I lately read the book 'beautiful things' (which was effectively the drug-confession story of Hunter Biden). I thought it was an interesting book and I see it as an inspiration for Jack's journey through his addiction.

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Post-S3, 2 weeks later: Day 1 (continued)

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"How did it feel like?"

"What do yo mean?"

"You said you almost OD'd. How did it feel like?" Audrey couldn't hide her curiosity. She was still shocked about it, but she wanted to know more. An overdose. This was exactly how one of her friends had died, years ago. She'd seen a photo of the corpse – it had looked horrible and for quite a long time she'd wondered if her friend had suffered, that night.
She had always thought Jack would have his addiction under control, at least that much not to be in danger of catching an overdose.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't remember a thing. They told me they had to revive me.", his craggy voice told her.

A cold shiver ran down her back. At least he hadn't been alone… hearing that disturbed her as well. She had never pictured him using drugs in front of other people. "Where were you?"

"At a place not far from here. I don't wanna shoot up in the apartment. Doesn't feel right." He had always tried to retreat to a lonely place, no matter if it was down in Mexico or after coming back. Down in a hole was just the right place to be. He had heard stories of some high-level executives who used bathroom breaks every twenty minutes to light a crackpipe. He would never be one of those. Nothing felt more wrong than to bring two worlds together that deserved to be kept apart: the world of the man he wanted to be and the hidden reality of who he really was.

Audrey realized that he was talking about some kind of run-down building where junkies and their dealers met. Probably the ones who couldn't delay it any longer used the drugs right there.

He took a deep breath and wondered why it was so easy to tell her all that. Well, she'd been with him, all along this path. She'd been there in the hours before he used for the first time. She'd been the first and only person from the good world ever that he'd let watch him shoot up.
She didn't judge him in the same way all others did. Whatever he told her, he felt like she'd still be on his side, no matter how bad it was.

He showed her the marks on his arm. "Those are from the naloxone injections they used to bring me back. They needed quite a few shots of the antidote."

Hesitatingly Audrey stretched out her hand and grabbed his tattooed forearm. Now she could see them clearly. Some of the red marks were swollen. Someone had stung into his arm quite often, probably in panic, missing his vein.

It felt so good to hold his arm. To touch his skin.

Audrey savored the few seconds until she had to let his arm go, before the situation became awkward. The warmth of his skin. The way the hair on the back of his arm felt. Some old scars beneath the tattoo, that no-one saw, but she could feel them, driving her thumb over the tattoo.
The night she had spent with him, two weeks ago, hat burnt itself into her memory. It was the last time she'd felt the touch of another human being. Skin against skin.
The intimate times with Paul were long gone. This simple moment reminded her of how much she actually missed to have someone in her life, even though eventually it shouldn't be the guy whose hand she had just held. Ridiculous. He could be dead now. She shouldn't be here. Any single one of her friends would call her insane. They'd ask her if she suddenly suffered from low self-esteem to spend her time here, in Pacoima, with a drug addict, instead of finding someone who was 'worth' her time.
She'd never tell her friends what she did today. They wouldn't understand and she'd not be able to explain it in a way they'd ever understand.

She drew her legs up and settled into a more comfortable position in her seat, sitting sideways, to look at Jack. "How did it even happen that you slipped deeper into this?"

Jack sipped at the coffee and tried to think back. Two weeks had been enough to derail completely. "I stopped functioning.", he finally remarked.

"Functioning? What do you mean with that?"

"I was… always on the job, ever since the first time I used. I had to function and I had to stay able to hide it", Jack began, "I always took just enough to keep myself from going into withdrawal and never more. I had to stay able to do my job."

Slowly she was beginning to understand. "Ever since two weeks ago there was is such limit any more.", she added.

He tiredly nodded. "Exactly. It had never been an option to shoot up until the Salazar's or CTU would notice a difference in me. That… had kept it under control somehow." He took a deep breath and settled into another position as well, now facing Audrey. "I always told myself it would get easier to get off the drug, once I wasn't on the job anymore. Then I'd finally have the time to go through withdrawal. I couldn't have done that while I was still working, they would have noticed."

Audrey listened to his words. What he said made sense. Even though it were only the excuses of an addict why he couldn't quit now. Later. Anyone of them would always postpone quitting to a later time, finding a reason why now it was impossible and later everything would be easier. He was no exception to this rule.

"What about now?", she cautiously asked, ready to hear another excuse.

Jack answered nothing. Silently he looked into her eyes.

She could have drowned in his blue eyes. They were so deep. That gaze spoke volumes, without a single word. She could almost read his thoughts: Now. Why not. Why should I? I'm not strong enough to make that decision now. I just don't want to make that decision. Give me a few more days. In a few days, the world will be different. I'll be ready then. Damnit, why am I deceiving myself? That day will never come. Tomorrow will be no different from today.

"I have a problem.", he finally said, letting out a sad laugh, "I won't run out of money before I'll destroy myself with this." The undercover job in Mexico had paid off well. He hadn't used any of his salary which CTU had transferred to a dedicated account that would automatically go to Kim, if he didn't get out of it alive.
But he did get out of it alive.
When Driscoll fired him, they had to turn all his overtime hours into cash. The lots of saved vacation days. Plus a good settlement. He didn't need to find a job anytime soon. Money was not the problem.
Or: money was a problem.

"'re you sure?", Audrey jokingly asked back, "your car didn't fit that picture."

He inevitably had to smile. "That's the car you need to drive around here if you want to park it in the backyard without having it stolen."

"I see."
It was so easy to have this conversation – no matter how delicate their topic was. Audrey remembered all the nights they'd talked over the phone, before he had gone to Mexico. And the evening after he had come back to Washington for the first time.

"What if I just took you to a rehab center? Right now." She had no idea where there even was one.

He stared into space again, thinking about an excuse why to say no.

"Are you trying to come up with a reason why you can't go?", she asked him, a few moments later.

"I am."

"Successful?"

"No."
Had he ever thought of going to a rehab center? Of course he had, weeks ago, after CTU had found out about his drug problem. Everyone had offered to find him a rehab center, even Driscoll. Even people who he barely knew. How dare they.
He had thought about it seven months ago, after he'd woken up from his first ever high.

But lately, going to a rehab center was the last thing to cross his mind. Waking up, his first thoughts were: where to get the next shot. At night, his last thought always was: should I get another one to sleep well? And in between, his mind had been occupied with finding new, reliable sources for the stuff he was using. Pacoima was a 24/7 paradise when it came to that.
There were days in which he'd not even eat, simply because he forgot to.

Audrey took out her PDA and started to search for one.

Jack silently watched her typing, scrolling, reading the reviews and repeating her search.
"You really came here without having picked one?", he asked he.

"Why?", she surprisedly said, "Should I have?"

He let out a sad laugh. "During the past weeks it seemed like everyone around me was running around with a damn pack of brochures of rehab facilities in their pockets."

"Well…", she sighed, "too bad you didn't at least keep the brochures" She kept typing, but the internet connection was slow.

She really had that rare gift to make him laugh.

Finally she found one. An expensive one, surely in a better part of the city. There was no reason why not to go there. There was no reason to ask for his approval, it would only give him a chance to say no.

Right as Audrey was about to start the engine again, he grabbed her arm.

She turned around and could see it in his eyes that he somehow was afraid of what would come next. He wasn't ready for it, but let's be honest: he would never be ready.

"Audrey", he silently began, not knowing what to say, to stop her from what she was doing.
He trusted her, fully. If there was one person on this whole planet, who he'd openly speak to, about his addiction, it was she. If there was one person he'd allow to take him to a rehab center, it was Audrey. But the prospect of going there was still unbearable.

He longed for a last shot. Even though he'd sworn not to shoot up at his own apartment, there was a small bottle hidden in the bathroom. They could get it and….

"Jack, we should get going. It won't get any better.", she silently said.

Of course she was right. He suddenly longed for a shot, more than ever.
"If I jump out at the next red light, you better run me over and drag my body there." Though he said it as a joke, Audrey immediately understand that jumping out at a red light was an actual thing he was thinking about.

"Alright…", she silently said and started to drive. Secretly, she locked the doors.

Twenty minutes later, after a drive during which they both were drowned in their own thoughts, they arrived at a beautiful building near Hollywood hills. A wide garden and park, a few tennis courts were visible. For sure, there was more fancy stuff at the other side of the house.

"Looks expensive", Jack remarked. He would have been okay with a cheaper place as well, but actually, he had the money. Like he had said before: not having enough money was not the problem. Having enough money was.

"Don't worry about the price.", Audrey answered, "I've got access to several government programs that can pay for this. Are you ready?" She unlocked the doors.

"Hell no.", he said and opened the door to get out.

They started walking towards the building. A thousand thoughts were running through his head right now: how to get out of this. Take Audrey into a sleeper hold… get her car keys. Damn it, stupid. Why was he even thinking about this? Doing this to her, after all the times she'd been there for him? Be ashamed of yourself, Bauer. Well, add it to the list.
He wondered if it was possible to get a shot around here. There must be other inmates who still had some drugs in their suitcases.
He had nothing on him but the clothes he wore. His wallet with a few hundred dollars in cash and his driver's license. He didn't own a phone. Damn it. The gun. He stopped.

Audrey had already thought he'd turn around now and run away, but he just pulled the pancake holster with his Heckler & Koch USP out of his belt and gave it to her. "I can't walk in there with a gun."

She took it, carefully, hoping that the safety was on. Even though she worked at DoD, she had no experience with guns.

Jack saw her touch it cautiously, like it was a piosonous plant. "Wait.", he said, took it back and pulled out the magazine, made sure that there was no bullet in the chamber. He could see how relieved she was after this. The things disappeared in her handbag.

They continued walking. The way felt endlessly long, from the parking lot, down the alleyway, to the front door.

Audrey felt his hesitation grow with each other step.

She dared to do something that she'd sworn herself never to do in public: she grabbed his hand.
It didn't matter now. They were in the driveway of a rehab clinic, not walking across Capitol Hill.
As if it was the most natural thing in the world, their fingers interlocked.
She felt his firm grasp.
You don't have to walk these steps alone, she thought, and tightened her grasp, too. She could feel that it was the decision that he was afraid of. He wasn't afraid of getting a few more shots, neither was he afraid of catching an overdose again. But he was afraid of deciding that his last shot had really been his last, the sudden end.

Checking someone it at an expensive rehab clinic was easy. An overly nice lady at the front desk asked nothing about rehab or his addiction. Instead, she got them a cup of coffee. Audrey could easily see through her tricks. Her task was to ease their patients into this house. This wasn't prison, where two guards with handcuffs waited at the front door. That was surely about to come, later.

She guided Audrey and Jack to a sitting area, hidden from the entrance. They were used to discretion around here.

They sat down and while she got some papers, Jack and Audrey shared a few silent glances.
He catalogued the building in his mind. Entrance door. Electronic lock, most likely locked from the inside at all times, but also possibly with an override from the fire alarm. California fire security laws surely had no exceptions for rehab facilities. Hot-wiring a car wasn't an option. The few cars outside the building looked way too expensive. They'd be equipped with an alarm and advanced electronics that wouldn't let the engine run without the encrypted key. Maybe it would be best to look for the employees' cars, for an older model. Walking was also an option. Though the building was up here in the hills, in two hours, he could reach the outskirts of the city. Catch a bus. Get back home to Pacoima. Take off the ventilation grill in the bathroom. There, the good stuff waited for him.

"What are you thinking about?", Audrey asked him. She saw the movements of his eyes.

"About how to get out of here", he decided to say the truth, still musing about the quickest way from here to a shot. Damn it, no. Audrey's worried eyes made him drop the thoughts. "Sorry. It's a habit."

She swallowed hard. She couldn't make him stay here, if he didn't want to.

The lady had left a door open through which she had disappeared.

Finally, he understood what that meant. They'd never force anyone into their program. They opened a door, and it would be his choice if he went in there or not. At the end of the grey hallway, he saw someone waiting.
His stomach cringed upon the prospect.

He turned back to Audrey. She was still sitting here, the cup of coffee in her hands, ever patient, though his last words must have shocked her. He had to walk through that door. She had done so much for him. He owed her. No, he owed everyone. Kim. Chase. Tony. Michelle. Everyone who had ever fought at his side and who had accepted his words that he'd try everything to get clean soon.
Above all, he didn't want to disappoint Audrey now. She had left her ivory tower and descended to the suburban slums of Pacoima to drag him out of his misery. He had to do this. Now.

He finished his cup of coffee and stood up.

Audrey did so, too.

Wordlessly they stood there.

She silently prayed he'd take the right decision.
As she studied his features, she felt like she could read every single one of thoughts off them. He looked away, thinking about a way out of this. His eyes found the door and all the withdrawal symptoms, the pain, the cravings and the prospect of the coming two weeks made him shudder. In the end, his eyes found hers and silently admitted that however painful it would be, he'd walk through that door, even though he was afraid of it.

"So long, Jack", she whispered.

"Take care, Audrey.", he silently answered, "thank you." He couldn't stall this any longer. Either now or never. Go, before deciding otherwise.

She desperately wanted to walk these two steps over to him, take him into her arms and hold him close, a last time, wishing him luck. She didn't dare to. It'd be like holding him back, at the 'bad' side of the door. He didn't need luck. He just needed strength, to make the right choices.

He went over to the door, took the right decision.
Electronic lock, he mused, looking at the door that he was about to pass. Probably won't open from the inside, once it's closed.
He wondered how long he'd be strong enough to keep up his decision. As he went through it, he pulled the door closed, effectively locking the way back.

The door fell into its lock.
And within that second, she had left his life again.

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Written to: RHCP – Under the bridge (the perfect song for this part of the story….)