"Dammit." He slumped against her.
"Jack, it's okay."
"It's not okay, Kate." Jack's mouth was twisted with bitterness as he rolled off of her and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he lied. He knew exactly. The literature he'd read listed this as a side effect of heroin, but he hadn't really taken it seriously. Just as he hadn't really expected to get hooked. But I could sure use a fix now.
Kate propped herself on one elbow and reached under his long-sleeved t-shirt for his chest, lightly running her hand over his muscles. She paused, as she always did, when she reached the scars from that day. The day they'd met, almost two years ago. The day he'd died. She shrugged. "You've been under a lot of stress lately. It happens." He grunted, looking away. It never used to happen to me.
"Listen, it's late," she said gently. "We should probably get some sleep, anyway." She snuggled into him, lifting his arm around her as she laid her head on his chest. He squeezed her lightly and kissed her hair. "Okay."
Kate's understanding just made it worse. He was disgusted with himself and what he was doing to his body, and to her.
He waited until her breathing was deep and even before he slowly pulled his arm out from under her. She stirred slightly, but settled back into the pillow that had been warmed by his head. Slowly, Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there, burying his head in his hands to keep them from shaking. And this is only the beginning. He would have to slow down or he'd be no good to anyone. He took a deep, ragged breath and let his hands slide down his face as he raised his head.
He'd been using for just over a month now, since just after he got back from Canada. He hadn't expected this to happen so fast. He had thought he was stronger than this.
It had been surprisingly easy. Once he'd decided on his course of action, he had gone to see his old army buddy Brad. Brad had been the "go to" guy for hash back in Desert Storm, and Jack knew his friend had stayed, well, had stayed 'in touch' with the drug culture. Brad wasn't in the army any more. If the file was right, he wasn't doing much of anything any more.
Jack pulled up in front of the low-rise apartment building and hesitated for a moment, his hand on the door handle of his SUV and his eyes on the dingy edifice. Rust stains were running down the chipped stucco from the railings around the faux balconies on the second floor. The untrimmed shrubs in front were choked with litter, and the security door was propped open with a brick.
He got out and locked his vehicle. He pocketed his sunglasses as he strode to the door and pulled it open, checking the list for Brad's name before heading up the stairs to #324. He knocked on the door, lightly at first, then a bit louder. There was some rustling and the door opened a crack, held on a chain. "Yeah?"
Brad looked up and down the hall before he had a good look at his visitor. His expression softened with surprise and pleasure when he recognized his friend.
"Jack Bauer? Holy shit! Come on in, man." The door closed while Brad removed the chain. He threw it open again, holding it wide as he ushered Jack into his bachelor apartment. Jack stepped in and glanced around. Dirty dishes littered the coffee table and floor beside the couch. The place reeked of old cigarette smoke, and a slightly sweeter odour. A couple of pot plants stood in one corner, near the window but out of view of the door.
"Jack. Jack-ay!" Brad clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder. "It's good to see you, Captain. How long's it been?"
"Too long, man." Jack was shocked at the change in his friend. Brad had always been thick-set and muscular. Now he was so thin, Jack was afraid to breathe too hard for fear of knocking him down. Dark circles under his eyes and pale, almost waxy skin spoke of a life of dissipation. Jack knew he had come to the right place.
"So what's up? Can I get you something?" Without waiting for a response, Brad opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one to Jack.
Jack shrugged. "I dunno, man. I was feeling like a party. I got to thinking about old times and thought I'd look you up."
Brad smiled slyly. "No one knows how to party like me, that's for sure. Old ball and chain know you're out?"
Jack looked away as he took a pull on his beer. "No. Teri died a few years ago, Brad." He turned to face his friend. Brad stared at him for a minute, then broke his gaze, as if what he'd seen in Jack's eyes made him nervous.
"Jeez, Jack. I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's alright." He shrugged again. "I'm seeing someone else. She's cool." His casual tone didn't quite mask his pain.
"Okay." Brad laughed uncomfortably before letting his face break into a grin. "So let's get you wasted, man."
Whatever else Brad was, he was perceptive. Jack appreciated that. "Okay."
It had taken a bit of manoeuvring, but a few beers, a couple of joints and two hours later, Brad brought out the hard stuff. Jack had struggled with this: at first he hadn't wanted anyone to see him use for the first time, but then he'd realized that was stupid. His heart seemed to have suffered no long-term effects from his interrogation experience, but you never know how you'll react, and he didn't want Kim to have to come and identify him at the morgue if he accidentally overdosed. No. Better to try it first with someone he trusted, but who didn't move in the same circles and who wouldn't rat him out. Plus, he reasoned, if he had to do it, he may as well enjoy it.
He played it carefully. He didn't want to seem too eager – he had to let Brad talk him into it without making it too difficult to be convinced. Jack watched carefully as Brad prepared his kit and cooked a dose, mentally taking notes. He was familiar with the theory, and he'd seen it done a number of times, but he'd never taken a personal interest. Getting it right could be the difference between life and death.
Jack put the needle against his arm, letting the tip press on his skin. He could see the blue line of the vein pulsing below the surface. Well, here goes nothing. He jabbed and pushed the plunger.
Almost immediately, he knew everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be fucking fantastic. He had never felt like this. Ever. This was… he felt a wave of nausea and fought it, slumping back against the couch. Holy shit.
Half an hour later, the feeling was gone, and already, he wanted it back.
In the days and weeks between then and now, he'd started using every day, sometimes more than once. He told himself it was necessary, that he had to be convincing and build up his tolerance fairly quickly, or the Salazars would get suspicious. He didn't want to admit to himself how much he looked forward to that needle at the end of the day. He had changed his routine to go for a 'run' at the end of the day after work. He'd jog to a park with his kit in the pocket of his hoodie. There he would head to a secluded spot among the trees and fix, floating on the scent of eucalypts.
The down side was he didn't want to eat anything when he got home. He hadn't had a decent meal with Kate for ages, even though she was still cooking for him. The first few weeks, the sex had been amazing, but lately he would often have to go to bed early as he came down. He could tell he was more moody and irritable than usual. Kate seemed to attribute it to stress from work, and he let her think that. No one at work suspected anything.
Jack sighed and turned to look at Kate, sleeping peacefully behind him. Her blond hair was splayed out on the pillow around her head like a halo. It fit her personality. He reached out a hand and gently traced the line from her temple to her chin with the back of his index finger.
He hadn't told her that he was leaving yet. At first he thought that they would be able to stay together even while he was away, but now he saw that wouldn't be possible. He knew that, right now, if someone told him he had to choose between never seeing Kate again and never using again, he would choose the heroin. He wasn't proud of it. But it was true. Jack realized that right now, he would give up almost anything before he would give up that half hour of peace every day.
Truth was, he was looking forward to going under and being able to use as much as he wanted. That thought made him more afraid of this mission than any other he had ever taken on.