Well, here we are with the next installment in my little Jack – Kate world. At this point, I think the scene has been set so no need for such a lengthy author's note. The characters here do not belong to me and no harm is intended in their use in this fictional work. Please don't sue. But, please read and if you like what you've read (or not), please leave me a note. Scarlet.

Finding His Way Back Home – Chapter Two

He looked at the beautiful woman in front of him, nearly brought to tears with the thought of imagined injuries to his friends and family. He knew he didn't deserve her love. He thought of all he had done over the past months that proved that he didn't deserve any of what she was offering - didn't deserve it but needed it desperately.

"No one died, honey," he reached up and brushed away the slight moisture that had gathered at the corner of her eye.

'Just me,' he thought.

She had closed her eyes briefly and leaned into his touch and he found himself drawn closer to her until he pulled her into his arms. She fit against him so perfectly, soft and warm and was everything he needed and wasn't. His eyes drifted shut and he inhaled the scent of her hair as her arms wrapped around him and squeezed him tightly.

"Jack, I missed you," she whispered against his shoulder and the watery tone of her voice tugged at his heart. He thought of all the wrongs he had done to her and yet she was here - accepting him, loving him. He thought of everything that had happened over the day, of everything his job had taken from him and how he had almost let it take her as well.

Maybe it had. She still didn't know the worst of it all, the worst of all he had done. Once she did, she might not wrap her arms around him so tightly. She might not open her door to him so quickly. Instead, she might drive a needle into his arm and push the plunger down herself.

His stomach clenched in reaction to his thoughts of the drugs. His withdrawal symptoms would be getting worse, much worse than they ever had been. It was approaching twenty-four hours since he had taken the pill Ramon had given him to quell his body's reaction to the absence of the drug in his system. There would be no more such pills, no more delays. If he wanted to do this on his own terms, he needed to be sure there were no more slip-ups. His meeting with Hammond an hour earlier had proven it.

He thought about the woman in his arms. She would help him. Help him beat this on his own or find the right place if he couldn't. But how could he ask her to do it? It wasn't fair of him to even think of laying this at her feet and asking her to fix it. To toss all the broken pieces of the puzzle of his life and ask her to find a way to make them fit together again.

He released her from his embrace and stepped back, putting a little space between them. It had been difficult, the pull of her warmth nearly as strong as the call of the needle in the little kit in his truck. He walked over to the island and pulled out a chair, sitting in it while pulling out the one next to him so she would join him. She slid a cup and plate with toast in front of him before moving a matching pair in front of the chair he had pulled out and then she sat next to him.

"Kate, there is so much that happened, that I need to tell you, but I don't have time to say it all."

"It's okay, Jack," she said laying a hand over his own, resting on the counter. "You don't have to rush. Tell me in your own time."

She took her hand from his and took a drink from her tea which he assumed must have cooled a fair bit based on how she drank from the cup. She picked up a point of toast and took a small bite and his stomach clenched again. He fought the urge to bend over to ease the pain.

"Kate, when I went undercover, there are things I had to do to maintain that cover. Things that I had to do to not only maintain my cover, but to move it forward, to move the case along."

She put her toast down and took another drink from her tea. "Jack," she said softly after having put the cup down and returned her hand to covering his. "I know you have to make tough choices with your work. I know you have to make these impossible choices and sometimes you have to do these awful things but they don't define who you are. Especially not to me."

He had been able to hold her gaze as she spoke, but now he was compelled to look away. He pulled his hand from beneath hers as well.

"This time it was different."

He clasped his hands together and stared at the counter pulling a reserve of courage until he could raise his head and meet her eyes once again.

"I took drugs. Heroin actually." He watched as her eyes widened slightly but she didn't say anything or even turn away from him. "I was addicted. I am addicted."

He waited, giving her time to react, to say something. She didn't speak. She must have been able to read in him that there was still more that he needed to say. He took a deep breath and braced himself before he told her the worst.

"I had sex with other women. With one woman, Claudia, it was several times."

Her hand had still been laying on the counter, almost as if she had been waiting for him to return his to hers. She pulled it back, quickly and her eyes narrowed before she closed them completely. She shoved back from the island and turned away from him. Her breath seemed to be coming more quickly and more shallowly, her body swaying slightly and he stood up to move behind her. She must have sensed his movement because she held a halting hand out behind her, never once turning back to look at him. Her breaths continued to come quickly, but seemingly more deeply until it was as though she was gulping in the air around her. The hand she had used to block his approach dropped to the counter and she leaned against it heavily. He debated trying to approach her again and then suddenly, she ran down the hallway and into her bedroom. He followed behind, coming into an empty bedroom as the sound of her retching reached his ears.

"Kate…" he began but stopped as he entered the bathroom, finding her kneeling over the toilet. He stopped because he didn't know what to say or even what to do for her. He moved closer, intent on rubbing her back or holding her hair – something to let her know that he was here to help.

"Get away from me," she said, gaining control of her body long enough to say it. Somehow that made the soft-spoken words hit him so much harder. Here she was, just another person who was forced to suffer simply because of his presence in her life. He backed out of the room and slumped on the bed, unwilling and unable to leave until he knew she was alright.

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Kate leaned heavily against the sink, letting her nausea fade as her churning thoughts slowed into a more manageable rhythm. She could sense his presence in the other room even though she couldn't hear anything to indicate that he was still there. She knew she wouldn't let him leave. She knew that no matter what he had done, it would never change the fact that she cared about him too much to send him on his way – all alone.

But drugs – heroin – a hardcore, needles in body parts and rubber bands kind of drug. Not that any of it was any better, but the picture of someone plunging a needle in their arm just couldn't mesh with the picture she kept in her mind of the man in the other room. She had to believe that he wanted to quit – to break the addiction. Maybe it was why he had come to her. Maybe it was why he had left in the first place.

The other thing – she couldn't think about the other thing right now. Maybe tomorrow she could think about it or maybe even later tonight, but she couldn't let her mind go to that place right now. She would never be able to walk out of this room and face him if she did.

She wrung out the washcloth that she had been running under cold water and wiped her face and neck. She looked at her reflection critically in the mirror, eyes red, hair plastered against her temples, her skin pale in some areas, splotchy in others.

"Well, Kate, things could be worse."

She wasn't sure exactly how much worse things could get, but there was no point in trying to figure that out. She wasn't even ready to face the reality of her current circumstances yet. She dropped the cloth into the sink, squared her shoulders and strode purposefully into the bedroom. She found him hunched over, arms clasped around his midsection, rocking slightly with what she must assume would be the pain of withdrawal.

"Jack…"

She drew his name out but couldn't think of anything to say or do.

"Kate," he looked up at her and she caught the regret in his features. "I'm leaving now. I just had to wait to make sure that you were okay." His eyes seemed to scan her face for a moment. "Are you okay?"

She could read the pain he was feeling, not only in the hunch of his frame but in the lines on his face and yet, he was worried about her. Granted, she had just emptied the contents of her stomach basically in front of him so it was reasonable that he worry. Still, she had to imagine he felt much worse than she did at the moment.

"You're not going anywhere, Jack," she said instead of answering his question. "This," she waved over him, "this is the beginning of withdrawal. Because you are getting clean."

She said the words as a statement but even she heard the question in her voice.

"Yes, yes," he answered, his teeth slightly clenched, the first indication that he was giving over to his pain.

"Okay, so let me help you. Not that I know what to do, but…"

"Kate, you don't have to do this."

"Look, Jack, I'm not going to pretend that I know what I'm thinking or feeling right now. And, I'm not going to pretend that if I take the time to think about what you said, what you did, that I'm not going to feel really hurt." She closed her eyes and bit her lip, pushing down the emotions bubbling up to the surface. She swallowed and opened her eyes to find him staring at his feet. "But I'm here for you if you need me… and I think that you do."

He looked back up at her and she was almost overwhelmed by the relief she saw wash over him. He must not have believed until that moment that she would let him stay; that she would turn him away. She took a step closer to him, standing directly in front of him, her legs between his knees. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and as soon as she did, his arms circled her waist tightly. His head rested just below the line of her ribs and she shifted her hands, running her fingers through his hair with one hand while the other rubbed small circles against his back.

He was still for a moment and then she felt a shudder run through him; the dam was released and sobs shook his body while his arms tightened around her, searching for purchase in the current of his emotions. She took it for him, stood solid against the crash and surge of his outburst. Her emotions swirled, mostly in sympathy because the few words he spoke made little sense to her. She just held him more tightly to her while tears streamed down both of their faces.

He calmed eventually but not until her shirt was damp and her face felt sticky from her own tears. Her eyes felt heavy, as did her body and mind as well. She was sure that he must feel even more exhausted than she did. It was barely six in the evening, but she knew that they both could likely easily fall asleep and sleep for hours if they did. Despite not wanting to break contact with him, she took a step back and with her movement, he immediately dropped his arms from her waist.

"Jack," she said softly, brushing her fingers along the side of his face, from his temple across his stubbled cheek until her hand rested on his shoulder. "I'm tired and you must be exhausted. I think we both should get some sleep."

"Okay," he rasped, "let me just grab my bag from the car."

"You don't need it," she said and then elaborated: "You left a couple of t-shirts and a pair of sweats here. I didn't think you'd miss them so I didn't think to call you about them. Some nights I would wear them to bed." she added, feeling a hint of blush stain her cheeks.

She walked over to the dresser and pulled out the well-worn items and brought them back over to him.

"I still have a spare toothbrush for you in the cabinet," she added, feeling a little foolish at admitting how she still hadn't fully removed him from her life.

"Thanks, Kate," he said, standing up as he took the clothes from her. "Do you still have the extra blankets in the hall closet?"

She must have looked at him in confusion because he added: "For the spare bedroom. You don't have to make up the bed for me. I can do it myself."

She reached out to him, not sure if she needed the contact more or if he did. In that moment, she almost felt rejected by his suggestion even though a part of her was screaming that she should be the one rejecting him.

"Jack, I said I'm going to be here for you. To help you. Which means I need you here with me, not in the other room."

He looked at her hand on his arm and then met her eyes, his appreciation of what she was offering clearly evident in his expression. He went into the washroom then to change and prepare for bed and she thought about changing her clothes as well but dismissed the thought almost as quickly. She might be tired but she had a feeling she had a long night ahead of her. There were a few other things she wanted to do instead.

By the time Jack returned to the bedroom, she had set up a make-shift workspace using a folding table and the armchair from the corner of the room. She had set both up along with her laptop near the right side of the bed, knowing Jack would sleep on the left as he always did. She had found a bucket that the cleaners used and had discreetly tucked it next to the nightstand on his side of the bed. She wasn't sure if he would need it, but knew she didn't want to be searching through cupboards and closets if the time came that he did. A large glass of water sat on each night table and next to Jack's, she had left two extra-strength Advil.

Jack had raised an eyebrow at her workstation, but she had waved it off, claiming that she was just planning on a nap and then would get caught up on some work while he slept. She was going to catch a little rest - her eyes were heavy as it was. But she also planned on trying to see what kind of information she could find online about what the night ahead might have in store. She went to the closet to finally change into some sort of sleepwear (he was wearing her favourite after all) while he quietly went over to what used to be his side of the bed.

As promised, this chapter had less frequent POV changes. Hopefully it worked well for those of you reading it. Please let me know your thoughts. Scarlet.