Author's note: The characters are not mine, no money is being made.
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As he drove back into L.A. in his Taurus – nice, but not too nice, a good, solid, American car that was part of his cover – he thought about what Walsh had said. Jack Brownlee is not you. He had his doubts. He'd done some crappy things before and managed to leave them more or less at work, but this was different. This was intimate.
I could get high. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as the plan started to form. He'd tried hash a few times during the Gulf War. He remembered one of the guys from his unit had seen it as their right, a reward for doing what they did.
"That's how assassins got their name, you know," Brad had told Jack one night.
"What?"
"Yeah. Right here, man. Fcking Arabs. They'd get high on hash before they were sent out to kill someone. So they wouldn't care, you know? Called themselves the Hashashiyyin. Hashashiyyin, assassin – get it?"
Jack had looked it up later and realized the guy had only got it partly right, but the idea had worked for them at the time, and it might come in handy again now. He'd never used before a mission, and never used heavily or even regularly, just now and again to relax with the guys. Using it now was a bit risky. It might set a bad precedent. He'd seen what could happen to guys under cover who started using. Sleeping with someone isn't a regular mission, he reminded himself.
He knew where to score thanks to his days with the LAPD. Fortunately, he'd been working SWAT, not undercover, so there wasn't a risk of being recognized.
Tucking the small foil package safely into his wallet, Jack bummed a smoke off a guy as he left the pool hall. He'd smoke them together later when he got back to his apartment. He didn't want to drive under the influence – the last thing he needed was to attract the attention of local law enforcement. It wasn't as good a hit as hot-knifing, but it left less evidence. He still remembered Teri wondering how he could burn the ends of not one, but two knifes getting toast out of the toaster while she and Kim had been visiting her sister Carol one weekend.
"Why didn't you unplug it? Don't you know how dangerous that is?" She'd wondered. Guys can be so stupid sometimes. Even the smart ones.
Brad didn't come over much after that. It's not that Teri would have minded that much. After all, they'd smoked enough joints together in their time. He just felt sheepish admitting the truth. Here he was a grown man with a daughter and a good job – a cop, no less – doing hash with his buddy like a college student. He smiled at the memory.
He opened the door to his apartment, tossing the keys on the small table inside the front door and his jacket on the chair.
Jack Brownlee isn't as tidy as Jack Bauer.
The light on his answering machine was blinking.
"Jack, buddy!" It was Fred. "Dwayne and some of the guys are coming over to watch the game. I think Ja-ane might come over too to hang out with Stella." Fred's voice was sing-songy, teasing. "Come over around 7:00. Bring some beer."
Perfect. That gave him half an hour, and Fred's place was just around the corner. He poured himself a bowl of cereal. His stomach was churning, but he hadn't eaten all day and he didn't want the beers that he'd be drinking to go to his head too fast. Then he smoked the hash and turned on the shower to wash off the smoke smell. He hadn't been a smoker since Teri got pregnant with Kim. The hot water felt good. Really good. Sooo good…
Sh-t. This stuff is strong! He'd have to be careful.
A few minutes later he was sitting on Fred's couch, Jane standing over him, offering to get him something to eat.
"Sure, honey." Don't call her sweetheart. Never sweetheart. That's only for Teri. "Now that you mention it, I am kind of… hungry." He allowed his eyes to move over her, lingering on those amazing tits before reaching her face.
He groaned inwardly. Oh jeez, that was corny. He was really out of practice.He tried to make his eyes smolder. Maybe the hash had been a bad idea. He was having a bit of trouble keeping a straight face. Focus, Jack.
Jane paused, checking to see if he was serious. There was a hint of a grin, but maybe he was just relaxing at last. He was always wound so tight.
Hmmm. What's got into him? You wouldn't have thought he knew I existed yesterday.
She let him wait for a bit, then came back from the kitchen and set down a plate with a sandwich on the table in front of him, bending low so her top gaped open just at his eye level. He looked at her, putting his hand on her back lightly. He'd already downed two of the beers he'd brought over, making this a little easier than he'd anticipated.
"Thanks, Jane." He let his hand slide further down her body as she straightened.
"Any time," she purred, lifting her already short skirt to step over his outstretched legs. He could hear her giggling with Stella when she got back to the kitchen.
"Atta boy, Jack!" laughed Frank. "I'm sure she'd feed you more than a sandwich if you wanted."
"Oh yeah? Well, let's just see about that." Jack stood up. He hadn't touched the sandwich. His stomach was in knots.
"Hey, Jack! Where you goin'?" Dwayne asked. "The game's still on!"
"Oh, it's on, alright. Game on, man." He high-fived Dwayne and headed towards the kitchen, followed by the hoots and jeers of the other guys.
I'm so sorry, Teri. He allowed himself one last thought of her, then turned off the switch in his head labeled Bauer and gave himself to his new identity.
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A few hours later Jack lay in the dark of his bedroom, Jane tucked under his arm, asleep already.
Oh, my f-cking god.
His legs were still shaking and his balls ached. He had been shocked at how aggressive she had been. He had never been f-cked as hard and long as that. You couldn't call it making love. Not by a long shot. He and Teri were always more gentle with each other.
That was amazing. She was A. Maze. Ing.
He felt guilty even thinking it. Suddenly he had to get to the bathroom. He pulled his arm out from under Jane, not even caring if he woke her. He ran into the bathroom and closed the door, turning on the water in the sink just in time to cover the noise as he retched into the toilet. He leaned back against the side of the tub, held the back of his head with his hands and sobbed.