Audrey lay in bed, watching his naked back, as he was talking to the woman who stood out there. She only knew her briefly, from a few phone calls with CTU, Agent Dessler. She and Jack had come here to DC for the DoD debrief, probably Erin Driscoll had sent Agent Dessler along as a watchdog for Jack.
She heard that they were talking about plane tickets, just like Jack had expected. He had opened the door only for a small gap, leaving the door chain in place, so that she wouldn't even think of coming in here. And above all, he demonstratively hadn't put any clothes on. Probably the one out there could see through the tiny gap that he was naked. After a few moments, she gave him some papers and left.

Audrey cuddled into the blankets and watched him come back over to the bed. She couldn't really take her eyes off him.
God, what had she been thinking? She was married, damnit! But then again, she was separated. And it was only for one night, right? Jack had the plane ticket back to L.A. already in his hand.
Usually, she wasn't into bad guys. She remembered other girls who she'd known at a younger age, and they had always been after the bad guys, the ones with the motorcycles and the hockey players… but that just wasn't her thing. This man is a dope addict. He has killed over 170 people. He just brought a whole Mexican drug cartel down. He could kill you in an instant.
She should have been afraid of him, but she wasn't. There was a soft side in him, one that – she guessed – he didn't show too many people, if any.

As he came over, he picked up a few of their clothes that lay in his way, bringing them back to the bed.

She saw the United Airways logo on the papers that he put down on the bedside table. Part of her was sad, that he'd leave so soon. Part of her was relieved that this night wouldn't have any further complications.

"When does your flight leave?", she asked, catching herself to hope for a later hour.

"Twelve o clock." He looked at his wristwatch. It was nine by now. They had almost had sex for a whole hour, thereafter lying in bed, making out, until Michelle's appearance had rudely disturbed them.
Jack sat at the bed, looking down to her. She was smiling, as she cuddled into the blankets. He didn't need to ask her how she was – she was obviously feeling great, her face showed that from far.
"Don't you need to go to work?", he asked her, finally. He reached out and softly brushed some blonde strands out of her face.

She shook her head, smiling. "I can start as late as eleven, if I want to." She closed her eyes again for a moment, but then she ripped them open again, remembering, "When do we have to clear the room?"

"Eleven, I guess."
He looked around, aimlessly. There were some things, that he needed to do. Take a shower… pack his few things… get a fix. Definitely. It was high time. There was even more, which came into his mind. He had to find a job. Had to… No, getting detox didn't even make it on the list, although he subconsciously knew that this was the biggest thing of all. He pushed this out of his mind.
He didn't even notice that Audrey slowly stretched out her hand, to grab his. It gave him a start, when she touched him, calling him "Jack?"

She had ripped him out of his horrible daydreams. "Yes?"

"Everything alright?", she asked, worriedly looking up to his face. She didn't know what was going on behind his blue eyes, but it could be nothing good. Whenever he was given a few minutes for himself, he seemed to remember awful things, getting that sad stare.

He hurriedly nodded yes, just like the world was always expecting to hear.

She knew him better already. "Do you need another shot?", she asked him.

Unwillingly, his eyes touched upon the equipment that still lay on the bedside table, but at her side of the bed. He couldn't believe to see these things lying around openly. "Did I really do this… you know, in front of you?"

She pulled the blanket around her shoulders and slowly sat up. He still looked past her, at the things.
"Yes you did" She stretched out her hands and grabbed his both arms. "I wanted you to."

He turned back to her. "Why?"

She couldn't really put it into words. She hadn't wanted to leave him alone, yesterday night. And above all, she hadn't wanted to leave at all, sitting with him there, for hours, talking about his life, her life, about his time Mexico, about the drugs, about her marriage, about their both problems… there was nothing that they couldn't talk about. Time just flew by.
"I'm sorry.", she murmured, looking into his eyes. "I guess I just didn't want to leave." She had talked him into it, into doing this and letting her watch.

"This is so damn embarrassing.", he remarked, lowering his view. "I never wanted anyone to see me doing this." No, not even her. Every time that he prepared another shot for himself, he felt like a big piece of scum. Why wasn't he able to stop? The mission had been over, days ago. He could have stopped weeks ago – no, even months ago. The Salazar's wouldn't have minded it, once after he had gained their trust. Probably they would have even appreciated.
He was torn. He wanted her to stay, but he didn't want her to see this.
He hated the clock that was ticking, giving them only one or two more hours, though he would have wanted to talk to her, for whole days. He didn't deserve to be with her, not for one single second. "You should have ran away from me.", he sighed, "Instead of staying."

"No."
She leant over to the bedside table and grabbed this things. "Here."

What, did she want to see him do this again, now? "You wanna ruin the last one and a half hours that we still have with that?"

"You won't have much time to do this once you go to the airport, right?" She could feel his hands tremble slightly, and she could see the occasional second, in which his face got distorted in pain, whenever his body reminded him it was time for this. "And besides, it won't take you one and a half hours to recover." She slightly smiled, as she thought back, "I still remember when we were counting the minutes until you'd wake up and be able to stand on your feet again."

He remembered every second of that, too. "You saved my life with this." She had been there for him, when had struggled, she had been the one watching the effects that the drug had on him, helping him prepare for the things that would await him down the border. "You really did."

"It was a pleasure."

"Really?" He couldn't believe that. Sadly smiling, he looked into her eyes. God, he didn't deserve to be here, not one second. He didn't even deserve to know her. How could he have ever let her into this room, let this wonderful person be in one room with someone like him? Sleeping with someone like him? "I can hardly believe that you're here with me now, after all you saw. Did I force you to sleep with me last night?" Sober, he probably would have never even dared to kiss her.

She laughed, shaking her head. "No." Actually, it had been right the other way round. He had barely woken up from his drug-induced stadium of apathy yesterday night, when she had decided to kiss him. He would have never refused to anything, in that state. "It was a great night." It was no lie. It had been the best night that she'd had in months, full of slow sex and passionate kisses. She couldn't really compare it to having sex with Paul… which had become a dispassionate, almost mechanical act, no matter how many flowers he'd bring, to apologize for everything and to talk her into having another try.
"At least for me." Throughout the whole night, she had lain there, watching him sleep his high off, guessing that it had been the drugs, that had made him forget anything else and dissolve into her.

"I'm sorry that can't remember a thing.", Jack sighed. It was embarrassing.
He took the vial, which lay in between them, into his hands, to have a look at it. It was good for this one shot – he had planned it to be like that. Transporting that thing in an airplane always was a risk, which could easily get him into jail for possession again – for real, this time. "I hate doing this."

She leant forward and slowly put his arms around him, hugging him. "I know. You said that."

He closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck. He shouldn't delay this any longer, he knew. Take the shot now and get it over with. Head to the airport and go 'home', if that was really a place that he could call that way. It was an empty apartment, which he had rented two weeks ago, after coming back. Half of his things were still in storage after having been evicted, the other half was somewhere at a storage at CTU.
The only thing that was really waiting for him was another vial, well hidden behind an air register in the bathroom. As much as he hated doing this – the thought of going through withdrawal was even worse.

As Audrey let him go, he straightened up again, grabbing the vial and the syringe. The simple look at these two things was telling him, that he wasn't strong enough to get rid of them. The cover story had worked out just too well – making him turn into the person that he'd just want to act. A weak piece of shit, too weak to say no, too weak to quit. A person that simply needed this stuff.

Though he avoided to look into her eyes, Audrey silently watched his, as he drew a bit of the colorless liquid into the syringe and tied the band around his arm. She could see the hurt in them. He could no longer tell himself that he was doing it for the mission, or not to get killed. There was no sense in doing this, and he knew that, but nevertheless, he couldn't stop, because the world around him still required him to function, somehow, sentencing him at the same time for doing it.
Just before he stung into his vein, she called him to halt "Jack?"

He looked up.

"You are more than only this.", she whispered, looking into his blue eyes. She couldn't even imagine how it was, to be the one, who others were pointing their fingers at, talking in the quiet, reducing him only to his weakness. Nobody, no person who she'd met at DoD, familiar with his case, still saw the lead agent of CTU in him, or the one who had brought down the Salazar cartel, or the one who had stopped another major terrorist threat. Negating the things that he had achieved, they clawed into his weakness. "You did not fail.", she said, determinedly.

"I did", he breathed.

"It's what others see in you now, but it's not the truth. They are all wrong." She grabbed his face with her hands, desperately trying to kill this sadness in his eyes. "I always believed in you."

He couldn't believe her words. "You did?"

"It was not a mistake, to believe in you." She silently nodded, looking into his eyes, even trying to show him a little smile. "Until two weeks ago… I guess I was the only one to know your secret…" She knew that it would all be way easier for him, if nobody had ever found out about his addiction. Then he wouldn't bear this stigma for the rest of his life. "I called CTU every two weeks to hear how you were doing… and every other time Tony Almeida told me about the progress that you were making down there, the things that you did, the information they got, through you… and I knew under which conditions you were doing all that. I knew better than him what you were putting on the line to get this job done."

He lowered his view, finding the syringe in his hands.

"Every time I called, I got it confirmed, that you have this under control, and that you were doing the right things.", she said, slowly moving forward, until their foreheads touched. "You did not fail.", she repeated, forcefully.

She felt him tremble beneath her touch. She could feel all the tension in him, and it was like she could read his thoughts in that moment.

"I don't wanna do this", he spoke under his breath.

"I know." She really did. Her eyes followed his, down to the syringe. He really didn't want to do this, he hadn't wanted it back then, and he didn't want it now. She knew that, even if the whole world out there refused to believe this.

They sat like this, for another few moments, in silence, before he finally did, what his body demanded him to do.

.

.