Title: Lost In Darkness, Chapter II
Author: callisto24
Fandom: 24 / Renegades
Genre: drama, m/m slash
Theme: After Season6, Jack Bauer meets Hank Storm.
Characters: Jack, Hank, Chase...
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Unbetaed, not my native language, drug abuse, violence, Season6 spoilers...
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, no money made.

 
Thank you very much to njpax who helped me learning about history and situation of Native Americans, especially about the Lakota People in the Pine Ridge Reservation, and patiently answers my stupid questions. *hugs*
 
* * * * *
 
Apologies for mistakes and errors, all mine, and for the possibility that I won’t go on with it and leave them here alone, without Chase.
 
Takes places after Season6
 
* * * * *
 
South Dakota
 
Pine Ridge
 
* * * * *
 

 
Blue eyes scrutinized him, watched his movements, each simple gesture, taking it in like a wonder. Jack wasn’t completely awoken. He sat at the wooden table, his hands clutched around a hot cup of steaming coffee. No herbs, no bitter teas, the delicious smell of coffee had been the first thing coming to his senses, when his deep sleep had ended abruptly. And he enjoyed the scent more than he had ever done, more than he enjoyed the taste. The smooth surface of the glistening liquid repeated the colour of Hank’s hair, which moved with the man’s motions.
 

 
Hank felt guilty. From the sight of Jack he couldn’t tell if the man remembered last night, couldn’t tell what he was thinking of him. Absent-mindly he filled the leaves and grass, he had collected and dried, carefully into the different, prepared bottles.
 
* * *
 
Another fault he had made this morning, coming back into Buster’s room, looking for Jack.
With the memory of the past hours in his mind he had tried to pull up the blanket, which had removed during the blond’s sleep, in order to cover the exposed skin again. And while doing so he had touched the shoulder, hadn’t been able to resist renewing their connection.
 
But this time Jack had reacted differently.
The formerly relaxed small shape had winced and then come up with a strangled cry.
Hank had stepped back at once, only to watch Jack hurrying backwards as far as possible, as fast as he could.
 
Eyes wide in fear, mouth still trembling, he stilled, when the wall had finally, violently stopped him.
 
Breathing heavily the smaller man had looked at him, obviously in the process of convincing himself, that Hank hadn’t meant any danger to him.
 
And the Lakota had wondered again which fate laid behind the smaller man, driving him to the most extreme reactions.
 
* * * * *

 
Now he watched him through the steam rising from his cup of coffee and Hank squirmed under the glance. Hank couldn’t remember why he had searched for the beans, why he had felt the urge to provide him with a breakfast which wasn’t only unusual, but probably not the best drink for Jack in his actual state.
 
But the content expression in Jack’s face told him that he had made the right choice.
 
The sunlight streamed through the open curtains, which were driven apart by the fresh breeze, deepened the shadows beneath the fair haired’s eyes.
 
Hank sat down at the opposite of Jack, after he had poured himself an own cup of the reviving fluid.
 
They sat in silence, taking small sips from time to time.
 
Hank noticed with relief and with delight a hint of colour returning into Jack’s face.
 
“Better now?”, he asked him with a little smile on his lips.
 
“Yes, thanks”, Jack answered, another flush flying over his features.
 
“I still have to...”
 
“No.” Hank shook his head, the full, long hair moving with it.
“It’s alright. There is a reason for you to be here, and very soon the spirits will tell us about it.”
 
“But you don’t have to...”
 
“No.” Hank spoke more firmly now. “For us to meet, to stay together like this, had been decided long ago. We have no say in it.”
 
He reached out with one hand, touched Jack’s fingers, which were just sinking down on the table surface. Hank hadn’t intended to do so, new arising fear of another scared rejection made him lean backwards quickly. But before he could move his hand away, Jack’s fingers closed around it, hold it in a tight and steady grip. Hank’s eyes shot up, met Jack’s deep blue gaze, lost track in its intensity.

 
“I know”, Jack whispered hoarsely, falling into the bottomless depth of the black shining pools hypnotizing his body and his thoughts. And again, he wondered if the mysterious Lakota was able to read in his mind, to complete his sentences because he heard them, before they were ever spoken.
 
His hand began to shiver, and reluctantly he let go of Hank’s strong fingers, felt their warmth still after they were gone, when they just lay heavily on the rough wood sharing them.
 
* * * * *
 

 
Chase sensed his eyelids becoming heavier with each mile he put between himself and the grey, dusty city, he had hated without being aware of.
 
The car already moved for hours, but the road in front of him wasn’t ending, seemed to keep him on an endless journey through nothingness.
 
He was more than tired.
Quitting his job, his apartment, the life he had lived for the past years, in order to face an unknown future, had taken away the strength, he had desperately tried to keep up for longer than he had ever thought to be possible. But there had been no choice for him, the myth of free will once again had proved to be nothing but an empty word.
 
What he had been really astonished about was the sudden, unexpected freedom running through his veins in the moment, he had been able to leave the struggles, the doubts and the fears of his past behind, in order to search for what he had wished to search in secrecy for a very long time, but never had admitted to himself.
 
He clung to the steering wheel, his knuckles became white by the force he used to keep his consciousness, to stay awake on this unexpected, hasted trip which might lead to nothing more but deception.
 
He nearly felt relieved, now, when the decision had been made, when he had been ready to look forward to a kind of conclusion, to an end of the questions and doubts which were whirling through his mind in neverending circles since... since he had seen him for the last time.
 
What would Jack think of him, in case he really would find him, in case the informations he had waited for too long and he had payed for with nearly everything he had owned, would prove to be right?
 
Maybe he would blame him for leaving Kim. Chase’s biggest worry for the past years, since he knew that Jack had been alive, since all the pain and mourning they had gone through had turned out to have been in vain. If Jack ever had imagined how much strength his feigned death had cost the people who loved him, had cost his daughter, had cost Chase himself, who had discovered one day, one morning far away, when his life had seemed to be the life of another person, that he hadn’t been able to bear it any longer,
that he hadn’t been able to support Kim, to be her anchor and her haven,
to be the one she could lean on, she could throw her desperation and her insecurities at.
 
He had tried, he had done his best to be there for her and for their little one, but this had been the morning when he had broken down.
 
Angela had been just recovering from an infection accompanied by fever cramps, causing him to stay next to her bed for night and days until he had lost track of time. Kim had been captured in her own world then, trying to find to herself or whatever her therapist had recommended to her these days, what she ought keep looking for. The therapist who obviously never had known what it meant to take care of a child for 24 hours a day, when your world was breaking down, who had never stopped telling Chase about the care, love and understanding a hurt soul like Kim’s would need, who had never stopped to blame him for his reticence, for his reservation, never had stopped to compare him to Jack, until Chase had stood up and left the practice, had left Kim, had gone to the next bar and drunk himself into consciouslessness until he had been dragged out of the establishment by the called police and luckily had been recognized by a former collegue who had brought him home and kept the accident locked.
 
But waking up without knowing what had happened, without knowing who was taking care of Angela when he had failed to be a father, had shown him that he wasn’t able to live the lie any longer.
 
He had broken each connection to his former life, tried to get rid of the memories, of all of them desperately and had failed.
 
Chase’s sister had been glad to take the little girl with her, to provide her with a family, while Kim after the premier shock and tears had been surprisingly quiet, watched him pack his things and go, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to change his mind.
 
The images filled his thoughts, pictures of his failures, overshadowed by the grief caused by Jack’s death which followed him everywhere, a fact he couldn’t overcome for he couldnt accept its truth.
 
And then the rumours had reached him, strange stories which weren’t making sense, about Jack’s survival and abduction. He had tried to find out about it, but the files had been closed to the public and he wasn’t more than any other civilian these days, an Ex-Agent who had skipped his duty in order to lick his wounds, who prefered a cozy family life, instead following the call of his country.
 
And the waiting had started, the countless, fruitless tries to learn the truth, the endless nights filled with the horrors his imagination brought to life, until he gave up and drank himself into stupor regularly.
 
Chase shook his head, tried to get rid of the memories, to concentrate on the future.
 
Would he find him?
Would Jack hate him, blame him.
It had been to long. He might have forgotten, what they had meant to each other, what they had shared assuming of course that he had ever cared. He might be another person, just like himself, another man, leading another life.
But Chase had to know, he had to take the chance to bring clarity into his world, into his life, and maybe in their both’s.
 
Chase felt the change in temperature. It became colder, the wind more fresh, the smell of the arriving autumn days filling the air, gaining intensity the more he moved northwards.
 
His paths had never crossed these parts of the country, though he had moved a lot.
 
The now clear sky formed a blue dome above him, seeming to welcome him, to show its joy about his long desired arrival, about the return of a missed soul. The wind blew through his hair, caressed his cheeks, told him of a new gained freedom.
 
Chase closed his eyes. The road led him straight forward, his the only vehicle around. He felt the pull of South Dakota tearing at him, guiding him on his way, imagined the never seen landscape, touched the proud pines reaching out for him.
 
An eagle uttered his shrill cry from above, the sound penetrating his ears, waking him up in shock. He just managed to direct the car back onto the street which it had threatened to leave while he had involuntarily dozed off. His heart beat quickened, the sudden event made him use the breaks and stop aside. He searched the sky for the bird of prey but couldn’t discover it there against the blinding sun. Maybe it had been part of his dream, maybe a proof of his overactive imagination, or maybe a warning, a hint for him to turn round and forget what he was after. Chase shook his head.
His heart still pumped wildly in his chest. Trying to convince himself that he would be more careful for the next hours, he started the car again.
 
* * * * *
 
Hank opened his eyes.
His bronze fingers still created a rhythm, worked alone the drum he held between his knees. He sweat from the effort, the bare chest was heaving and sinking, the mouth still forming the ancient, holy words he was chanting without being aware of. The smoke rose thickly from the hot stones, formed faces and shapes which were changing and fading without keeping their figures, without transmitting the clear message he was searching for.
 
And once again he condemned the early death of his father, the knowledge he had owned and which was lost forever, which he wasn’t able to earn no matter what he tried, no matter whom he asked. He had known about people from the first sight, had been able to judge them without a doubt. He had known about Buster before Hank had known, had seen the purity and the ability to love without holding back in him, had seen the perfection in which he made his son complete, as well as Hank completed Buster. And still after his death, he had visited Hank in his dreams for months to lead him, to guide him, to help him through the new arising difficulties and tasks, Hank had been confronted with.
 
He had accompanied Hank through the lonely nights, through the doubts and fears, through the strange feelings of longing aching in him, which he had been unable to place during the first time. His father had convinced him finally, had taught him and supported him until he had been ready to see the truth, until he had been ready to welcome Buster with open arms, when he had arrived at last, to love him and make him stay just like his ancestors had done for centuries when they had found the one soul corresponding to their own.
 
But his father wasn’t with him any longer. Hanks grief, his desperation had cut most of the fragile strings between his world and the other one and he was trying now to catch a glimpse, to achieve a small realization of the meaning Jack’s presence contained for him and for his life.
 
It remained difficult, became even difficulter now, when he tried to force the powers to return to him. Sometimes he got entrance into Jack’s dreams, sometimes a vision of his probable past flashed through his mind, both scaring him as much as hurting him inside. The one thing returning to him, again and again, was the image of Jack gliding over the ground, sticking to the earth, but raising his head towards the sky, looking for an escape from the ropes binding them down, for redemption from his guilt.
 
Hank felt lonely, helpless and restless in his urge to do something, but in his inability to make sense of the pictures. An earth’s person searching for release, bound tight, pressed down by the sins of his life, unable to accept help, unable to forgive himself or even to look for forgiveness, a Wasichu captured in the Wasichu’s limited world, unaware of the miracles around him. Hank didn’t felt ready to deal with it, to understand or to solve his problems which seemed to become heavier and more frustrating with each angle of vision revealing to him, a task too big for him alone.
 
But nevertheless there had been a change, an unexpected turn arrived at the horizon, carrying new troubles and danger with it, but also a slight piece of hope.
 
Hanks heart raced in his chest and he felt another one racing too.
 
Another person belonging to the air had heard him, had noticed the warning he had sent while his wings had carried him forward, fast, invisible, searching for a sign, for a reason, for help.
 
* * * * *
 
Jack’s eyes flew open.
Again he woke up from a deep and dreamless sleep, an experience, he couldn’t remember having gone through since his childhood days.
 
The permanent need to stay alert, to be ready to react in less than a second, had turned into an unquestionable part of his nature.
 
Maybe the simple demand of his body to rest completely, if only for a little while, belonged to the bunch of reasons, which had driven him into heroin abuse years ago. To gain peace, to remain free of the painful thoughts, had been worth it to be confused and unprepared in the moment Ramon had shaken him violently into consciousness, amused about his dependance and helplessness,
angry because of the easy surrender,
the increasing lack of energy.
 

 
Jack moaned and stretched out carefully but not carefully enough, because a sudden cramp made him turn aside and curl together. He lay still, tried to breathe quietly until the turmoil inside of him calmed down, gave his aching guts a rest.
 
Twilight allowed him to notice the soft contures surrounding him, the dusky atmosphere changing it into a foreign, misty cabin, filled with ghosts swirling from one corner into another, flying over his head, touching him with their spiderweb fingers while passing by.
 
He couldn’t believe that he had fallen asleep again, couldn’t remember how he had made it to this room and into this bed. He seemed to have spend the wohle day in here, maybe more, and still felt exhausted.
 
Remembering the circumstances of his last withdrawal, he groaned.
It wasn’t over yet, and he obviously had no chance to get the chemical and medical support he had been provided with in L.A. .
 
Instead there was Hank and his strange medicine, and Jack wasn’t sure if he was ready to trust his ways, mainly because he knew that he wasn’t ready to trust himself in the conviction to fight the drug. In fact, he saw no reason to stop using, no reason why he might have considered quitting as a possibility.
 
His stomach ached and he pressed his hands against it, not willing to give in to the pain, not willing to throw up again. After a while his guts started to behave and he tried to get up slowly, taking care of the dizziness starting to overwhelm him.
 
Sitting on the edge of the bed he waited, holding his head between his knees until the room stopped moving arond him.
 
Silence overwhelmed him as soon as the roaring in his head had faded away, left him alone in a void environment, unable to decide what his next steps should be.
 
Running away, using the moment to go and search for the next fix?
Why delaying the inevitable?
He knew that the real hunger would start when the pain was over, and there was no reason for him to suffer from it again.
 
He rubbed his forehead, thought of the last moments his mind had been clear, or at least when he had thought it was, felt Hanks eyes on him, in him, smooth blackness, liquid coffee, dark pools, offering calmness, peace, containing a promise, he couldn’t understand yet, he couldn’t see behind.
 
Jack shook his head and stood up.
This was a dead end, comparable to the dozens of times, he had believed that he might be able to find something different, something, some place to start again, to begin a life free from his past. It had proved to be a mistake each time, had opened up a new hell for him and for everybody involved. He won’t let it happen again.

 
Carefully he took a few steps forwards, reached out for the wall, supported himself with one arm. His gaze fell on a photo he had seen before without noticing, a blond man, strangely familiar, laughing brightly, while a younger Hank had grabbed him around his waist.
 
Jack stared into the dark-haired features, which looked earnest and quiet like he remembered them, but different in a way he couldn’t describe. Maybe it was the slight twinkle in the corners of his eyes, the possible attempt to suppress his amusement, or the lack of the sorrow, which ruled the Lakota’s face, as Jack remembered it.
 
Something made him feel like he shouldn’t look deeper into the life of these strangers, especially for he wasn’t intending to abuse his generosity any longer.
 
With a sigh he pushed the door open with his free hand and listened into the building.
No sound reached his ears, obviously Hank had left him for doing whatever a man like him had to do. Feeling relieved and strangely frustrated at the same time, Jack moved forward, ignoring the sharp pain cutting into his heart. It would be better for everybody if he left as soon as possible.
What reason ever had caused the Lakota’s behaviour, he had known that he couldn’t expect anything by a stranger, who had never asked him for his help.
 
Though Jack tried to convince himself on each step down the old and worn down stairway and further through the darkness of the house, he still felt guilty and bad about his decision.
 
He opened the door to the outside, listening into the silence, almost wondering about the lack of sounds out there.
 
A cold wind ran over him, caused him to shudder, made him wish to turn back, to hide inside, to take the chance offered to him. But he resisted, knowing what would come next.
 
It wouldn’t last long and he would search the home of Hank without a second thought, without being able to resist the temptation. He would search each corner, each cupboard for relief, clutching to the hope he already carried with him, the picture in his mind of Hank hiding the drug somewhere secretly.
 
He had been there and never intended to go back to this place again. His path of self-destruction should remain his own, never carrying someone down with him.
 
Carefully he closed the door behind, wrapped his arms around him, fighting the coldness running through his blood.
 
Still it was silent, a weird silence considering the surroundings. He meant to hear horses in the distance, but the arriving night prevented him from seeing clearly.
 
No lights around, the poverty of this part of the world forbade the senseless use of electricity. But still the power of the dying sun enlightened the distant horizon, allowed Jack to find his way on strangely shaking legs. He couldn’t tell what it was, but something pulled him down. It seemed like his body fought his mind, a feeling stronger than his exhaustion, forced him to become slower and slower, to bind him to this earth. He tried to breathe but something hurt his lungs with each attempt, allowed him small and quick intakes of air alone. At the same time he started to feel light-headed, his mind near to leave the heaviness of his body. He fought it, not wanting to lose consciousness above all, tried to sharpen his senses, to look for a possibility to ease up his forecoming.
 
Rhythmical sounds filled his senses at once, chants and drums from far away, another world approaching the one he was captured in. The lost moments between day and night gave room to pictures from a distance, from the past. Pictures he couldn’t make sense of.
 
Jack sank to his knees, submitted to the voices calling him, the ghost dancers imploring him, talking to him in a language he couldn’t understand. He looked up, not existing anymore in the world he had lived in before, suddenly somewhere else, in an endless plain covered by an endless silver sky. An eagle cried above him and he fixed his eyes on the majestic vision, the strong bird of prey high above him, circling him again and again without getting tired. And he moved with the animal, raised a long and thin shape into the air, trying to get higher and higher, to join the circle, but still bound to the earth, gliding forwards and backwards, eyes following the eagles calling, body imitating the movements, mirroring them on the ground, answering the creatures screams with a hissing tongue. He slid over the ground, faster and faster, no obstacle preventing the snake from its ride. The dark wings whooshed through the air, the cries became louder, more painful, searching.
 
And a second creature watched them both from a distance, high above him, deep beyond the proud eagle, a fissured rock the position from which it stared a them, judging, probing, controlling the mysterious dance.
 
Someone pulled him back, out of a dimension which made no sense to Jack.
 
His view darkened, he lost the touch to the solid ground.
 
Arms rose him higher and higher into the reality of the night, and he felt his back pressed against a solid chest, his feet finding their place to stand again on the re-appearing reservation’s earth.
 
* * * * *
 

 
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