Fall from Grace
Part 1: The Bridge

Summary: What if the car accident that prevented Jack from jumping off the bridge had never occurred?
Characters: Yup this one is going to be a Jate with some Jack and Sawyer friendship.
Rating: PG-13 for some language and violence.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything that has to do with LOST.

The muscles across his shoulders eased their grip on his back as he leaned forward, both hands clenching into tight fists as he swayed slightly, trying to keep his balance. The lights around him were blinding in their splendor, hues of neon pink and green mixing with the deafening lull of the city below. The traffic around him skated by, unyielding to his shaky footsteps, just one foot after the other at a pace that was almost painstaking.

Jack bit his lip and shifted his gaze downward toward the thundering water. The canal was almost overflowing after the bout of record breaking rainfall that had troubled the city for almost a full two weeks. He watched the swells of the current numbly, the black water thrashing like a caged lion through the low laying fog. It was enough to make him shuffle back a step and grab the railing out of instinct. As though his body had been running on just share nerve alone he pressed his entire back against the cold steel and shook a handful of tiny white pills from his pocket.

To cushion the fall, he assured himself as he flushed them back with a hurried draw from his hip-flask. The clear white spirit splashed over his chin, damping the wiry growth of hair that stretched across his face. He licked his lips to catch the last few drops on his tongue.

Somehow he thought dying would be a lot more painful than this. The thought ghosted across Jack’s mind with a sort of jerk that made his heart beat just a little bit faster. He had seen more deaths in his line of work than most people would experience in their whole lives, yet it always looked so painful, so hard-but this, this was easy.

He loosened his grip on the rail again and took another swig from his flask. His muscles felt pleasantly fluid from the alcohol as his thoughts slowed down to a laborious creep that kept him feeling almost euphoric. He was comforted by the fact that in a few short minutes he would not have to think. He would not have to drag himself out of bed in the morning to go to work; he would not have worry about the greater good.

Watery kneed he pushed himself forward before he lost his nerve, it felt so damn good to finally let go. Like the curtain dropping at the end of a play he was plunged into blissful darkness, too out of his wits to feel the initial burst of water creeping into his lungs.

It was as though he heard the air splitting splash before he saw the body fall. It happened so quickly he practically crashed his Cadillac Escalade into the shoulder of the road and dove out before the wheels even stopped spinning. The rush of adrenaline that propelled him into the canal was exhilarating and he bit back the frigid water with a powerful kick forward. His mind felt as though it had been set to overdrive, acting on instinct as opposed to rationality. He was sure he saw someone fall.

James “Sawyer” Ford closed his eyes to the sting of the spray, paddling a full circle around the deeper section of the canal. He thrashed his head violently back and forth, scanning the water; it was difficult to see with only the hazy golden afterglow of the city to go by.

“Damn it!”

He hit something hard with his foot and pitched under to latch onto it with both hands, it was definitely human and he grunted as he tugged it upward.

“Son of a *****,” he sputtered, cursing as the stagnant water lopped over his head making it hard to judge direction.

With a few fast kicks Sawyer managed to haul his load out of the canal and onto the dusty shoulder of the road where his knees buckled out from under him. His hands broke his fall, digging in hard to the gravel as the prone body tumbled supine to the ground below. He cursed again, heaving up the excess water he had taken in with several guttural coughs before turning to his companion.

“Damn.”

His first reaction was a wide eyed look of confusion that was replaced by fear with the realization that he was staring at the prone form of none other than Dr. Jack Shephard. Pale and motionless, Jack’s fiery brown eyes were glazed and half open in the hollow moonlight. The expression, plastered across his features was lopsided and mostly masked by the bushy overgrowth of his beard. His pallid torso remained unmoving to the world around him.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” Sawyer yelped, he thrust his wrist toward Jack’s neck and tilted the dark haired man’s head back. Crimson water spewed outward over his fingers as he scrambled to find a pulse without luck.

“Damn it!” He growled, fumbling and lowering his head so that his ear hovered just over Jack’s chest, hearing nothing he pealed back the layers of clothing and tried again.

“Come on now, breathe damn it!” The sandy haired man administered a determined shake and spread his fingers wide to match the wingspan of eagle crossing one hand over the other on his friend’s chest.

Jack’s muscles lurched forward under the force of the blow.

“Come on you stupid son of a *****,” he barked with another push, then another.

“2…3…4…5…" Sawyer counted off the seconds before starting the second round of compressions. He failed to notice the bluish tint forming around Jack’s lips to match his icy skin. There was no air getting into his lungs.

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Fall from Grace
Part 1: The Bridge (Continued)

“You need to breathe,” he encouraged again, this time tilting the other man’s head back and forcing a large breath of air into his thoracic cavity. He could taste the sickening mixture of vodka and whiskey on his breath but paid it no notice as the other man started to sputter. Sighing, he rolled Jack to his side and patted his back to heave up the rest of the water.

“That’s it, easy.” He watched, somewhat relieved as Jack took in a few slow, shaky breaths. He reached down to grab the older man’s wrist to find a bounding pulse.

“So the Doc finally cracked,” he said dully, somewhat wishing he hadn’t felt the urge to go banging around the clubs tonight. He ran a quivering hand through his dripping hair and bit down on his lip. Now what the hell was he supposed to do, drop him off at the hospital and pretend none of this had ever happened? That was the logical choice but was it the right one?

“You’ll probably try to impale yourself with a God damn IV pole,” he muttered, staring fixedly at Jack who had started to tremble under the cold air.

Sawyer’s expression faltered as he shook himself out of his leather jacket with a wet sucking sound. The midnight blue shirt and faded jeans clung awkwardly to him, which he ignored as he slid into the driver’s seat of his Escalade and adjusted the heat to full blast.

“Alright then Doc Kamikaze, looks like you’re crashing at my place.” Part of him winced as he said this, but a bigger part of him knew that he owed this man, sallow and trembling at his feet, far more then he could ever repay.

Jack was somewhat lucid by the time Sawyer managed to half carry, half drag him into the passenger seat. His world was starting to sharpen again, as though the curtain he was behind had lifted just enough to distinguish blurred shapes and hazy outlines. His hands clenched and unclenched in the molten light flowing in from outside but he took no notice and shifted towards whatever was enveloping him in a bath of heat.

Sawyer watched him, shifting the driver’s seat ahead and setting both arms on the steering wheel. He contemplated switching the radio on but decided against it, adapting to the occasional incoherent mutterings of his companion as he drove.

At one point during the trip Jack turned a little too green for even Sawyer’s liking; the sandy haired man scowled and put down the windows to let the air flow through. They were in the middle of a six lane highway which rendered them unable to pull over even if they wanted to. Sawyer tapped the steering wheel grimly.

“Don’t you dare go losing your lunch in my $70 000 car, Doc,” he warned.

If any of what he had said made it through to Jack’s drug muddled brain his response was in the form of a slight whimper that matched his white and clammy pallor.

Sawyer frowned, maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea after all but the hospital was in the other direction and he cared too much about his leather interior to risk turning around now.

He was surprised by how much traffic was on the roads at this time of night as it took the good portion of an hour to navigate the streets. When they finally reached his beach side flat it was well past three and the Pomeranian next door was barking at them as they rolled into the driveway.

“Ah shut up you stupid mutt,” he glowered at the dog, walking around to open the passenger side door for Jack.

“Well here we are Doc, home sweet home. Oceanic was good for something after all.” He gestured to the elegant house with its well manicured gardens and pale golden trim that arced to reach the expanse of ocean behind it.

Jack mumbled something but did not move. His head was resting against his chest and his eyes remained closed.

Sawyer stood in the driveway and crossed his arms. “Come on, Rip Van Winkle I didn’t even get to buy you dinner first.”

He snorted and slug Jack over his shoulder as if he were a sack of potatoes, weaving his way up the front step, through the house, and into the guest bedroom at the end of the hall. Grunting, he let the doctor slide onto the bed and surveyed the sight in front of him.

“Damn I wish this was a hot Latino chick instead of you Jack-Ass.”

He un-buttoned Jack’s shirt and pulled it completely off, next moving to unfasten his belt and tug at his jeans so that they were no longer around the Doctor’s hips.

“Don’t worry, you really aren’t my type,” Sawyer added, covering the doctor with a pile of old quilts that had been spread out over the bottom of the bed. He set the clothing on the bureau at the far side of the room, frowning as his eyes fixed on the half empty bottle of Oxycodone that had rolled under the chair.

He took another look at Jack and shook his head.

“What the hell happened to you Doc?”

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Fall from Grace
Part 2: Fine Lines

Jack woke with a start. He sat up in bed struggling to untangle the bedclothes from his feet; while the last fragments of the dream he had been having danced like phantoms in his mind. The images were fleeting at best, just enough to raise his heart rate and shower him in a cold sweat that left his entire body damp and trembling. He ran a shaking hand down the front of his face, tracing the ridges of his jaw line with his thumb. Thankfully, his head was pleasantly foggy enough to keep the skull-splitting ache at the back of his brain to a dull throb. Yet it was as though the entire room had been draped in a thick haze that his eyes struggled to adjust to. Everything seemed duller than he would have liked and the shadows around him held a mist like quality that pulsated into his field of vision.

So this was what being dead was like?

Sawyer grunted from his place in the chair, and peered over the dusty copy of Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian through his black-rimmed glasses. He had been watching Jack off and on for the last two hours with the same sort of lazy indifference as one observing a rather boring television show. Aside from the occasional murmuring or twitch of the limb the doctor had been relatively motionless until now; where he sat staring blankly at some undefined point on the wall.

Sawyer raised an eyebrow, shifting book in his hands to catch the dark haired man’s attention. When that didn’t work, he stood up, forcing the doctor from his daze.

“How ya’ feeling Doc?” He produced a wide mouthed grin as he teetered along the perimeter of the room.

Jack’s cloudy brown eyes fixed on him but his face remained taunt and expressionless. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, rubbing his eyes and opening them again to meet Sawyer’s own.

“Great, I’ve gone to hell,” he muttered dully.

The sandy haired male could not help but issue a rough laugh. “Not quite there Doc Kamikaze, but you were pretty close I’m sure.”

Jack humored him, wincing at the sound of his own voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sawyer hesitated, something he didn’t do very often. “It mean’s next time you decide to throw yourself off a bridge, use a parachute, and lose the beard.”

“You weren’t supposed to intervene.” Jack licked his lips numbly, his headache had started to kick in a full force; he craved something to take the edge off.

“And here I just thought you were try’n to walk on water.” Sawyer followed the Doctor’s eyes with his own, darting from one side of the room to the other and then back again to the pile of clothes tossed haphazardly to one side.

“Are these what you’re looking for Doc? Interesting choice of candy.”

He held up the pill bottle between two fingers and shook it such that the contents rattled against the inside of the plastic vessel.

“Give them back to me Sawyer,” Jack’s gruff tone made the air around the two men crackle.

Sawyer shook his head firmly. “No can do Doc, I think you’ve had enough of these for a little while.”

“Sawyer,” he warned through clenched teeth.

“Finders keepers.”

Jack grunted and pushed himself forward in a sideways lunge toward the other man but his center of balance faltered, and he hit the floor with a sharp yelp. His knees knocked against the hardwood, scratching the surface with a thud that sent the clock on the side-table flying.

Sawyer watched the black plastic shatter as it hit the wall, glancing back at Jack with a scowl.

“What the hell did ya do that for?”

He bent down, examining the Doctor, with narrowed eyes, unsure of how to approach this.

“Jack, you need help,” He sighed, the name felt awkward as it rolled of his tongue and hovered in the air for less than a moment. The dark haired man tensed emitting a sound that was almost a sob. He was pale beyond measure and his eyes glistened with a mixed emotion that lingered somewhere between hatred and confusion.

“Why?” The words were simple as they spilled from Jack’s cracked lips as he pushed himself up only to slide back against the side of the bed. He was panting hard and the familiar feeling of nausea seemed to creep up on him from the inside out. His stomach filled only with expensive liquor did a flip-flop that made him grunt and curl his hands inward as he bolted toward the bathroom tile.

Sawyer stood up quickly, holding open the door to the spacious lavatory branching off the guest bedroom with a grimace. It wasn’t long before the sounds of retching infiltrated his hearing and he stood back to give Jack whatever little bit of privacy he could.

When he finally did slip his head in he found the Doctor slumped over the toilet with his cheek resting on the seat, and his body heaving in the midst of a painful cramp.

“Christ, Doc. You really know how to over do it don’t ya?”

Jack responded with another bout of dry heaves that left him clinging to the toilet like a second skin.

Sawyer shuddered involuntarily at the sight of him, wrinkling his nose to the overpowering stench of the toilet bowl as he approached. At least he could do something about that. He reached to flush, startling Jack with the sound as his muscles tensed and he jolted his head upward.

“Just give them to me, please.”

This worried the sandy haired man more than he could ever admit. How long had Jack been like this? Had it been since they were rescued from the island or was it something new?

Sawyer sank down watching Jack with almost sympathy. He owed him; it was that plain and simple he told himself as he chewed on his lip and watched Jack’s body be overtaken by another cramp that left him wreathing over the cold tile.

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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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Fall from Grace
Part 3: Learn to Be Still

As hung-over as he was he found it difficult to fall back to sleep. His back was stiff and the redness around his eyes had not dissipated any, making him look haggard in the crest of light that was flowing in from under the door. Kate and Sawyer had long since vacated the room leaving him to stew in his thoughts that bubbled hotly in a wild race across his brain.

Jack rubbed his neck as he sat up automatically reaching for the glass on the table. The amber liquid sloshed against his lips as he slugged it back in one heaving gulp, catching every last drop with his tongue. He groaned as he turned the glass over clumsily in his hands; wanting more, needing more.

There was plenty back at his apartment.

Slowly, he twisted his legs over the edge of the bed and began a languid stagger toward the doorway. His balance was off causing him to stumble over his feet, but the muscles in his legs kept him upright while the glass tumbled out of his hand.

Kate grabbed him by the wrist before he had a chance to sink down into the shards and guided him up the hall. Somewhere in mid step he froze, giving her a calculating look.

“Jack.” For a moment she was sure she saw a flicker of something more than anger but when he turned his head it was gone, replaced by the feral glower of an intoxicated man who didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Jack, come on.” She tried again, this time positioning her hands to either side of his face, forcing him to look at her; feeling the rough beard that made her skin prickle as she explored his jaw line with her fingers. He visibly flinched under the contact.

“Why are you doing this to yourself? This isn’t you, Jack.”

He swallowed hard, feeling the heat of her hands radiate to every single part of his body as he tried to shrug away with a withered gasp.

“I have to go.” His voice had lost the unwavering certainty that Kate was used to. She dropped her hands in her lap and stared up at him.

“Do you really think running is the answer? That drinking yourself into oblivion will make things better because it won’t Jack. You know it won’t” She stated coolly.

“Than what do you want me to do? I can’t be the leader you saw on the island. I’m not that person anymore. I can’t be…”

“Perfect.” Kate finished.

“And I don’t want you to be, but you need to let us in Jack, you need to let us help you.”

“Why?” He sneered. His expression was stony as he hauled himself to his feet, continuing in a direction that was unknown to him.

“Because I happen to give a damn what happens to you.” She almost whispered. Jack turned but did not stop walking. He couldn’t stop, for that would mean that he would have to face his fears, it would mean that he would have to face her.

“Still adamant about leaving him to his own devices Freckles?” Sawyer, now fully dressed, quipped almost casually. He had his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe, watching the entire affair in utter silence.

“I thought I could get through to him,” she said quietly.

“He’s drunk.” The blonde haired man shrugged. “Right now he’s only interested in how many shots of tequila he can knock back.”

“Right Doc?” He shouted listlessly earning an incredulous look from Kate. “Isn’t that what they taught you in medical school? Do you run away from your patients too or only when it counts?”

The first punch was thrown before he could even consider dodging but he blocked it with considerable ease and sidestepped the next.

“Freckles get the door,” Sawyer grunted, forcing the intoxicated man against the wall. He felt a fist angled sharply into his stomach and bit back a wince.

The expression on Kate’s face was one of horror as she watched the struggling men: Sawyer, considerably stronger and sober and Jack, dull eyed and enraged, as they bore down on each other.

“Any time now Sweet Cheeks!”

She took a second to respond, deciding that neither man was in any state to argue with. What happened next occurred so fast that she was only half sure that it actually happened. Sawyer ducked his head and forced Jack against him in a makeshift fireman’s carry. The next moment they were all standing outside on the veranda facing the ocean.

“You don’t know anything about me,” the doctor hissed. His voice was muffled by the roar of the tide as Sawyer released him and he tumbled backward onto the sand. His hands broke the fall with a dull thud that made him whimper, trying to catch his breath.

Sawyer too was panting hard and had to shake his head to brush the rugged columns of sandy hair away from his brow. His gaze was piercing, watching the doctor, waiting for him to make the next move.

“Not bad Doc, you fight pretty darn well when you’re drunk.” He produced a wry grin, still feeling winded and oblivious to the pointed glare that Kate had fixated on the back of his neck. She looked at Jack who met her line of sight with a formidable scoff.

“Why can’t the both of you leave well enough alone?” He scowled, diverting his attention to the rise and fall of the ocean. Like molten silver it stretched into the gray expanse of sky, making it difficult to tell where the water met the clouds. Jack stared at it longingly as though no longer aware of the two sets of eyes watching his every move with a cautious intensity. He inwardly shivered, suddenly becoming aware of the heavy, salt laden breeze caressing his skin. Clad in his boxers he sat in the sand looking dazed as his eyes settled on the swelling whitecaps strike the stony cliffs of the beach below. The sun hung lethargically in the crimson afternoon sky, half blanketed by a low, sweeping layer of fog that was gradually making its way inland.

Sawyer noticed Kate slip through the sliding door of his kitchen and promptly followed suit.

“Do you have any spare blankets?” She looked up at him as he moved toward her.

“Well gee Freckles, no need to be modest.” A slow smile appeared on his face.

“It’s for Jack, Sawyer.”She said blandly.

“Just check’n, Sweetheart.” He winked and pointed toward the living room.

“There’s a spare one on the couch.”

He gave a mock whistle. “Hell, it ain’t all of us who can look that good in flannel; the Doc really has something going for him there. Don’t ya think the beard really brings out his eyes?”

She laughed a little and watched him wander down the hall, searching for something.

__________________

Fall from Grace
Part 3: Learn to Be Still (Continued)

“You really should be trying to get some rest,” Kate said in a low tone as she approached Jack with an uneasy gait. She was not entirely sure if he had heard her at all, he kept his back rigid and facing toward the thundering waves. He flinched when she crouched down to drape the blanket over his shoulders but otherwise remained unmoving.

Kate chewed on her lip, watching the set of his jaw tighten as she shifted to sit beside him on the sand. His hands were clenched making his knuckles white against the skin of his thighs.

“Jack, talk to me.” She commanded in a tense voice.

“I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

His head jerked up as if he had been scalded. He heard the pleading tone that hovered in her voice and hated it.

“Nothing.” He grunted coolly, though he looked as though he had been forced to swallow back something that he had been fighting.

“This isn’t nothing Jack,” she warned. “I want to know what happened to you out there, why you didn’t call me.”

“I did call you Kate,” he spat through clenched teeth. The bitter grimace on his face was flooded with pain, making his eyes seem darker in the dusty gloaming.

She looked stricken.

“I’m sorry...I...didn’t know.”

When she made another move to touch him he emitted an anguished cry that could neither be contained nor held back. It was primordial and erupted within him with all the ferocity of a volcano. He was only half aware of the wild tears that ebbed at the edge of his vision, making his surroundings seem hazy and difficult to place.

She had never seen him look so out of touch with reality before, but was relentless when she reached out to pull him against her chest. It was somewhat surprising that the slight struggle he did put up was weak at best.

“I’m turning into my father,” Jack laughed harshly into her neck and turned his head skyward so that the hot tears assaulting her shirt were by gravity alone. His breathing was ragged and desperate as the sobs that hitched in his throat forced their way upward.

Kate was dangerously near tears herself, but she fought back the urge to breakdown and drew him closer.

“Jack,” she stared intently at his face, rocking him slowly back and forth in a pace that was rhythmic and steady.

“Jack, I want you to do something for me, okay?”

She waited a second before encouraging him to sit up on his own, grasping his hand tight as he cast his gaze toward his feet.

Kate gave him a little squeeze, hard enough to get him to look at her, bleary-eyed.

“Come on, you just need to relax a little. Take a look at the ocean, watch the folding of the waves as they strike the rocks.” She inclined her finger to a point far off in the distance.

“You see that?’

He nodded glumly.

“Good, now I want you to count to five.”

“That’s not going to change anything.” His tone was rough yet he almost laughed.

Kate failed to see the humour in her suggestion.

“Just trust me.” She ran her thumb over his knuckles following the trail of dips and groves leading to the back of his hand.

“One.” She prompted when he made no motion to speak.

Jack sighed, “Two.”

He set his eyes on a sail boat a quarter of a mile out.

“Three.” The tiny vessel bobbed up and down over the pounding surf.

“Four.” He drew in a languid breath that tickled his lungs making his lips purse.

“Five.” Kate gave his hand a finial squeeze and smiled at the mild expression on his face. He seemed calmer than he had been in a long time.

“Better?”

Jack eyed her as though he had just been shaken out of a very long dream. One eyebrow was pivoted on an angle above the other.

“Yeah,” he admitted still crimson faced. The buzz of the alcohol had started to deteriorate again, leaving him with a dull, thudding ache that consumed the whole of his body. Aside from this, he felt strangely at peace with himself, allowing the salt sea air to ruffle the gray and white blanket that Kate moved to secure tighter around him as the fog crept in along the trees.

“Wow Freckles, are you gonna have him recite the alphabet next? What’s two plus two, Doc?” Sawyer drawled, grinning from ear to ear as he approached.

She gave him a drop dead glare that clearly warned not to screw this up. He flashed her a dimpled smile and cleared his throat.

“I hate to break up this little get together but it’s freezin’ out here so why don’t y’all head over towards the fire before you catch cold.”

It was Jack’s turn to emit a rugged snort, finally trusting his voice.

“Since when do you care?” He asked breathlessly.

Sawyer shrugged, “I don’t but Freckles here gets cranky when she’s cold.”

Kate ignored the comment.

“You built a fire?” She asked sceptically.

The sandy haired man grinned, “I’ve had lots of practice Sweetheart.”

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Fall from Grace
Part 4: The Con Man

The sky had turned a watery shade of purple as they made their way down the beach with Sawyer at the head of the small group. He kept his eyes fixed on the horizon, occasionally glancing backward at Jack and Kate who were teetering at a slow pace behind him. The sand was damp and clung to his jeans as he plodded farther away from them, eyeing the small fire at his feet with the slightest hint of pride. The mango coloured flames danced along the gravel, reflected by an up thrust column of basalt that stood rigidly behind him.

“Sawyer, what did you do?” Kate looked around with a mild curiosity, directing her gaze toward two lopsided tents that were dangerously veering to the left. At once she understood and a small smile splayed across her lips. She’d have to thank him later.

The blonde haired man shrugged. “All those damn Baywatch reruns have been getting to me, pull up a chair Doc, maybe Freckles can give us a bit of a show.”

“Not happening.” She glanced at the doctor who hung back a few feet looking dazed. The crease in his brow was tight and he slumped slightly forward causing the tattoo on his shoulder to glow under the flames.

“Jack, sit down before you fall down.” It was an order not a suggestion that he hesitantly obeyed, not knowing what else to do with himself. Kate gave him an approving nod but her face faltered when he refused to meet their eyes.

“Jack...”

She was cut off by Sawyer who spoke in a tone that was almost hesitant but still held that familiar air of sarcasm.

“So spill Doctor Feel Good, what’s eat’n ya?”

Jack didn’t answer right away but pretended to be more interested in a small conch shell that glittered in the sand next to his big toe. For the first time that afternoon he realized he was barefoot and shifted his ankle slightly, allowing his heel to drag.

“Nothing.” He made a small circle with his foot, not bothering to look up.

“Jack.” Kate reached for his forearm but he snatched it from her grasp before she had a chance to close her fingers around him. Slowly, he pulled himself backward into a standing position and retreated toward the ocean.

“I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this.” He looked into Kate’s eyes for a second but it was clear he wasn’t going to say anymore before turning his back on the pair.

Kate gave Sawyer a glance that told him all he needed to know, earning a sour grimace in response.

“Oh hell no Freckles, can’t we just drop him off on Dr. Phil’s doorstep and be done with it?”

“Sawyer, please. I can’t get him to talk to me.”

He shot her a sarcastic look. “And you think I can do any better? Hate to break it to ya Sweetheart but I ain’t Oprah.”

She shrugged, jabbing at the fire with a piece of drift wood. “Maybe you can try the whole male bonding thing?”

The expression on his face was incredulous. “With Jacko? Well damn just a second there Freckles, let me go get my fishing rod then afterwards we can come back here and roast marshmallows.”

“You’re a con man,” she said simply, enunciating each word very clearly as she issued a fleeting look down the beach.

He glanced at her, opened his mouth, paused, checked his pocket for something, and stood up wordlessly.

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Fall from Grace
Part 4:The Con Man (Continued)

The closing darkness did not help any to lighten Jack’s mood. He had tried to run, to belt it as fast as he could down the beach, but his body refused to obey his brain’s commands resulting in a lopsided jog that wore him out more than exhilarating him. Exhausted, he let himself drop allowing his fingers to sift through the sand. Maybe if he sat there long enough the tide would carry his body out to sea.

Some part of him knew it was just wishful thinking and swept a hand across his face to deaden the tears. He almost drove a tooth through his lip when he heard heavy footsteps yielding behind him.

“Well howdy Doc Flintstone.” Sawyer watched the man in front of him visibly tense and he rolled his eyes.

“Go away Sawyer,” he mustered in the sharpest voice he could. His head was pounding and he grit his teeth to try and deflect the pain.

The sandy haired man chuckled. “I dunno if that’s wise Doc considering I might just have something you want.”

Jack blinked, Sawyer was holding, no dangling the bottle of oxycodone in front of his face, yanking it back when he made a move to grab it.

He flashed a smile and popped the cap when the dark haired man scowled, tossing one white tablet up in the air and catching it in his mouth.

“Not bad.” He indicated to the bottle.

“How long do they take to work?”

“Just give them to me Sawyer.” Jack sounded dead at best. His voice was flat and laced with a dry indifference that made the air around him quiver. He was in pain.

“Well, I’ll tell ya what Doc.” Sawyer leaned against a near by rock and positioned his body such that he was facing the doctor.

“I’ll give ya one if ya talk.” He folded his arms, waiting.

“Talk?” Jack toyed with the word as it rolled off his tongue, momentarily confused.

Sawyer cocked an eyebrow. “You know, it’s when you move yer mouth and words come out.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he grumbled. “I know what you’re doing, get the poor pathetic doctor to talk about his feelings and then maybe he won’t jump off another bridge.” The clarity in his voice was unsettling enough to put even Sawyer on edge.

The con man shrugged, “Whatever floats yer boat.”

He reached to shake out another tablet and placed it so that it was at eye level with Jack.

The doctor sighed and tossed it to the back of his throat as if by reflex.

“I wanted to go back.” He pulled his knees closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“Every Friday night I, I fly from LA to Tokyo or, Singapore, Sydney. And then I, I get off and I, have a drink, and then I fly home. I want to crash. I don't care about anybody else on board. Every little bump we hit or turbulence, I mean I actually close my eyes and I pray that I can get back but it never happens. I can’t do this anymore.” It was no longer just his voice that was shaking.

Sawyer looked the older man dead in the eye as he opened his mouth to speak. “You’re not a cowered Doc, even if you are trying to take the easy way out.”

“The easy way?” Jack scoffed.

“There’s nothing easy about my life, I’m not the saint you think I am.”

“Funny, I thought that’s what the beard was for.”

Sawyer’s comment was enough to draw Jack to his feet, his face contorted in anger.

“You know what James, have a nice life,” he spat but then paused, faltering on his words and looking around as if puzzled. The world around him was pulsating with splashes of color at varying intensities, they seemed to entrap him. He could almost feel himself falling backwards, like his mind was floating and an overwhelming sense of relaxation washed over his body, every muscle going limp.

He was only vaguely aware that he had fallen and was being eased to the ground by Sawyer who’s expression was grim.

A low rumble echoed from the sandy haired man’s throat followed by a sound that Jack only heard whispered far off in the distance, like he was in a wind tunnel.

“You should have listened Doc,” Sawyer muttered, leaning over to spit out the white tablet that he had been storing in his cheek. He crushed it in the sand with the heel of his shoe and turned back to the unconscious doctor.

Jack moved slightly, opening his eyes to see Kate’s blue ones staring back at him. He grunted and looked up at her feeling groggy and very disoriented. She had a guilty expression plastered all over her features.

“What happened?” He asked gruffly, noting that he had been dressed in a white t-shirt and faded pair of denims. He could not place the area around him but did not feel ready to sit up quite yet.

“Sawyer drugged you.” She half chuckled.

“He switched the oxycodone for sleeping pills and slipped you one about three hours ago.”

“So that’s why I feel like a truck ran over me,” Jack grunted, rubbing his neck.

Kate looked at him quizzically. “I thought you looked a little better. The dark circles under your eyes aren’t as deep and you seem a little more rested.”

“The most sleep I had since last time you drugged me,” he complained.

Kate held up her hands, “I, honest to God had nothing to do with this one. It was all Sawyer.”

He shook his head and looked around, taking in the blue-green hues of the room they were in. His brow furrowed

“Where exactly are we anyway?” He asked

“The tent,” Kate sighed, “Sawyer refused to carry you ‘all the way back to the house’.”

Deciding to take advantage of the situation she handed him a water bottle and placed two small tablets in the palm of his hand. He glanced at her, barely stifling a yawn.

“These will knock you out till morning,” She offered.

Jack turned the pills over with his thumb and frowned. “Do you really think I’m worth it?” He sighed.

Kate’s expression faltered, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

She reached to uncap the bottle for him and pressed it to his lips. Without protest he placed the tablets on his tongue and gulped the water greedily.

“So what happens then?” Jack asked after a long moment. He didn’t expect to see her at his side, smiling.

“Then…” She paused. “Then we’ll get you the help that you need. I promise Jack, I will help you through this.”

He wanted to respond, to shake his head and tell her that she would be attempting the impossible but the pills were kicking in faster than he would have liked and his mind swam because of it. Kate noticed this and crossed her legs, settling back to find the book that she had been reading.

It was easy to tell Jack needed the company.

When his balance faltered she tugged him backward by the shoulders and did her best to get him to relax. It wasn’t long before his eyes started to droop. He was struggling, trying to fight the warm sleepy feeling that was washing over him like the dark water lapping at the sand outside. His vision was fading fast making him blink rapidly as his surroundings distorted.

“Jack, stop fighting. You’re safe now… it’s okay.”

Kate peered down at him. It tore her apart to see him so tormented. She told herself that the man she had watched in pure anguish for the past few hours wasn’t him. That he wasn’t her Jack.

“Kate?” He mumbled, reaching out blindly to grab something he couldn’t quite see.

“Yeah?”

“Stay.”

He barely managed to get the word out as his eyes dipped shut and his hand dropped onto his leg. She covered it with her own, drawing in breath with a sad smile. The rise and fall of his chest was deep and even as he began to snore softly.

Author’s Note: Okay, would have loved to add a little more to that but I have an essay that I have to write which will be easy…once I decide on a topic lol. Hope you enjoyed this installment and thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I am honored that you are giving me such great feedback as it really encourages me to write more.

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Great Work, you put a lot of effort into this.

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