Inconsequential in the long run...

~ "Jared slipped into the pool and lay floating and, for all intents and purposes, not thinking about anything. His back ached and his leg throbbed. Therapy. Wasn't therapy supposed to make you feel better?
After a long time ever so gradually his pain subsided back into edgy numbness. He glided out towards the middle of the pool, slipping through the water with a slow, even backstroke. The pool was empty but for him, the gym mostly dark. With his ears beneath the water he was closed off from the world. Suspended in his own universe. A sharp twinge shooting up his leg made him gasp and stiffen. 'Don't kick, just don't kick!'
"...Trying to kick while you're swimming is a good way to rebuild muscle and increase your range of motion Jared."
"Doc, swimming is my therapy for your therapy. I won't kick. It hurts..."
He gave another tiny experimental kick. Well, maybe it wasn't to very bad...If he kept his foot straight...And limited motion in his thigh.
He reached the far end and turned to go back the other way. He was dreaming lazily of what he'd have for dinner when a cheerful voice from the edge of his universe brought him around.
"Great job Jare! You're trying to kick like Dr. Cooper said!"
Jared stopped swimming and twisted to see Sam standing by the pool in khakis and a green sweater with an insufferably encouraging look on his face.
"I was not kicking!", Jared immediately, illogically, and loudly denied. And, in order to hopefully keep Sam from restating what he knew to be true, followed it up with, "And don't call me Jare!"
Sam looked at him like he was crazy (yeah well maybe he was!) and finally seemed to decide that, since he had no weapon to hand, Jared could keep his harmless delusion for now. He sat down by the ladder, pulled off his shoes and dangled his feet in the cool water.
Jared figured that he could either force Sam to tell him what was up now or he could ignore Sam and finish his swim and wait for him to give in first. He chose the latter.
He took his time, back and forth, for a good half hour, all the while studiously not looking in Sam's direction. As much as he was loathe to admit it he finally got tired and made for dry land. It had been a longer swim then he was used to.
And there Sam still sat. He had to give the man credit; patience is, after all, a virtue.
Jared hauled himself out and sat on the edge next to his friend and partner, casually studying the gym, the pool, his dead leg and dripping nonchalantly.
"Wanna get something to eat?", Sam asked his fingernail.
"Yeah sure." Jared replied to the towel.
An hour later they were sprawled on Jared's couch, 10 Chinese take-out boxes and four beers spread out on the coffee table between them and a Giants game on TV.
Jared watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam busily poked holes in an empty carton with a chopstick. He finally snatched the adulterated carton from Sam's fingers, crushed it between his hands and threw it across the room.
"Ok, what is it?", he demanded.
"What's what?", asked Sam who had immediately transitioned to trying to spin the chopstick across his knuckles.
"What's going on? I know you're waiting to tell me something."
"Good grief Jared, anybody would think that we're some old married couple or something."
"They can think whatever they want, won't bother me." Jared stared Sam down, intent on getting his answer.
"Ok, so they offered me a run in Carolina...I took it."
Jared just gazed passively at Sam for a minute. He was suddenly very aware of his numb leg and Sam suddenly got very absorbed in his twirling chopstick.
Jared shook himself. "Ok...Congratulations. So why ya' telling me?"
Blast it all! His voice sounded thick even to himself!" ~
~It's mine, all mine.