Here we are with the latest update to our story. Please accept my apologies if it was little bit delayed but all I can say is that I got caught up in a book and it took me away from my keyboard for awhile. As always, no harm is intended with the creation of this work of fiction. I'm not sure exactly who "owns" 24 and its characters and themes, but I do know that it's not me:) Thank you for reading and if you have any thoughts or feedback, it would be greatly appreciated. I should note that I do not have any personal experience with drug addiction/withdrawal and I've relied heavily on internet research which I hope was accurate. If something seems highly off, feel free to comment or drop me a note. I really did want to try to make this realistic (as much as is possible in the 24 universe). SS.
Jack sat on his side of the bed taking note of the fact that he still considered it HIS side of the bed. Kate did as well as indicated by the bucket and pills placed out for him. He took the pills, doubting that they would make much of a difference to the clenching pain in his stomach nor to the aches that had built up all over the rest of his body. He laid back finally, giving in to the exhaustion that seemed to be an almost permanent part of his existence.
He shifted until he was laying on his back beneath the blankets, wrapped in the familiar scent that undeniably defined his life with Kate. She walked across the room dressed in a pair of pink and white striped pyjama pants and an over-sized grey tee that floated over her lean frame. He still couldn't really believe that she had let him stay. He hated what he was about to put her through – not that he really knew what was up ahead – but he knew that he couldn't do it alone.
He didn't think he could break this addiction on his own, but he sure as hell wasn't going to the military hospital/rehab facility chosen by CTU. He didn't need someone looking into the underlying issues that had led to his addiction. He didn't need someone recording these issues as some sort of official record – no matter how confidential they might say it would be. He quite honestly wasn't even sure if he felt comfortable considering a private facility. He didn't want to trace the source of his addiction; he just wanted to bury it deep inside and move on. Just like he did with everything else.
Kate returned to the room and he couldn't help but watch her move; he was reminded of the beauty and grace that had drawn him to her initially. That and her strength of character that he had recognized before he had consciously recognized the other two. Maybe it had been her strength that had guided him here today as well. He hadn't done so on purpose; his body had made the decisions without input from his brain. He had recognized the route he had driven but hadn't even thought enough to question his route or his final destination. Drawn to a place where he had known instinctively that he would be accepted and safe, maybe even loved.
His eyes tracked her as she walked over to his side of the bed and closed the blinds, not seeming to notice his attention or maybe she did, but she studiously avoided it. His eyes still followed as she made her way to the other side and closed those blinds as well. He wasn't sure if she still loved him. He knew how he felt about her. Of course, he loved her. He had left her because he loved her but laying here now, waiting for her to lie next to him, he knew he couldn't leave her again. She would have to force him to go. To tell him that she didn't want him in her life. He knew that she would be making the best decision for herself if she did. As much as he knew it – that she deserved so much more than the man that he was – he knew that the only way he could find the strength to leave her again was if she asked him to do it.
She turned off the bedside lamp and despite the early hour, there was a reasonable amount of darkness in the room. She had lain on her back as well, on HER side of the bed, with barely a foot of space between them. Still, the space seemed like a gaping chasm. Then, she moved and her fingers were entwined in his and he closed his eyes, savouring the contact. He opened them and turned his head, finding her eyes looking gently upon him.
She shifted to her side, still keeping her hand in his, but raised her other and traced her fingers through the hair at his temple and along the shell of his ear. Shivers traveled from her fingertips, along his neck and down his spine.
"Get some rest, Jack," she said softly and his eyes fluttered closed and he thought about opening them and wishing her goodnight or telling her that he loved her but unsure if he should say both or neither. He drifted asleep before he had come up with an answer.
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She had barely been asleep for an hour when the first nightmare hit him. To be fair, she couldn't know that it was his first nightmare since she wasn't actually present in his dreams. To be honest, the nightmare didn't really hit him so much as it had hit her – or he had hit her in response to it.
Nightmares were not a new presence in their bed. He often experienced them after a particularly stressful work situation. Sometimes he would remember them and talk to her about them, but often, they disappeared with his wakening and he would never remember; they would eventually just fade away. Normally, he would start to twitch in reaction, or make sounds that would wake her enough that she could wake him before they fully took hold.
This had not been the case this night.
Either he hadn't reacted as he had all of those past times, or she had been so deeply asleep that she hadn't awakened. Either way, the sharp jab of his elbow in her arm had jolted her awake just as his arm slammed across her chest. She sat up quickly and moved to shake him awake, calling his name. He didn't wake fully, but seemed to calm enough that she released one shoulder so that she could stroke his brow, hoping to ease the creases there.
His forehead was clammy to the touch and she checked his neck and found the same. The shirt he wore was damp with sweat and he moaned, curling his body into a fetal position. She rubbed her hand against his back, feeling shivers rack his body.
She felt helpless in the face of his suffering. It had started already, his withdrawals, and she didn't know what she should be doing. She had slept through the brief respite she might have had instead of doing the research she had planned. She just hadn't thought it would hit him so soon.
'Well, Kate, think about this logically,' she told herself. 'He's going to be uncomfortable throughout this. Just do what you can to minimize his discomfort.'
Satisfied that she had come up with something productive to do, she left the bed and went to get a few cold cloths. Returning, she wiped his brow and the back of his neck. The cold seemed to wake him a little more and he moaned her name.
"I'm right here, Jack," she said softly next to his ear, wiping the cloth over his hair.
He moaned again, mumbling as he did and then he struggled to move himself upright. She tried to push him back down, to get him to lay back on the bed. Finally, a word came clearly through his moans – "sick" – and she reacted to it just in time to grab the bucket and hold it next to him as he retched into it. His body heaved again and again, but little was expelled and she knew that likely he hadn't anything in his stomach to give over to its heaving.
This she knew without any internet research. Her own morning sickness had been so severe that she had spent many hours on the floor of her bathroom until she had found a way to conquer it. She could only hope that her method would work for him.
She lay the cold cloth along the back of his neck. Stroking his back, she whispered soothingly: "Shhh, Jack. Take a deep breath, in through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth."
She breathed with him, rubbing his back, shushing and soothing until finally many minutes passed since the last heaves of his stomach and he collapsed back against the pillows. She left him to rinse the cloths and returned, laying one against his forehead and with the other, she wiped the spittle from his face and then tossed it on the nightstand. He seemed to fall back into a somewhat restful sleep. She left his side and took up a vigil at the workstation where she could hopefully find some quick answers to her questions about what might lie ahead.
The next hours passed in a haze for Kate. Jack seemed to sleep very little, constantly moaning and trembling with his pain, interrupted occasionally by his vomiting or his body's attempting to do so. The sun was rising when he seemed to gain a moment's respite from it all. She had moved the armchair to his bedside and sat next to him, her eyes heavy as she ran her fingers lightly across his brow.
"Kate," his voice rasped when he spoke, "you should get some sleep."
"I'm fine," she assured with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She was exhausted, but she didn't want him to know it.
"Lay down here with me," he said, sliding over to make room for her on his side of the bed.
"I'm fine right here," she assured, the back of her mind turning to her awakening, hours earlier, and the more recent tremors and vomiting she had watched him endure. "But you should sleep. You need it."
When he looked as though he might continue to argue, she shifted until her hand was wrapped in his and she pillowed her head on her arm. She raised her head again and smiled slightly at him again. "How's this?"
He seemed like he wanted to continue to argue, but his own fatigue got the better of him and he closed his eyes and lay back as well, his thumb tracing slow circles on her hand.
The next time she woke up she was disoriented for a moment, unsure of where she was or how much time had passed. She wasn't sure what had woken her – the breaking of contact with Jack or the movement of the bed – but she was suddenly wide awake as she realized he was standing on her side of the bed near the foot.
"Jack, where are you going?" she asked, rising almost instantly to her feet.
"I'm just going to get my bag so I can change my clothes," he said and although his answer seemed innocent enough, there was something that niggled at the back of her brain that told her it was something more.
"I'll go get your things," she offered, moving to the table where he had dropped his cellphone and his keys.
"It's fine, Kate," he said. "You stay here and rest."
There it was again, something off in his body language. He walked toward her as he spoke, presumably to collect his keys, and that's when she realized it. He wasn't looking her in the eye, not even looking at her face.
"No, I'll get it," she said, firmly, walking past him and toward the door. He grabbed her arm and spun her around.
"Kate…"
"No, Jack. I'm not letting you go out to the car."
She pulled against his grip on her wrist, almost throwing her body toward the door, her other hand stretched forward, instinctively keeping the keys as far away from him as possible. He jerked her arm sharply and she was suddenly up against his hard body.
"Give me the keys, Kate," he bit the words off sharply, his jaw clenched tightly.
"No, I won't let you go."
She met his steely glare with one of her own and felt her jaw tighten with her own resolve. He was breathing hard and rapidly.
"I… Need… the Keys…" He enunciated each word with a harsh breath.
"No," she answered simply but firmly.
He stared at her and she wanted to cringe at the coldness of his gaze, but she held her ground. His breaths coming more quickly and forcefully. Suddenly, he yelled and shoved her backward. She tripped and fell, her head glancing off the edge of the door that stood open into the room. The blow had been slight but the glance dazed her all the same and he quickly snatched the keys from her hand and strode out the door. She pushed the pain to the background and jumped to her feet, racing after him. She reached out to grab him but only succeeded in latching on to his wrist. His fist tightened around the keys in his grasp.
"Please, Jack, no," she cried, holding tightly onto his arm, stumbling behind him. "Please don't do this. Please don't give up. Please don't do this to me."
He stopped but still faced away from her, his focus solely at the door that lay ahead of him.
"Please, Jack. You've come so far. Done so much. The worst is almost behind you. Don't waste it all. Don't waste all the work you've done. Don't throw away all that we've done."
He turned back finally to look at her, his eyes meeting hers then and she wanted to cry with the pain and turmoil she found in his.
"Kate…"
His hand trembled as he brought it up to hover near her face. He didn't seem to notice the trembling. He touched the edge of her brow ever-so-slightly and as his fingers came away, she saw a trace of red on their tips.
"Please, Jack," she said through the tears that she thought she had held back, but clearly hadn't. "Please stay here with me. Stay with us."
His fingertips just barely brushed against her face again and then he pulled his hand back and clasped it into a fist. He closed his eyes just as his face crumbled into tears and he dropped to his knees. The keys dropped from his grasp and he covered his face with his hands. Kate grabbed the keys and threw them down the hall and then dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to her.
"I can't do it, Kate, I can't do it, I can't do it."
"You can," she said softly, holding and rocking him. "You are. You're doing it now. Just keep doing it."
"I'm so sorry," he said then over and over.
"Shhh," she whispered and tightened her grip on him.
Suddenly, he shoved her back and rose haphazardly to his feet, half running, half stumbling until he dropped back to his knees in front of the toilet. She sat for a moment, closing her eyes and giving over to the weariness for just a moment before rising up and moving back to his side.
Well, there you have it, the latest chapter. Thanks again for reading. Reviews, as always, are valued and appreciated. SS.