down the hallway to the bathroom. Once there he splashed cold water on his face.
He had been back with the team for a month now, and his bad dreams had stopped. He had thought. He couldn't stop thinking about TJ. He couldn't get over the feelings of betrayal, the guilt at not noticing what was up with his best friend sooner, the pain. Everyday was a struggle. He went out with the team, hung-out with them, did everything he used to, but all the time, that empty feeling was there, gnawing away at the insides of his stomach.
" Hey Box!"
" Mornin' Street!"
it was the next morning and the team were in the locker room. Boxer pulled his jacket on, wincing as his neck twinged.
" You okay, Box?"Dan 'Hondo' Harrelson, the team leader, asked him.
" Sure." Boxer replied.
Hondo's eyes lingered on him for a second, as if he was unsure whether to believe him or not, but Boxer gave him what he hoped was a convincing nod and he turned away.
" All right team." Hondo began, " We've got a busy schedule today. Training all day, unless something comes are way. Got it?"
" Yes Hondo." The team chorused.
" All right. I'll meet you on the range. Go, go,go!"
The team ran out Boxer close behind, but Hondo stopped him.
" Boxer, tell me the truth. What's up?"
" Nothing sir." Boxer couldn't believe that Hondo was that blind.
" It's TJ, isn't it?" Well, maybe not that blind!
" Look Michael. I'm not going to listen to any bullshit. No excuses, got me?"
" Yes sir."