This takes place about two years after Day 3. The story was written before season 4 of the show began airing, so it's an AU if you've seen season 4. Spoilers up to the end of season 3.

"24" is copyright Twentieth Century Fox and other copyright holders. No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.

He walks along off-white corridors, trying to ignore the antiseptic hospital smell that makes him feel uneasy. After a couple of turns, just as the nurse at the station promised him, he reaches a light blue door marked "315". He can't help it – he pauses outside the door. He really wants to turn around and get out of here – and this is him being totally honest with himself; his therapist would be so proud – instead, he closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths. Opening his eyes, he grabs the door handle firmly, turns it, pushes the door open and steps in.

There's only one bed in the room. As he knew there'd be, because security considerations mean that CTU agents tend to get private rooms in hospitals, but he can't help the slight spike of anxiousness because a part of him had wished for some… distraction. And that's not exactly the right word, but he's still allowed some comforting self-deception, so he drops the thought.

There is, however, a nurse sitting on the edge of the bed, providing at least a short-term distraction. Her body blocks his view of whatever it is she's doing, but neither she nor her patient seem to be aware of him yet. He takes the opportunity to observe without being observed, automatically recording in his mind the position of the few pieces of furniture and the one window in relation to the door before consciously focusing on details about both the white-clad nurse and the patient. The respite doesn't last long – after a few seconds, a cool gaze turns toward him.

"Hello, Chase." He tries on a small, friendly smile. It feels hopelessly frayed around the edges.

"Jack!"

The tone of voice indicates surprise. There are undertones –aren't there always undertones – but as much as he wants to, he can't quite interpret them any more than he can interpret Chase's facial expression beyond cool and controlled. He's ridiculously relieved that neither the voice nor the face carry obvious hostility.

The nurse turns to look at him. He tenses involuntarily, but the move's natural, the curiosity a reflex. She returns her attention back to her work without comment or delay. A few seconds later she straightens and looks at Chase. "There, that's done. Did you need something else?"

"No, I'm good."

"Okay." She smiles a professional smile at Chase, gets up, lifts her tray of supplies off the bedside table and heads out.

Jack holds the door open for her. She looks at him briefly as she passes, flashes a smile of thanks and is gone. He lets go of the door and walks toward the bed. There's a chair at the foot of it, but he doesn't feel like sitting down, so he just stands a few feet away, trying not to look like he's hovering. He knows he should say something – anything – but the words he'd rehearsed in the car are locked in his throat. Luckily, Chase takes pity on him.

"So, you're back in town."

"Yeah, I finished the program, got back on Sunday." As soon as he closes his mouth, he wants to smack himself. It's likely Chase doesn't give a damn, and if he does, he's probably wondering why it took his partner – well, ex-partner – two days to make it to the hospital that's only twenty minutes from his apartment.

"That's good. You back at work already?"

Still nothing but civility. "No, not yet. There's going to be a review on Thursday. If everything goes well, I hope I can get back to work on Monday."

"Right."

That's more than enough talk about him. "So, what about you? How are you doing?"

"Good, I guess." The words are accompanied by a slight shrug.

"And the foot?" Chase's lower body is covered by a standard hospital blanket, but Jack's gaze sweeps down it anyway before returning to Chase's face. He's momentarily dismayed by his lack of focus, but he can't see any change in Chase's expression, so chances are he hasn't missed anything important.

"Will heal. Eventually."

Which is not what he was asking, exactly. Still, it's best to move on. "When are you getting out of here?"

"Tomorrow, I hope. Or maybe on Thursday. Or Friday."

That's something he can definitely sympathize with. "Doctors giving you a hard time?"

"No. In fact, I think they'd be happy to get rid of me. They probably see me as a bit of a nuisance."

The brittle tone of the chuckle that ends the sentence makes him uneasy. "What's the problem then?"

It takes a while for Chase to reply – plenty of time for him to wonder what he'll do if Chase refuses to answer the question.

"I'm going to be in a wheelchair for a few weeks yet." Chase looks at him as if that's supposed to explain everything. When he sees that it doesn't, he continues. "You know my place doesn't have an elevator, and my sister just moved in with her boyfriend, so I can't stay with her. Not that I'd want to." There's a quick glance at the window before Chase continues. "Anyway, I need to go stay in a hotel until I'm back on my feet again. Chloe's arranging that for me with Division, but it's taking a while. It's hardly their top priority."

"You could come stay at my place." The words are out of his mouth just like that. He almost wants to turn around to see who spoke them. Chase seems to have an equally hard time believing his ears because there's no reaction.

"I'm on the ground floor, got an extra bedroom. It's a pretty new building, so I think the doors are even wide enough for a wheelchair. Granted, it's got no daily maid service, but maybe your sister and Chloe could come by every now and then…" He just manages to shut up before his words become babble.

"Thanks for the offer, Jack, but --"

"Division would jump at it, I'm sure. It would make things easier for them; it would be good for the budget, plus they'd be more than happy about having you keep a close eye on me in case--" Chase's face has turned into one big storm cloud he has no trouble interpreting. "Shit! That didn't come out right."

"Jack, it's only natural for you to hate my guts for ratting you out--"

"Chase, please!" He takes a step closer and looks Chase straight in the eye, willing him to believe the words. It's almost funny how much more desperate he is now that the words are true than any of the times he's lied to and misled Chase. "I want you to know that as far as I'm concerned, there are no hard feelings. You were right to turn me in; it was the only thing you could do."

He swallows a few times. Looking into Chase's eyes becomes unbearable; he stares at the grey, speckled floor in front of his shoes instead. Then he forces the words out of his mouth because Chase deserves them. Because he owes Chase. "I'm an addict; I needed help. I never would've asked for it." There's much more he should be saying, but this must be better than nothing.

As the silence continues, he looks up at Chase again. The look that meets his is penetrating, assessing. He holds the look although he really just wants to turn around and walk out. No words are spoken, but the thought "Do you really think I'm a complete idiot?" rings loudly in the room.

He turns to face the window, brushes his hand through his hair. Hates the fact that Chase must see this for exactly what it is. Still, he's not a quitter, is he? And if that isn't a big part of the problem, then…

"I know I said stuff… I don't even remember everything I said." He looks at Chase again. "That was the addict talking." Chase stares back at him, stone-faced and silent. "I see things differently now."

He can tell Chase's not buying any of this, and isn't that just the way it goes. Maybe some day soon he can appreciate the irony. He's crossed the line one time too many, and Chase has finally had enough of being let down. This time there's no excuse, no "The end justifies the means." Just a sad junkie mess.

"It's nice of you to offer, but I don't think I'd be a very good roommate right now."

The words startle him out of his thoughts, and it takes him a few seconds to get them. They are his cue for an easy way out – he's argued his case, Chase has turned him down twice – but he's committed to his plan now. Yeah, he's still not a quitter.

He doesn't need to think about what to say next; he just opens his mouth and lets the words pour out. "I don't think I'm going to be at home much in the next few weeks. If they let me get back to work, I'll have a lot to catch up on, so I think we should be able to get along." Unless you hate my guts with a fiery passion. "And if it gets too bad, you can always ask them to move you to a hotel later. This way at least you'll get out of here tomorrow for sure."

"You sure about this, Jack?"

"Yeah, yeah, absolutely. I wouldn't have suggested it if…" He gestures with his hand, feeling a bit guilty about being glad that he can still bullshit with the best of them.

"Okay, then."

He blinks a few times, makes sure his ears aren't deceiving him. "What time should I come pick you up tomorrow?"

"I'll have to check. Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Your cell phone number still the same?"

"Yeah, it is." His mouth is dry, the feeling of relief suddenly so strong it almost makes him dizzy.

"I'll give you a couple of hours of advance warning if I can. And if I can't, I can take a cab and meet you at your place."

"No, no, that's fine. If you don't mind waiting for me to get here, I can come pick you up pretty much any time. I need to run some errands, but other than that, I've got nothing on tomorrow."

"Okay, if that works for you…"

"No problem." He starts to make a mental list of things he needs to get done before collecting Chase. "Do you want me to stop by your place to pick up some clothes or something?"

"Chloe's got some stuff already packed. I'll give her a call, see if she can drop the bag off at your place, okay?"

"Yeah, that's good."

"Thanks, Jack."

"Don't mention it."

The silence that follows makes him jittery. Well, in truth it's the fact that he can't decide what to do now that makes him jittery. He's promised himself not to run from his problems anymore, but he can't see either of them being into small talk right now – hell, he's not up-to-date on the sports scores, anyway. Surely, there'll be more chances to talk than he knows what to do with while Chase's staying with him.

"I should be going… The visiting hour's over. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, tomorrow."

"Good night."

"Good night, Jack."

One last look at Chase, who looks pretty much like his usual self despite being a little too pale, and then he's walking again. Although he knows things are nowhere near right yet, his step feels lighter than it did on the way in. He's learned to be thankful for the little things.