Hence the Heroin

Summary: Jack sits with Charlie during a sleepless night. The drugs that had been burnt still haunt him.

Author: CharliesHoodie (Hannah B.) RiviyanQuesta –at- AOL –dot- COM.

Rating: PG-13 for drug reference.

Setting: Takes place between The Moth and Confidence Man.

Characters: Jack and Charlie.

Slash: NO

His hands were quivering. It wasn't minor anymore! Why couldn't anyone see what was wrong with him? Locke knew. Jack knew. But did they really know how serious this was?

"He's got the flu," Jack had said. Charlie had smiled at him, thankful that Jack didn't run around telling the whole freakin' camp that he had a drug addiction. The sad thing was, that that was what Jack let himself believe. Oh, Charlie just has the flu…hence the trembling and sweating and left over particles of heroin in the toe of his shoe…

Yes, there had been some of it left. But he wasted no time in getting rid of it. How easy it had been, throwing the baggie into the flames and then discovering a few particles left in his checkered Chuck Taylor. Out it went! Easy as it had gotten there. He had been drunk when he received the drugs, woke up the next morning, found them in the palm of his hand and just like that…boom! An addiction. An accidental addiction.

Everyone was asleep. Everyone except him. He was sitting in the place he had sat when Jack told Hurley he had the flu, the teacup on its side near his ankle.

He couldn't sleep. Anyone who thought he could was a fool. A complete fool. So he sat there alone. No one would give up they're time to be with him. Everyone seemed to be almost self centered here…or maybe that was just him.

"I'm a bloody Rock God!"

"You're probably asking if that case is mine because I play bass for DriveSHAFT. You know…You All Everybody?"

"I had tribal flues come in for a recording once…for a band."

"I was waiting for you to bring that up! Yes, yes, I am the bassist in DriveSHAFT…"

He wanted to slap himself! No wonder no one wanted to come near him. Smile and nod, smile and nod, that's all you got to do they had probably been telling themselves.

As he began to zone out, he found himself doing the old habit. He was licking his fingers. He stopped with his pointer and middle finger crammed through his lips. He slowly pulled them out; as if he did it too fast he'd startle someone.

Suddenly, a blinding light flashed in his eyes and he shielded his face.

"Charlie?" a soft voice called out. The bearer of the flashlight lowered it. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"You know why, Jack."

He heard a sigh and a rustle as Jack took a seat next to him. The doctor put the flashlight on 'dim' and placed it on the ground between them so the beam shone up at their faces. Charlie glanced over at Jack.

"You know why."

"I do," Jack admitted dryly. "It's just…"

"Something you don't want to face?" Charlie snapped. "You're the doctor. Everyone expects you to fix everything." He paused. "I don't."

"It's not that!" Jack cried in a whisper. "I don't care what people expect me to do. I'll do what I expect myself to do. The thing is, I've dealt with stuff like this before…"

Charlie laughed bitterly. "So, you're an ex-druggie too?"

"No," Jack shot back quickly. He continued on softly. "I've had someone…someone very close to me die from influence." He didn't go into details.

"Oh," Charlie said apologetically. "Sorry…"

Jack shrugged it off. "It's fine, and I don't care if you don't expect me to 'fix everything', Charlie, but I'm going to do what I can to get you through this."

"Thank you," Charlie whispered.

Jack smiled.

Charlie was about to say something more when his stomach began to hurt. It wasn't the stomach ache-y type of hurt; it was the full-fledged 'I'm-going-to-throw-up-in-two-seconds' kind of hurt.

He lurched forward, holding his stomach as well as his breath. Jack's hand squeezed his shoulder and the other rubbed his back. He talked to him softly.

"Go ahead, Charlie. This all helps in getting it out of your system."

So he went ahead and did so. After ten painful minutes or practically coughing up his insides, he was looking down at his dinner, chunks of boar and fruit soggy from his stomach fluids. Just by looking at it, he felt like throwing up again. But there was nothing else. Lunch and breakfast had been long gone already.

He trembled violently and Jack embraced him in a friendly hug.

Maybe everything wasn't going to be perfect, but the outcome of his battle against the horrible addiction would be.

A/N: Like? Oh, I just love writing little things like this!

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Oh! You can e-mail me at RiviyanQuesta -funny 'at' sign- AOL –dot- com. Since fanfiction dot net doesn't let you put links, I couldn't do so, but e-mail me there, please! Or Instant Message me. I love one-on-ones! And cool people like you who read my stuff are always a pleasure! My top reviewer/fan person by the looks is Tristic…she's COOL!