This ended up being waaay longer than I thought it would, but since it flows nicely as is, I decided not to split it up. The title is an intentional Buffy reference. ;)

AMENDS

A-mend [uh-mend]

To change for the better; improve: to amend one's ways.

"Jack?" Kate's heels clacked against the tiles as she passed through the kitchen, the sound echoing inside the deserted apartment. "Jack, are you home?"

When he failed to answer his door, she'd let herself in with the key he'd given her back when they were still dating, before he moved in with her and Aaron.

Turning the corner into the living room, she almost tripped on a crumpled beer can that had been discarded next to the couch. Beside it, a pizza box lay open, the remains of a crust attracting a steady trail of ants. She wrinkled her nose in disgust as she picked her way through the detritus – everything from soiled plates to take out menus to old maps –, relieved when it began to thin out near the door and she could walk freely.

There was no sign of him in the bathroom either, so she continued down the hall to his room, scowling when she spotted a man-sized lump under the covers. Crossing to his bedside, she switched on the lamp and ripped them off in one fluid motion, exposing his prostrate form.

He groaned at the sudden loss of warmth and darkness, cracking one eye open to peer at his assailant. "Kate?" he croaked out, frowning at her as if he were having trouble distinguishing her from whatever hallucinations he'd been having before she arrived. "What're you doing here?"

"I got a call from the hospital saying you were sick," she explained. She was getting ready to go out at the time, on what might be her first real date in more than six years, but she'd agreed to drop in on him despite her reservations.

She lifted the comforter and shook it out, searching for evidence. "What is it this time? Pills? Booze?" She crouched down to check the space under his bed; there weren't any bottles that she could see but that didn't mean he wasn't on something.

"Neither," he insisted, slightly miffed at the accusation.

According to the woman she'd spoken to on the phone, he was showing signs of extreme agitation, his behaviour bordering on aggressive at times. "You expect me to believe that you have the flu?" she asked, her hands flying to her hips. She'd suffered too much over the past few months to be convinced of his innocence.

Her annoyance turned to fear when, instead of offering her an excuse, he let out a strangled moan. "Jack? What's happening?" she asked, kneeling beside him, feeling helpless as she watched him dig his fingers into the mattress, writhing in invisible agony. "What's wrong?"

She flinched as he cried out again, the sheer anguish of it reminding her of the night Juliet had taken out his appendix, only at least then she'd understood what was causing his pain.

"It's nothing – just a headache," he assured her through gritted teeth. "Go home."

As the ragged sound of his breathing filled the room, she could almost feel the ache in her own chest. "This is not just a headache, Jack. You need to see a doctor," she insisted, gripping his shoulders, fighting to get him out of bed. "C'mon, I'll drive you."

But it was clear that he didn't want to move, pitting his superior weight against hers. "I can handle this, Kate. I know what I'm doing."

"Wait," she said, dropping his arm as the truth of what he'd been trying to tell her finally hit her. "You're trying to detox yourself? That's your plan – you're just gonna go cold turkey? Even if it kills you?"

There was a part of her that wanted to kill him herself. When she laid her palm over his forehead, she was dismayed at how hot it felt. His body temperature must have risen to at least a hundred degrees. "You're burning up," she told him. She had to get the fever under control.

She went into the bathroom, ransacking the medicine cabinet until she found what she was looking for.

"Take these," she instructed, setting a glass of water on the nightstand.

His expression was wary as he studied the pills in her hand. "What is it?"

"Aspirin. It'll bring down your fever."

As soon as he heard this he shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not gonna trade one drug for another. If I wanna get clean, I've gotta stop…" He squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his face as his body was wracked by another painful spasm, and she let out an exasperated sigh. How was she supposed to help him if he wouldn't even help himself?

"Well I can't just leave you like this," she told him. If something went wrong, and anything happened to him, she would never forgive herself.

Besides, it was Christmas Eve: a time to set aside grudges. What was it that they were always preaching in Sunday school? Peace on Earth and goodwill to all men?

After weighing her options, and deciding that she had no choice, she headed back into the living room where she'd left her purse. Taking out her cell, she dialled David's number, cursing under her breath when she all she got was his voicemail.

"Hi, this is David. I can't answer my phone right now but if you leave me a message I'll call you right back…"

"David, it's Kate," she said once the recording had finished playing. "I'm really sorry but something's come up and I'm not gonna be able to make it tonight…"

She went on to explain that it was a family emergency, and after wishing him a Merry Christmas, hung up feeling guilty. He was a nice guy, undeserving of being stood up at Christmastime. It wasn't really a lie though, was it? In a way, Jack was family.

When she returned to the bedroom, he'd succeeded in propping himself up so that he was half sitting against the headboard. "I haven't seen that dress before," he said, taking in her appearance, his face the most animated it had been since her arrival. "Is it new?"

All of a sudden, she was painfully aware of how tight it was; how well it hugged each of her curves. She'd bought it especially for the occasion, in a bid to pull herself out of the rut she'd found herself in since the break up, but now she was questioning whether it sent the right message.

"Yeah," she agreed, her mind flashing back to David, who was probably at the party by now, wondering why she wasn't.

"I like it," he told her, his smile almost shy as he added, "That colour looks good on you." It wasn't the first time he'd expressed his approval at seeing her in red. Maybe, subconsciously, that was what had attracted her to it.

She wasn't supposed to care what he thought anymore, but there was still a part of her that couldn't help feeling pleased at the compliment. She'd spent so much of their early relationship covered in mud that she still enjoyed showing him there was more to her than a tree climbing tomboy. "Thanks."

She didn't know what to say; he was the first one to break the companionable silence that settled over them. "Is Aaron here?" he asked, glancing behind her at the doorway as he were expecting him to come barrelling in.

"No. I asked Veronica to work tonight," she explained, allowing him to draw whatever conclusion about this that he wanted.
"That's probably for the best," he agreed, "I don't want him to see me like this," and she had to fight the urge to remind him that he'd already seen a lot worse. It was in the past now. Bringing it up again now wouldn't change it.

"So who was on the phone?" he asked, just a little too casually, taking her by surprise. He was so out of it that she was sure he hadn't noticed when she stepped outside to make the call. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but it's obvious you didn't get all dressed up and hire a babysitter just so you could come over here."

His jealousy was so palpable that she could feel herself growing defensive. Should she even tell him? It wasn't like she had anything to be ashamed of. She wasn't the one who'd chosen to end things. "You're right. I had a date," she confessed, frowning at the way he puffed up slightly at her use of the past tense, as if he knew he was the reason she'd changed her mind.

"Who's the lucky guy?"

"His name is David," she told him. "He's an economics teacher at the high school. Aaron plays with his son Connor at the park."

"I guess you two have a lot in common then."

She couldn't tell if he meant it to be sarcastic or not, but given how threatened he seemed, she decided that it was unlikely he was being sincere. "As a matter of fact, we do," she retorted.

"So then why're you here?"

It wasn't until he said it that she realised the whole time they'd been talking about David, he was setting her up, backing her into the corner that she now found herself in. He wanted her to admit that she still loved him, and when she considered the evidence, she couldn't blame him. The fact that she'd chosen to stay with him was pretty telling.

But she wasn't prepared to let him win, not when he was the one who'd broken her heart, so she settled for the simplest – and least truthful – answer. "Because someone has to be."

A heavy silence fell over the room, the weight of the past between them. "I'm sorry I ruined your Christmas, Kate," he said finally. "You can add it to the list."

For a moment, all she could do was stare at him while she waited for this to sink in. "You honestly think I'm keeping score? Like this is all some kind of competition?" she asked, hot tears burning her eyes as she rushed on, "Is that why you left? To get back at me for all the times I hurt you?" He was a lot of things, but vindictive was never one of them… at least where she was concerned.

"I left because I wasn't safe to be around," he corrected her. "Isn't that what you said?"

He was twisting her words, turning it back on her when she'd never intended for him to disappear from their lives the way he had. All she wanted was for him to get himself together. "That's a cop out, Jack, and you know it. The only person you're a danger to is yourself."

She could see that she'd angered him when he turned away from her, pulling the comforter back up to cover himself. "Thanks for stopping by, Kate, but I'd like to go to sleep now. Could you turn off the lights on your way out?"

He was acting like such a big baby that she wanted to slap him. There was no way she was going to let him get away with it. "Oh, no. No, no," she complained with a disbelieving laugh. Was he really suggesting that she go home and sulk, alone, on Christmas Eve? "I already cancelled my date for you. Veronica's been paid up until midnight." She shoved a pile of dirty laundry to the floor and sat down on the chair with her arms folded. "No, I'm just gonna sit here and watch you suffer for a while. I think I've earned that right."

"I don't blame you for hating me," he told her after a long beat. "I hate me."

It should have been satisfying, but she'd never been very good at dealing with his pain, physical or otherwise. "I don't hate you, Jack," she confessed softly. "I don't even know if I could." And she'd tried. Hard. It would make moving on from him so much easier.

She could hear her mother's words resounding inside her mind, as clearly as if she were standing behind her. "You can't help who you love, Katherine." Did that make Kate like her? The man she'd loved was an addict too.

Of course Jack wasn't Wayne, and he never would be. He drank to drown out his guilt over leaving so many of their friends behind, over not being able to save everyone; it wasn't in Wayne's nature to care that much about anyone, his family included.

That didn't make it right, but at least it was human. That was something she could relate to. After all, he wasn't the only one who'd screwed up in the past.

She regarded him for a moment: his pale face, his sweat-slicked skin, the dark, almost translucent circles under his eyes… He looked awful, like a dying man. "When was the last time you ate?" she asked him.

He considered the question, closing his eyes as he tried to remember. "Yesterday, maybe?" His expression was sheepish as he added, "Everything's a little hazy."

No wonder he was so weak. She wouldn't be surprised if he was dehydrated too. "Well, if you're gonna beat this, you need to keep your strength up," she told him. "Why don't you let me fix you something?" She was missing dinner to take care of him; she might as well get a meal out of it.

"Honestly, Kate, I'm really not—" he began, but the rest of his protest was lost to her as she stood up from her chair and she strode out of the room.

It was evident when she opened the refrigerator, her eyes falling on the bare shelves, that he hadn't been shopping in weeks, unless you counted the liquor store. Apparently he'd been living off beer and take out.

She found a can of soup in the cupboard, pouring it into two bowls, before sticking each one in the microwave. Then she put them on a tray and carried them in to him with a couple of bottles of water.

"It's chicken noodle," she announced as she placed it in front of him, and he chuckled, thinking, she was sure, of the time Aaron had the measles and refused to eat anything else. She always made it for him when he was sick; maybe because it was one of the few truly maternal things her own mother had done.

"You brought crackers," Jack noted with a wry grin, turning the little plastic packet over in his hand.

She settled herself on the corner of his bed with her own bowl supported in her lap. "Like I said, they make me feel better," she agreed, cracking a tiny smile as she picked up her spoon.

Neither one of them spoke for a few moments while they concentrated on their food, and then he asked, "So where was he taking you?"

She pretended not to understand. "Who?"

"Your date."

If she'd had her way, they'd be at home right now, waiting for Aaron to fall asleep so that they could bring down his presents. "Jack," she complained, fixing him with a warning stare. She wasn't going to talk about David anymore, not when her love life was no longer any of his business.

"All right, all right," he agreed, but the next topic he chose wasn't any less loaded. "Do you remember our first date?"

"When we drove to that bed and breakfast in Santa Barbara?" How could she forget? It was the first time that they'd been anywhere without Aaron, and they'd barely left the room the entire weekend. She smiled at the memory. She'd missed her son like crazy – insisting on calling each morning and again at night so that she could hear his voice – but even so, they were three of the happiest days of her life.

Their trip down memory lane was cut short when Jack almost fell out of bed in his haste to get to the bathroom.

"You should have eaten the crackers first," she teased him when he let his head drop back against the wall after emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl. She wet a washcloth under the tap, using it to help him clean himself up, before fetching him some water to replace the fluid that he'd just lost.

"C'mon," she said, sliding her arm under his once the worst of it seemed to have passed, "Let's get you back into bed."

She helped him lie down, then covered him over again, perching on the edge of the mattress beside him. "How long does this part usually last? Detoxing?" she asked, reaching over to wipe a trickle of sweat from his forehead with the corner of the sheet. She wasn't sure how much more of it she could take. No matter what he'd done to her, he didn't deserve this. It was excruciating to watch.

"The pills should be out of my system now, so until my body adjusts," he told her, clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering.

"Do you have any idea when that will be?" she pressed. Surely it couldn't last much longer?

"Could be three days… Could be two weeks." Two weeks?

He pulled the comforter tighter around himself, until he was bundled up like a human burrito, but when he still couldn't seem to get warm, she kicked off her heels and climbed in beside him, wrapping him in her arms so that her body heat was added to his own.

He stopped shivering after a while and was still, and she lay there listening to the sound of his breathing as it slowed and began to even out.

She was exhausted after the stress of earlier in the evening; it made her so pleasantly drowsy herself that it took her a few moments to register the fact that she couldn't hear it anymore. "Jack?" She shook his shoulder, gently at first, then more vigorously as her concern morphed into to full blown panic. "Jack! Wake up."

"What?"

Relief flooded through her when he stirred, blinking up at her in confusion, and she felt embarrassed for letting her fear get the better of her. "Nothing," she assured him.

But when neither of them drifted off right away, she found that she couldn't hold back any longer. "Why're you doing this to yourself, Jack? Why not just wait and go to rehab?"

"I wanted to be clean for you – you and Aaron," he confessed simply. "I thought if I could just kick the habit, then maybe I'd be okay to come and see you tomorrow."

She'd grown so accustomed to his selfishness that it had never occurred to her that this might be about her.

"At meetings, they talk about how making amends is more than an apology," he continued, turning over and reaching for her hand. She didn't even know that he was going. He'd never said anything about it before. "I don't wanna apologise to you anymore, Kate. I wanted to show you that things could still be how they were."

It was one of the most romantic gifts he'd ever given her, putting himself through hell so that she could have the Christmas that he believed that she and Aaron deserved. "That's sweet, Jack, but the worst thing you can do for us now right now is try to rush your recovery." She wanted him to sober up and stay sober. It was the only way they were ever going to work as a family.

She decided then that if he was going to change his entire life for her, the least she could do was meet him halfway. "If you're serious about getting clean, then I think you should at least move back into the house," she told him. She would find out a way to make sure that it didn't affect Aaron too much; maybe having him around would even help Jack keep sight of his goal. "You shouldn't have to do this alone."

His dark eyes searched hers, as if he was still unsure why she was so determined to help him; on impulse, she wriggled closer to him, cupping his jaw in her palm and touching her lips lightly to his.

"What about David?" he teased her with a lopsided grin when she pulled back from the kiss.

David. Somehow in all the drama she'd managed to forget that he existed, much less that she'd already agreed to go out with him. "I'll call him in the morning," she promised. "Tell him we won't be having that date after all." Just as soon as she could figure out how to let him down gently.

She snuggled into him, resting her head in the centre of his chest, and this time, his arms came up around her shoulders to embrace her. She didn't know how long they stayed there like that; after what felt like an eternity, her attention was drawn to the glowing red display on the alarm.

12:04.

Christmas.

She would have to get home soon, to make sure 'Santa' delivered Aaron's presents, ready for when he burst into her room before sunrise, but for the moment, she was right where she wanted to be.

When she glanced down at him, she saw that he had drifted back to sleep. She could try to wake him again, but she didn't have the heart now that he was finally at peace. She kissed his cheek gently, allowing her lips to linger there as she whispered, "Merry Christmas, Jack..."

I don't know if I'll get time to update any of my other fics between now and the new year, so just in case: Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays! ;)