Lost fic: The Fix (sequel to Pain Management)

[eponine119]

Disclaimer: Lost belongs to ABC, etc., not to me. No infringement intended by this usage.
Archive: Please ask first.
Summary: Now Jack has to get Sawyer off heroin. Sequel to "Pain Management."
Warnings: Spoilers through the end of season one. Strong language, drug use.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who liked the original story and encouraged me to write a sequel, especially halfdutch, who offered up help and ideas. Hopefully this won't disappoint.

The Fix
by eponine119
August 13, 2005

"You have to do something," Kate said urgently to Jack.

"I know." His voice was tight with irritation. There was a headache building behind his eyes. He'd let this go on too long already.

"If you don't do something, I will," Kate informed him.

"Like what?" Jack snapped. "Take him out in the jungle and tie him to a tree and leave him there for a week till he's clean? What are you gonna do, Kate? How are you going to take care of a sick, angry man who's taller than you and bigger than you and stronger than you? Tell me, I want to know."

She pressed her lips together and gave him that look. The one with the narrowed eyes that said Fuck you, Jack even if Kate was too polite to say it out loud. "Charlie would help me. He's been there."

Jack laughed hollowly. "Charlie got lucky, Kate." He suspected Charlie knew how lucky he'd been. Kate had no idea.

"You did this, Jack," Kate said. "You have to fix it."

Jack gave her a long, hard look. "I know," he said, and it was enough to make her go away. For now.

…

Sawyer appeared in the entrance to Jack's cave and Jack glanced at his watch. He was coming to see Jack more and more frequently, as his tolerance for the drug decreased and his need for it grew. Jack could feel Kate's accusing words in the pit of his stomach. He had to do something. He knew this.

Sawyer sat down in the exam chair without saying anything, and looked up at Jack. They'd gotten into a routine, and Jack realized now that made it easier for him to pretend this was all perfectly normal. Now it was as though he was seeing it all clearly for the first time.

The man sitting in front of him didn't seem anything like Sawyer. This man was quiet and docile. He moved almost in slow motion, and when even when he blinked he didn't quite seem like he was seeing anything. This man was a drug addict, and Jack had made him what he was.

There were other physical changes, too. Sawyer hadn't regained the weight he lost in his ordeal at sea. His wrists were as delicate as a child's, one hand scratching absently at a patch of dry skin on the back of his other arm. His hair was like straw. One nostril was faintly crusted with blood and Sawyer kept sniffling softly, like he didn't realize he was doing it.

Jack pushed aside Sawyer's scratching fingernails and took his pulse, which was light and slow and weak. He could hardly stand to look at him, knowing all this had been accomplished in such a short amount of time. He pulled back one side of Sawyer's unbuttoned shirt to check the progress of the nasty wound in his shoulder and was surprised to see how well it had progressed. He still thought of it was the wreckage it had been when Sawyer first reappeared. Now it was almost healed.

Jack poked it and pressed it. "Does that hurt?" he asked several times, and Sawyer murmured no. Jack raked his teeth over his lip. What was he supposed to say? Come back when it does hurt? That wasn't why Sawyer came here, not anymore.

He stood there for a long time, with Sawyer's arm in his hands. Not moving it or testing it. Just trying to work up the strength to do what he knew he had to do. Not just for Sawyer's sake, but for himself. To get rid of this guilt over what he'd done. To get Kate and the rest of them off his back.

"Jack," Sawyer said questioningly.

Jack felt what little inner resolve he'd manage to build up collapse again. He wasn't ready. Sawyer wasn't ready. He hated himself as he took the carefully measured dosage out of his pocket -- Sawyer's visits were like clockwork, after all, and Jack had anticipated him. He forced himself to watch the ease with which Sawyer sniffed it, the brown powder disappearing up his nose. At least Jack had stopped the injections and the instant, strong high they produced, but that had been done for practical reasons. Their one syringe was getting dull, and they might need it for something more important later, so Jack had to save it.

Sawyer wiped his nose with the back of his hand and started to get up, to amble back to the cave where he was living. He'd given up the beach; it was too far away. It would be several minutes before he was completely lost to it again, content to lie in his cave alone for hours, until the cycle inevitably started up again and he came back to Jack for more. But this was going to be the last time, Jack decided. He shouldn't have given it to him this time.

"Why don't you stay here," Jack suggested. "I want to keep an eye on you."

"Okay, doc," Sawyer mumbled. He changed his direction and sprawled out on Jack's bed with a heavy sigh.

Jack followed him, sitting down beside him. "How do you feel?" he asked. A question he'd asked thousands of times as a doctor, but never quite like this.

"A hell of a lot better than I did," Sawyer replied. A tiny flash of the Sawyer that Jack remembered. He was still in there somewhere. But the hit was already starting to take hold. Sawyer's eyelids grew heavy, though his eyes didn't close. There was something almost sexual to the way Sawyer held Jack's gaze and ran his tongue over his lips. "It feels good, Jack," he said. Sawyer's dry hand closed over Jack's, threading his fingers through like he needed something to hold onto, pushing their palms together. "Maybe you oughta give it a try. Come and lay down next to me."

Jack's tongue pushed at his teeth. Trying to say no, but it never made it past his lips. There was a part of him that wanted to. The part of him that watched his father drink for all those years and then picked up the bottle himself. Watching Sawyer all this time made Jack jealous. Sawyer didn't have a care in the fucking world, and even that was Jack's problem.

Sawyer gave a throaty sigh and Jack flinched. But he didn't move away. He let Sawyer keep hold of his hand and watched what he had wrought. The way Sawyer's pale face turned faintly pink as his eyes almost rolled back. Sawyer squeezed his hand as the waves of pleasure washed over him. And then Jack watched as he faded into something almost like sleep, with his chest barely rising and falling. He didn't look like a living man, and Jack realized Sawyer hadn't been living at all. When you were alive you felt things, even pain. Being alive meant thoughts and interactions and personality, not hours spent drifting on a tide of heroin.

He'd given Sawyer the drug because he thought Sawyer would die without it. Now he found out he'd killed him with it, just in an entirely different way.

…

It started wearing off in about three hours these days, but Jack pulled his hand away long before that. He couldn't stand to sit there, knowing he'd done this to Sawyer. After about an hour, Jack got up and walked out of the cave. Sawyer didn't notice. Jack filled his water bottle and walked down to the beach. He used to come down here every day, but now he couldn't remember how long it had been.

People used to look at him and smile. They'd come over to talk to him. Now they looked at him and looked away. He felt like he'd lost their respect. He wanted to scream at them, remind them that he'd saved Sawyer's life, but he wasn't sure that was true. Maybe he'd just done what was easiest at the time. He'd been self-serving. Even now, having to dope Sawyer every few hours was easier than dealing with his fighting and cursing and stealing.

Jack sat in what used to be his favorite spot on the beach, a little way away from the camp. He watched the tide roll in and out. He was going to cut Sawyer off. No more drugs. That was what these people wanted him to do, and Jack knew it was the right thing to do. In retrospect he probably should have done it right away, once Sawyer was through the worst of it, when the syringe started getting dull. His stomach clenched as he remembered that instead he'd shown Sawyer how to snort the powder and wait for the high.

Jack sat on the beach for hours, until the air turned cool and his back was stiff from sitting. But he didn't know how long it had been until he saw Sawyer approaching him and habitually looked at his watch. Six hours had gone by instead of the now-usual three. Jack got to his feet just as Sawyer reached him.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" Sawyer bellowed, his fist connecting hard with Jack's jaw.

Jack's eyes went wide with surprise and the sudden pain of being punched in the face. He saw now up close what the twilight had hidden on Sawyer's approach, his red-rimmed swollen eyes and his blotchy face. And Jack caught just a glimpse of Kate in the distance as Sawyer punched him again. "I want an answer, jackass," Sawyer said, but Jack could hear the wail and the tears in his voice.

First Jack had to protect himself. He grabbed Sawyer's wrists, one in each hand. Sawyer tried to fight him and then to get away, but Jack was stronger. Only then did he reply. "What did Kate tell you?" Jack asked in a low voice.

"She said you fucking drugged me." Sawyer's voice was just as low. The sob was gone now, and the words were pure, dark threat. He struggled again and Jack shook him until he stopped.

"Did she tell you why?" Jack held Sawyer's gaze, like staring down a wild dog to try to keep it from attacking. His heart was in his throat and the side of his face throbbed where Sawyer hit him. His lip was split and he could taste blood when he spoke. But Sawyer's bony wrists felt like glass in his hands, like all he had to do was squeeze and he could shatter them.

"I want you to tell me why," Sawyer said, his eyes blazing with darkness and fury.

What could he say that would possibly justify any of it? Jack shifted his focus past Sawyer's face. Kate was watching them, her teeth working on the side of her thumb, long hair blowing in the breeze. She just couldn't leave well enough alone. "You were hurt," Jack said. An introduction. But he didn't get any farther.

"You did this because you wanted to," Sawyer raged. "Because you think you're the king of this island, you prick. And because you hated me and you fucking could. You saw your chance and you took it."

"I know you're angry," Jack said and there was another struggle for control. It wasn't quite possible to hit someone who was holding your arms in front of you, but Sawyer tried.

Jack felt Sawyer's shoulder wrench. Sawyer turned his head and gasped and swore, trying to jerk his shoulder back into place. Jack instinctively let go and drew back, but not fast enough. Sawyer head-butted him, hard enough for Jack's vision to fade around the edges. Another wallop and Jack's knees hit the sand. "I'm going to kill you," Sawyer promised, pounding on Jack with his fist and his feet.

…

Jack came back to consciousness with his head spinning. He was on his back on the beach and it was still twilight, so he hadn't blacked out for long. It took him two tries to sit up, and even then he let out a long, painful groan and dug his hand into his side. Cracked ribs. Jack guessed two. Maybe just bruised. It hurt to breathe but he could breathe so he'd be okay.

Kate was staring at him, her eyes wide and scared. Jack felt a surge of pain when he looked at her. "You just couldn't leave it alone," he said.

"I told you to stop drugging him and you gave him more." Her voice was tight and her words were clipped. Jack knew Kate well enough to know this was how she got when she was really angry.

"I was buying time while I decided how to handle it," Jack said, touching his head. There was a sore spot where Sawyer's head had cracked against his, but no bump. "One more dose wasn't going to hurt him." He blinked and looked at her. "You satisfied?"

"He's in bad shape, Jack."

Jack nodded. "You get his shoulder popped back in?"

She shook her head. "He ran off."

Jack's whole body went tense. "Where?" If Sawyer went into the jungle, on his own, with a dislocated shoulder and in the early stages of withdrawal…well, the late stages of withdrawal probably wouldn't be a problem.

"The caves," Kate said. "Sayid took off after him, and I stayed here with you."

Jack sighed and flinched at the pain in his ribs. "Finally you did something smart."

Kate blinked as though he'd struck her. "Sawyer wouldn't hurt me, Jack," she said scathingly. "I'm not the one who did this to him. I'm the one who told him the truth."

"Telling him the truth didn't hurt him, Kate?" Jack demanded. He'd seen Sawyer's reddened eyes. Maybe she'd held him while he cried, but she wasn't the one who was going to get Sawyer through this, any more than she'd been the one faced with the agony from trying to save him in the first place. She'd incited Sawyer to violence, into coming out here and beating him up, and Jack just had to wonder if she'd intended for that to be the outcome. He knew she was angry with him.

She gave him that fuck you look again and he expected her to stomp away. But she held out her hand to help him up. Jack took it because he wasn't sure he could get to his feet on his own. Once he was standing he was okay -- breathing hard but okay -- and he walked away from her.

Sawyer was in Jack's cave. Sayid stood right outside, and he exchanged a wild look with Jack. But he didn't say anything. Jack could hear things hitting the stone walls and the ground, and he could hear Sawyer's agitated whimpers. He stepped inside, feeling Sayid's eyes heavy on his back.

The emotional trauma of however Kate had broken the news combined with overtaxed nerve endings had unleashed the animal in Sawyer. He clawed through Jack's belongings awkwardly with his right hand. His left arm hung awkwardly from his dislocated shoulder and it had to hurt like hell. The medical cart had been upended and half destroyed. He was looking for drugs, Jack realized. Jack rubbed the sore spot on his forehead and tried to figure out how to handle this.

"Sawyer," he said softly. Gently, as though speaking to a child. The other man's skin shone with sweat from the effort this was costing him and his eyes were fever-bright, but they were focused. "Your shoulder's dislocated from the fight. I need to…you'll feel a lot better if you let me fix it."

Sawyer stopped, his chest heaving, and looked at Jack. Jack felt adrenaline pour through him, just waiting for the attack. "You're the one who did it," he said, his voice raw.

"I know," Jack said. "And I'm sorry." His voice almost broke on sorry. He was tired and he hurt and he had so much work to do here.

"You can't fix what you done to me," Sawyer said.

"Maybe not," Jack admitted. "But I can try."

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Sawyer said again. It seemed more like he was reminding himself than threatening Jack.

"I know," Jack said again. "Later, okay?"

Sawyer dropped his head down between his shoulders in defeat. Two jerks, like a nod. And then Jack dared to approach him. He braced one hand against Sawyer's collarbone and took his hand in the other. He pulled and pushed without any warning and felt the joint slip back into place. Sawyer fell against him and Jack was startled, but then he recognized the sobs for what they were and felt the other man's tears soaking into his neck. Jack couldn't do anything but hold him, swaying slightly like he would if he was holding a child that needed soothing.

"I was looking for it," Sawyer mumbled into Jack's skin.

"I know, I know," Jack said softly.

"I need it. Everything hurts so bad. You don't know how bad it hurts."

"It's going to get better," Jack promised. "I'll take care of you. I'll fix this."

Finally Sawyer sniffled and picked up his head. His eyes were bloodshot and his nose was red. Sawyer pulled away from Jack, wiping his face off on his shirt. He scraped his eyes again with the back of his hand for good measure and said, "I never fucking cry." Jack nodded. "I was in a plane crash and I didn't fucking cry," Sawyer said, and Jack nodded again. Sawyer sniffled and wiped his nose. "This didn't fucking happen."

"Okay," Jack said agreeably.

"Your eye's black," Sawyer said.

"I think you cracked two of my ribs, too," Jack told him.

"I did?" Sawyer's smile was peculiar, proud and trembling at the same time. His lips were still white and swollen from crying and Jack knew they'd taste of salt from his tears.

"Hurts like a motherfucker," Jack added, just to impress Sawyer. It worked.

"You deserved it," Sawyer told him, and Jack nodded. He did. He deserved worse than a beating. He deserved to have somebody pump him full of drugs against his will and then take them away, but living with what he'd done to Sawyer would have to be punishment enough. "I was pretty bad off," Sawyer said, clearing debris from the first class seat Jack used for examining people, and he sat down.

"I've never seen anyone in that much pain," Jack admitted honestly. "I had to do something. I thought I was saving you."

Sawyer's eyes flickered closed, then fixed on him again, darker than before. "Should've let me die."

Jack didn't know what to say to that. It hurt and his eyes pricked with tears.

"Where'd this shit come from?" Sawyer asked.

"Drug smugglers' plane. Must have crashed before we did. Somebody found it in the jungle. They won't tell you where it is," Jack cautioned.

"This the same shit Driveshaft was on?" Sawyer asked.

"Yeah," Jack said hesitantly. That wasn't really his secret to tell. But Sawyer reverting to his nickname habit was almost reassuring.

Sawyer pulled in a deep breath that ended in a yawn. "What'm I in for, doc?" he asked, and the hoarse, scared note was back in his voice.

Jack sighed and looked at him, trying to decide what to say. He couldn't lie, because he seemed to have regained Sawyer's trust and he was going to need that to get through the next few days. "It won't be easy," Jack said, sliding comfortably into doctor mode. "The drug represses the manufacture of certain substances in the brain. Until that production gets going again, you're going to feel pretty lousy. Nausea, chills, body aches, that sort of thing. It'll last about a week, but the first few days are the worst."

Sawyer nodded, and Jack started to see that Sawyer was already experiencing some of these symptoms. His skin was broken out in goosebumps and he was swallowing hard, like he was trying to keep his stomach down. Jack felt a surge of panic and also something else, at the realization that Sawyer didn't want him to see it. He was almost tempted to ignore it like Sawyer was doing; let them reach a silent, manly agreement to maintain Sawyer's wounded pride. But he couldn't. "Do you want to lie down?" Jack asked. Sawyer shook his head and let a shiver run through him.

"Keep talking," Sawyer said, after a long pause.

Jack's mind instantly went blank, of course. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, as he started to clean up the mess Sawyer had made. He'd done a good job; Jack was going to have to pick up every single thing he owned. He glanced back and saw Sawyer shivering. "You cold?"

"Little bit," Sawyer admitted.

"Here," Jack said, going to him. He knelt down in front of him, picking up one of his hands and rubbing it between his own.

"I might throw up on you," Sawyer warned.

"Part of being a doctor," Jack said. "Besides, you haven't eaten anything in days."

Sawyer shook his head and groaned. "Kate," he said, meaning she'd insisted on feeding him while she was telling him what Jack had done to him. Sawyer turned away from Jack and threw up. Jack stayed with him until he was done, the sickness leaving Sawyer panting and pale.

"I'm going to get you some water," Jack told him and Sawyer turned his head in Jack's direction, but kept his eyes closed. To his surprise, Sayid was right outside the entrance to his cave with two full bottles of water, which he put into Jack's hands. Sayid's eyes were dark and compassionate when they met Jack's, and Jack got the idea Sayid had some experience with this himself. "Where's Kate?" Jack asked.

Sayid shook his head. "Don't worry about her now," he said.

Jack nodded, but he was angry. A part of him wanted to grab Kate and shove her into his cave, to make her deal with what she'd caused. But Jack knew that anger was misplaced. This was Jack's fault. "Thanks," he said, taking the water from Sayid and going back to deal with Sawyer.

Sawyer was on his knees with a rag, trying to clean up. Jack went to him, placing his hand on Sawyer's back to stop him and pull him up. But then Sawyer started throwing up again, his entire body wracked with the violence of it. Jack kept his hand on Sawyer's back, trying to comfort him as much as he could. "I hate that," Sawyer murmured weakly when he sat back, finished for the time being.

Jack swept Sawyer's hair back from where it was plastered against his face with sweat. He poured a little water into a plastic cup and put it into Sawyer's hand with the admonition, "Small sips." Sawyer closed his eyes as he drank in little jerks while Jack wet another rag and wiped him down with it, then cleaned up the puke as best he could.

"You're good at this," Sawyer said, as Jack removed the empty cup from his hand and put him into bed.

"Don't say anything you'll regret in the morning," Jack cautioned him. Sawyer chuckled, curling up on his side. Jack draped his blanket over Sawyer's shoulders and rubbed his arms through the rough fabric. He felt Sawyer's tense body relax, although he was still shivering lightly. Jack wondered if this would be the worst of it. He knew that withdrawal peaked between 24 and 72 hours, and it had only been six or seven. If this was the worst of it, they'd both be lucky. "Still cold?" Jack asked.

"Polar. And everything hurts," Sawyer replied, and Jack slid down to lie next to him. It felt good to lie down, easing the aches from their fight. "Don't do anything you'll regret," Sawyer murmured, even as he snuggled closer to Jack's warm body.

"If I had a thermal blanket and a heat lamp I'd use them instead," Jack promised.

"You're like the surface of the sun," Sawyer sighed. "Some girl said that to me once. You know how chicks are always cold? Now I know how they feel." He moved and connected with Jack's ribs and Jack winced. "I'm glad I hit you."

"Me too," Jack admitted. Physical pain gave him something to hold onto. It didn't avenge what he'd done, but it was something.

"You ever get high, Jack?" Sawyer asked.

"Drunk," Jack admitted. "Not high."

"Goody two-shoes control freak jackass," Sawyer said good-naturedly, then said, "Me either."

"What was it like?" Jack asked.

"It was really fucking nice," Sawyer said. "Hated it. You'd hate it too."

"Mmm," Jack agreed. "Tell me more." His eyelids were getting heavy, and he told himself that was why he'd lain down next to Sawyer. Not just to warm him up, but so he could sleep without guilt. If Sawyer needed something, he'd be right there, awake in an instant. It was going to be a long, hard night.

Sawyer started to describe it to him, using big fancy words and high-flying metaphors Jack had never expected to hear in that smooth country accent. He realized talking was keeping Sawyer's mind off his discomfort, and anxiety fueled the longest speech he'd ever heard from him, the words tumbling out faster than his drawl could cope with them.

It wasn't going to be okay. Jack knew that. By morning Sawyer would be on edge and irritable, and he'd probably hit Jack again and anything else that got in his path. Sawyer would always have this in his past, another thing he'd had to live through.

But he hadn't wanted to be addicted, hadn't sought it out himself, professed no love for it. In a way that made it worse, because he never would have experienced any of it if it wasn't for Jack, and Jack would have to live with that. In a way it made it easier though, because he wasn't going to be out combing the jungle looking for that plane. He wouldn't hike out there to tempt himself the way Jack knew Charlie secretly did.

Jack still thought Sawyer might have given up that night when he'd been in so much pain. He remembered Kate imploring him to do something about it and telling him he'd done the right thing after he gave Sawyer the heroin for the very first time. He even thought maybe she'd done the right thing this afternoon. If Jack had just taken the drugs away with no discussion, he might have given up, but anger drove Sawyer and Kate knew that. Knew how to use it.

Sawyer wouldn't lose this battle, though. Jack might have made a mistake, but he could fix this. That was all he cared about.

End.