Fall from Grace
Part 2: Fine Lines (Continued)

That was how Kate found them, grim-faced she glanced at Sawyer who wordlessly followed her out of the room.

“Took your sweet time, Freckles,” he quipped by way of a greeting.

She frowned and brushed a messy tuft of tawny hair out of her hazel eyes. “Sawyer, you left a message on my machine at 3AM saying ‘the Doc went kamikaze’ and to get my ‘fine ass’ over here. What did you expect me to think?”

“Then next time I’ll say please,” he snorted.

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Have you been drinking and who’s in your bathroom?”

Sawyer huffed and shook his head. “Dr. Do Right had a little too much to drink and decided to throw himself off a bridge.”

He motioned toward the bathroom, “I found him in the canal.”

“Sawyer, if you’re trying to find away into my pants you’re going to have to do a lot better than that,” she scoffed.

The blonde haired man held her gaze until her expression changed. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

Kate’s eyebrows knitted together when he nodded and motioned toward the bathroom with a terse look. The door was half closed with only the cool light from the bedroom spilling in.

“He’s been pop’n these.”

He tossed the orange bottle toward her and she caught it on reflex, as she examined it her features faltered and she bit back a gasp, gripping his arm unconsciously.

“He’s in there then?” she confirmed.

He nodded again and headed toward the hallway, his toenails clicking on the hardwood. She watched him leave the room without word and turned to the bathroom. The door creaked jolting the room’s soul occupant out of his half daze. White-knuckled he flexed his hands from around the toilet rim and lowered his gaze to the tile.

“Sawyer, please just go away.” He grunted, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left from his adversary.

“I’m not Sawyer, Jack.” Kate whispered as she knelt down beside him feeling increasingly uneasy of his condition. He looked like death warmed over and she had never seen him so God damn broken. It unsettled her to see the selfless leader who brought them all back alive stripped down to nothing more than just the shell of a man.

What the hell had happened to him?

She gritted her teeth and placed a gentle hand over his shoulder. The bare skin resting against her palm was sticky with sweat and she could feel him trembling beneath her. Instinctively she knew that he wanted her to withdraw and just let him be, but she denied him of this and raised her other hand; clamping down to knead the tension out of his shoulders.

When he released a ragged moan and tried to pull away she strengthened her motions, tracing her hands down the curve of his sallow back. It was enough to get him to close his blood shot eyes until the next cramp kicked in at full force and he was heaving and gasping over the toilet.

Jack needed water. Kate remembered when Sawyer had gotten shot that they had to keep him from getting dehydrated and stood to fish a glass out of the medicine cabinet that she half filled from the tap.

Kneeling down again, she did her best to encourage Jack to face her and pressed the glass to his lips. Warily, he spat the first sip out and spread the moisture around his dry mouth with his tongue. Yet he was overwhelmingly thirsty, and attempted a few staggered gulps on his own, draining the glass in a matter of moments.

“Thanks,” he whispered, a little calmer than before. Though it didn’t last long, for by the time Kate replaced the glass she could hear the water spewing out of his mouth faster than he had taken it in.

“It’s okay, we’ll try again in a little while.” She responded to his fleeting look with the knowledge that they would have to get some fluids into him at some point.

Jack was clearly exhausted and had begun to doze with his head resting at the foot of the toilet. The cramps that were assaulting him became more sporadic and tolerable if he kept his body still and curled in a tight ball.

“Freckles, this isn’t God damn Brokeback Mountain!” Sawyer’s voice boomed, startling him from his place on the floor.

He didn’t see the glare she gave the man standing in front of him but felt a strong set of arms hoist him upward and over to the tub. He groaned in protest but did not fight as he was gently moved under the spray of the shower. Rigidly he stood letting the cascade of water splash all over his body, clinging to Sawyer’s arm for dear life. The sandy haired man hoped that he would be able to leave it at that but Jack’s stability was lousy at best so he sighed and abandoned all hopes of remaining dry as he stepped under the spray.

The entire ordeal was one that Sawyer was glad Jack wouldn’t remember later. He held the doctor upright and let the lukewarm water flood over their bodies making his clothes cling to his skin for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Slowly, the shivering racketing the older man gave way to small shudders as his body slowly warmed and all the grime was washed away under the force of the torrent.

Once he was satisfied that Jack was as clean as he was going to get Sawyer turned the faucet off and let Kate take over in wrapping him in a thick towel.

“Do you always take your clothes off after you shower?” She chuckled, watching him struggle to free his arms from the gray-green pull over.

“Only for you, Freckles.” He winked and wrapped a towel around his waist.

Jack was having trouble standing on his own but between the two of them they managed to dry him off and walk him into the bedroom where they shoved the covers aside. He was slightly more sober now and scowled at the pair in front of him.

“You gonna tell me a bedtime story now?” He snorted, feeling the edge return to his voice.

“Jack,” Kate gave him an odd look but he ignored it.

“You shouldn’t be here Kate.” He narrowed his eyes, fixing them on the quilt draped over his legs.

“Just let me finish this in peace,” he added grumpily, turning away from the pair so that the covers were half covering his head.

They exchanged a look that Jack could not see and when Kate left the room he said absolutely nothing.

Sawyer watched her out of the corner of eye as he adjusted his towel and rummaged in the closet for something dry to put on. When she returned her expression was indifferent and she was carrying a large glass of what smelled of strong whiskey.

Sawyer cocked an eyebrow as she set it on the table next to Jack, who pretended not to be watching her.

“Er…Freckles, probably not the best idea,” he warned but she ignored him.

“Now,” she cleared her throat and moved so that Jack couldn’t help but meet her gaze.

“You have twenty-four hours.” She pointed to her watch, striding over to the massive bay window where hues of blue and crimson filtered in from the ocean below. Opening it slightly to filter the stagnate air out of the room she drew the blinds, making it as dark as possible.

Jack blinked, taking a long breath of fresh air. “Twenty four hours for what?” He slurred, his voice was harsh and sharper than it had ever been.

Kate shrugged, replying in an equally firm tone. “To mope around. Come tomorrow morning the pity party is over. Until then, feel free to get drunk and feel sorry for yourself all you want.”

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