Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. Don't get me started on how much I wish that wasn't the case. Nor does the title of this chapter belong to me. It is actually the name of a campaign run by SickKids because I no longer posses the creative skills needed to come up with my own title. That and it actually fits with the chapter.

A/N: You guys are too good to me. After surprising me with the highest number of reviews I have ever gotten for a fic, I am ashamed at myself for waiting over a month to give you another update. Please forgive me. Don't feed me to Ol' Smokey. Not yet anyway.

Chapter 9: Together We Will

Marc pulled up beside the quaint brown house with the white trim a good twenty minutes after the phone call with Kate, his heart heavy and his mind screaming at him to drive away. It wasn't too late to back out yet.

The image of Jack fighting for him over thirty years ago entered his head. Unwittingly he found himself standing in the doorway, his trauma kit slung over his shoulder and his hand on the doorbell before his actions caught up with him. By now he'd made his choice, even if it was more instinctual than a rational decision, and there was nothing he could do but wait for someone to answer the door. He shuffled the paper bag he was holding from hand to hand nervously.

He'd always been the one to run away. If the events at school that day had been reversed, without a doubt he would have left Jack alone. Jack was the kind of person who stuck up for others, who had a good head on his shoulders and who was forceful enough to get things done. Marc was the opposite: shy, reserved, never too proud to turn to a bottle when he'd had a rough day.

Jack, he knew, had such high morals because he was raised by a man with the opposite. Marc had watched him work to overcome that all his life. So when Jack started slipping up, coming home drunk or calling him at four in the morning to pick him up, Marc got angry. He hated to see what was happening to his friend and didn't want to face him now when Jack was clearly at his worst.

But he had no other choice. Jack would have done the same thing for him – in all honesty Jack would have been beside him from the beginning – which made him a much better friend than Marc would ever be.

By this time the door still hadn't opened. After ringing the bell more forcefully, Marc was beginning to doubt whether anyone was home. More out of habit than anything else he tried turning the knob and was surprised to find the front door unlocked.

As soon as he stepped inside the dimly lit hallway he became aware of the sound of rushing water that seemed to be emanating from upstairs. His leather shoes thumped loudly on the carpeted stairs as he made his way up them, nearly stepping in puddles of what appeared to be vomit when he reached the top. He caught sight of the closed bathroom door with waves of steam curling out through the cracks and busted it open with more force than necessary. He skidded across the floor, slippery with condensed steam, nearly slamming into the counter as he worked to steady himself.

The door of the shower opened cautiously. He found himself face-to-face with Kate, clad in nothing more than a bra and her underwear, and soaking wet. Her face was flushed with heat and she was staring at him with an expression of surprise.

"How is he?" Marc called out, sliding off the shoes and jacket he had worn to work that day – he'd barely walked in the door after his shift before Kate called him – setting down his bags and sidling into the shower beside her. Jack was huddled up in a corner, as far away from the relentless hot spray as possible; the boxers covering his lower half were drenched, as were the pair beside him. Marc frowned, wondering what kind of antics Jack and Kate had been up to before his withdrawal symptoms overcame him. He raised an eyebrow at the half-shaved mess of a beard that covered Jack's face, focusing on the ugly red gash across his jawbone. It had stopped bleeding but would need to be closed to prevent infection.

Marc felt his friend's forehead tenderly, steadying him as he winced backward, slamming into the tile-patterned wall.

"It's okay, Jack. It's just me." He tried to maintain a soothing edge to his voice as he worked to calm Jack down. That was one thing he'd always been better at: handling the patients. Sure, Jack was undoubtedly the smarter of the two, but Marc had always prided himself on his people skills. However, he'd never had to treat Jack like a patient before and wasn't entirely comfortable with the situation.

"He's running a fever." He turned his attention to Kate, his words clipped. "He needs to cool down before it gets worse." She nodded, biting her lip anxiously and turning the water down to cold, quickly stepping out of the way, shivering at the cold water droplets that still managed to connect with her warm skin.

Marc arched his back at the sudden drop in temperature, feeling the cold liquid soak through his white dress shirt, drip down his body. Jack began thrashing against him, shouting loudly in discomfort as he too felt the water go from scalding hot to freezing cold. He squirmed to get away, latching on to Marc and attempting to throw him out of the way in his efforts to crawl from the shower. Marc fought back, pushing Jack into the corner, holding out his arm to Kate.

Her hands shook as she passed him the nozzle, watching him spray it against Jack's taut body.

"Stop it!" she screamed at Marc, Jack's desperate cries of pain growing louder. "You're hurting him!"

The look on his face as he turned to glare at her, his eyes a wicked sea of ice, sent more shivers along her spine than the water did.

"You called me here to do what you couldn't, Kate. I'm here to help him and, like it or not, this is what Jack needs. If we let his fever get any worse the other withdrawal symptoms will only be more painful for him later. So if you can't handle this, why don't you wait outside until I'm done?"

She bristled at his command, so alike the tone he had used with her on the phone that she had to clench her fists together to stop from slamming them against him.

"Who do you think – "

Marc cut the beginnings of her rant short. "I'm someone who cares about Jack and who isn't afraid to do what's necessary to help him. Unlike you, who drops him and runs as soon as it gets too tough."

He watched the fire slowly drain from her eyes and felt a brief stirring of guilt. True, she had abandoned Jack when he needed her the most, had left him to struggle through his problems on his own, but that didn't mean she needed it thrown in her face.

Before he could apologize, he felt the palm of Kate's hand connect sharply with his skin. Then she was gone. Marc heard the bathroom door slam shut in the silence punctuated only by Jack's whimpering. He rubbed his stinging cheek absentmindedly, training the spray back on his friend, hating himself for the tired moans Jack made. He stared at the circles beneath Jack's eyes and wondered how long it had been since he'd gotten a decent sleep.

"Come on, buddy. Just a few more minutes. We'll get you through this, I promise."

Soon the feverish tinge to Jack's skin had all but disappeared, leaving him shivering violently.

Marc turned off the shower and stepped out to grab Jack a towel from the rack, shedding water all across the floor in the process. He quickly wrapped up his friend since Jack didn't seem able to perform the action himself. He was resting in a heap on the floor, his limbs feeling more like heavy weights than anything else, until Marc heaved him to his feet and supported his frame as they made their way to the bedroom.

Kate was sitting on the bed. Marc glanced down, ashamed to see tear tracks covering her cheeks. She blinked at him angrily through red-rimmed eyes.

"You had no right to say that." Marc nodded, hanging his head even lower.

"I know and I apologize, Kate. I went too far. But can we focus on Jack right now?" He waited until she acknowledged his request before continuing. "Do you have any spare blankets?"

She headed downstairs while Marc stripped the crisp white sheets off the bed and helped Jack lie down against the headboard. He was sweating profusely, despite the cooling effects of the shower. Marc worried that his fever was getting worse.

Kate returned to the bedroom, her arms laden with piles of blankets – the ones she always used when Aaron was sick. She watched Marc chuckle slyly at the cartoon spaceships, dinosaurs and patterned beaches on them.

"Jack's gonna love that when he wakes up," he remarked, pulling a thermometer out of the blue nylon trauma kit he'd brought with him. After sticking an end in Jack's mouth and waiting a few seconds, he frowned. The digital screen read 102.1.

"I need a cold compress. His fever's still pretty high and I'd like to cool him down a bit more before doing anything else."

"There's one downstairs in the fridge."

As soon as Marc left the room she spread the blankets carefully over Jack's shaking frame, piling them on one layer after another. She sat beside him, stroking his wet hair. He twitched in dismay at the feather light touch along his scalp and grunted softly before managing to form words.

"Did you drug me again, Katie?" The corners of her mouth turned down automatically, the ragged whisper of her childhood nickname bringing to mind the crack of a dirt-covered baseball connecting with a bat. She could have shut her eyes and allowed her subconscious mind to conjure up images of dusted roads and rusty bicycles.

"No Jack. You did this to yourself," she replied wretchedly.

Marc returned to see Jack's face distorted in concentration as he woozily mulled over Kate's words.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, catching the miserable look she was wearing as he placed the chilled packet on Jack's warm forehead.

"What does it matter to you?" Kate couldn't help snapping at him. He shrugged.

"Just being polite."

Once he was satisfied that the compress was doing its job he reached into his bag again, this time emerging with a small plastic object in hand. "A pulse oximeter," he explained to Kate. He clipped it onto Jack's finger, watching as bright red numbers appeared.

"O2 stats at 93. 72 bpm. Not bad. Could be better, but considering the circumstances..."

Jack heard the male voice above him, fought through the lead weights pressing against his eyelids. He thrashed against the ropes that were surely binding him, his efforts churning up bile in his stomach. He rolled over and spat violently.

Marc jumped back as Jack nearly threw up on him. He watched his friend beat at the blankets, tangling them into a mess at his feet. Somehow Jack wrenched himself upright and stood there on shaky legs, staring blankly at Marc who wondered if Jack was seeing him or someone else entirely.

He'd come to the conclusion that Jack wasn't aware of his presence at all when the delirious man took one delicate step and pitched forward, nearly falling to the floor if Marc hadn't caught him. Immediately when he came in contact with Jack's scorching flesh, Marc felt his friend's fist connect with his face. He yelped.

"I'm definitely gonna have a bruise tomorrow," he remarked dryly, hefting Jack onto the bed. "Can you hold him down, Kate? There's one more thing I've gotta do." From his trauma bag he produced a thin needle, the sharp tip catching Kate's attention.

"You're going to stick that into him now?" She crossed her arms protectively, placing herself directly in front of Jack. "I don't think so."

Marc sighed. Kate was certainly wearing down his patience. He wondered how long he'd be able to put up with her antics.

"Jack needs a tox screen and I thought this would be easier than bringing him back to St. Sebastian's." He stepped around her carelessly, focusing his efforts on Jack as he attempted to wrap a tourniquet around his upper arm.

"Stay still for just a sec. It'll be over soon," he murmured to the frantic man whose fists were still flying in all directions. Marc ducked lightly to avoid one to the eye. "Dammit. Kate, you have to hold him down or I'll never get this done."

She continued glaring at him. He was sure his hair would soon catch on fire with the heat of her gaze.

"Fine. I'll hold him down and you can stick him with the needle." That got her attention. Marc clearly wasn't giving in and the last thing she wanted was to have him miss Jack's vein or end up stabbing himself; no matter how much she hated the guy, she'd hate herself even more if something happened to him because she couldn't put her own pride out of the way for the sake of Jack's health.

She reached for Jack's flailing limbs as a sign of her submission, pinning them to the mattress as Marc expertly drew blood from the vein at the base of his elbow. He removed the needle carefully, sticking the tip into a glass vial before unwrapping the tourniquet and placing a bandage over the spot, signaling Kate to release Jack.

They both stepped back as his arms relapsed into their restless swinging.

"What're you doin' here?" he asked in Marc's general direction. His words were slurred from exhaustion, shutters still wracking his frame every once in a while.

"I came to help. Kate told me you weren't doing too good..."

Jack's eyes nearly rolled back in his head when he opened them to see a familiar face standing beside him.

"You're dead! What the hell are you doing here?"

Marc raised an eyebrow. His friend was too far gone into the recesses of his own mind, too far lost in the cravings to make sense any more.

"Okay. I thought we'd wait this out, see if it would get any better, but that's not happening." He disappeared into steamy bathroom, guiltily eying the puddles that drenched the tiled floor, and returned with a paper shopping bag in his hand, from which he pulled a bottle of bourbon and two prescription pill containers he'd picked up from the pharmacy earlier.

"No."

Marc turned, startled as the word ripped itself from Kate's mouth. Her eyes had narrowed into cat-like slits, her gaze fixated on the bottle.

"How dare you bring that in here? How dare you?"

"Kate, he's suffering from serious withdrawal right now. With all the shit that's been in his system he can't just go cold turkey. It'll kill him," Marc tried to reason with her.

She clenched her hands into fists against her chest, trying as hard as she could to control the urge to hit him. "Not here. I didn't call you over here so you could give Jack his next fix. I wanted your help. I trusted you!"

"Then trust me on this. Jack's body couldn't survive the withdrawal otherwise. Already the hallucinations are starting and if he doesn't take something soon, then he's at risk of a seizure."

Kate looked up at him, her eyes wide and glittering. She hadn't realized just how quickly this already shitty situation could turn into something much worse. Her head fell into her hands as she furiously blinked back tears. She couldn't do this anymore. She had no idea to help Jack, according to Marc she was only making things worse. She wasn't cut out to handle this, to handle Jack.

"If you're so sure how to treat him, then why don't you take him back to your place?" she shouted, her voice breaking on the last line. Marc patted her shoulder gently, his sympathy temporarily overpowering his resentment towards her, and this time she didn't flinch away at his touch.

"You called me, Kate. Not the other way around. I can't bring him home, I don't think my girlfriend needs to deal with an angry man going through withdrawal. She already has me," he added, trying to lighten the mood. Kate laughed, an unexpected gurgle that ruptured from her throat. This was the man she'd been hoping for when she'd called Marc in the first place.

"Why do you hate me so much?" Her question sounded pitiful even to her own ears.

"I don't – " Marc stopped. He wasn't about to lie to her, that wasn't what she needed right now. But he wasn't about to tell the truth either. "This isn't about me, it's about Jack. He needs you, Kate. You've been there for him in ways I was never able to, and I'm asking you to be there for him one last time. He needs your support, that's all he ever wanted.

"You don't have to do this alone anymore, Kate. I'm here to help, that's why you called me isn't it? We can get through this together, but you have to start trusting me. I've dealt with these kinds of cases before, I have experience that you don't. So help me help Jack, okay?"

She rubbed her eyes, angry for losing it in front of this man whom she knew nothing about other than that he had a history with Jack and was now using his own personal time to help make his friend's withdrawal easier.

"Okay?" Marc repeated. She nodded her head slowly.

"Okay." He smiled and for a moment Kate saw someone other than a haggard doctor trying unsuccessfully to put aside his personal resentments and aid someone he cared about. Instead she saw the man who had led Jack on a fair share of adventures in his early days – or at least, the man from the few childhood stories Jack had allowed himself to share with her.

"Let's do this." It was the face of a man she was surprised to find herself beginning to admire just the slightest bit.

This chapter was more of an experiment for me as I worked out the kinks in Marc's character. Don't count him out just yet, he's got a good heart. He just has a funny way of showing it.

Up next: back to the acual plot. Who needs character development? Jack gets a treat. Marc and Kate have an honest conversation (with very little yelling. No, wait, that's not possible).