This was actually the first fic I ever wrote, after Season 5. The original version has a more, shall we say, "steamy" ending, but I don't want to get myself in trouble here. So I'm working on a more p.c. coda, but I think it stands okay as it is, so I'll post it.
I would love to hear what you think, so if you have a moment, please drop me a comment!
Thanks, and enjoy!
Disclaimer: Jack and Audrey, sadly, do not belong to me. If they did, I would be a lot richer. Instead, that honor goes to the creators of 24, and to Kiefer and Kim, who bring them to life for us. I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
Audrey pulled the rental car up in front of the house and shut off the engine, but made no attempt to get out of the car. Instead, she peered out the window at the house, and then her gaze settled on the box lying on the passenger seat next to her. She closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the headrest.
You're an idiot, she told herself. You could have just mailed it. It hardly needs a hand delivery.
But the masochist in her knew why she was here. Knew why she had held onto the box and its contents for months. Knew why she was miles away from the conference center she was supposed to be where her father was speaking.
Because she had to see him one last time.
She opened her eyes, and glanced at the house again. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the box and opened the door.
Audrey rang the doorbell for a third time, mostly to prove to herself that this had been a shot in the dark anyway.
Well, I guess this is what you get, she thought and turned to go back to the car. At least she could grab a pen and leave a note on the box. It was better this way, she tried to convince herself. Less painful. But as she stepped off the stoop, the door opened behind her.
"Audrey."
She turned, snapped around by the voice she would know anywhere, and saw him standing in the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets.
The sight of him had an immediate effect on her, even though he looked much the same as when she'd seen him months earlier. He was dressed comfortably, in a pair of old jeans and a faded long-sleeve shirt with some long-forgotten band's logo across the front. His hair, as always, looked like he had just barely remembered to run his hand through it that morning. And the faint hint of a beard darkened the line of his jaw.
But it was his eyes that she was drawn to immediately. Lord, those eyes. The ones that could bring grown men to confession with the force of their stare, and yet the ones that knew her soul with a single glance.
As much as she thought she had been ready for it, the reality of him actually standing in front of her numbed her brain.
And the way he said her name, without surprise, made her think that he had seen her coming, that he had been watching her. Had he been deciding whether or not to answer the door?
"Jack," she managed to get out. They stared at each other, neither seeming to know how to do more than speak the other's name.
It was Jack who finally spoke.
"Do you…do you want to come in?" He took his hands out of his pockets, and gestured awkwardly toward the door.
She shook her head.
"No, I just came to…" she trailed off. She had just come to what? She hardly knew herself.
"Audrey." He stepped back and pushed the door open wider. She hesitated another moment. It was dangerous, she knew, to go in. Out here, in the afternoon sun it was safe, she could control this. Just give him the box, and walk away, the voice inside her head advised her. Do not make this harder than it has to be. You've seen him. That's all you wanted, right? Walk away.
But she had not been listening to that voice all day. Instead, she stepped past Jack and into the house, trying to ignore the way his eyes swept over her as she passed by him.
It was dark inside, cool. The only light was coming through the drawn window shades. The first thing she noticed when she walked in was all the boxes. They were in various stages of packing, some already taped and labeled.
She turned around as Jack closed the door behind him, and asked the obvious, "You're selling the house?"
He nodded, "Yeah. I…it's too big for just me. Kim doesn't want it, says there are too many memories…." He left the rest unspoken, but she knew; there were too many memories here for him too.
The silence stretched between them again, and Audrey found he was looking at her expectantly. Surprised, she realized that she was still clutching the box to her chest.
She looked down at it and then at him.
"I brought…" she cleared her throat and tried again. "These are your things. They were at my house in D.C. It's not much, really, but I thought you might want them. There are a couple pictures of Kim." She spoke hurriedly, as if she were afraid that he might not believe her reason for being there. She held it out.
"Oh." Jack stared at her again for a moment, and then stepped forward to take the box. "Thank you." He set it on a small table near the door.
Audrey hadn't thought beyond what she would say once she gave him the box, and she searched for something, anything. There were a thousand things she wanted to say, that needed to be said, but they all stuck in her throat. It was too damn hard, and she knew what his reaction would be anyway.
"How's Kim?" was best she could do, and instantly regretted it. But much to her surprise, the question brought a fleeting smile to his face.
"Good. She's slowly letting me spend some time with her. I try to see her once a week."
Audrey nodded, genuinely happy for him. "Jack, that's wonderful."
And then suddenly she had the feeling that she had to get out of there. This was too much - this small talk, the unnerving way he was looking at her as she spoke, the unexpected way she felt like she couldn't catch a complete breath.
She crossed her arms and looked at the floor, then willed herself to look back up at him.
"I'm sorry, I have to go," she said, and started to step toward the door. Before she could make it past him, however, Jack reached out and touched her forearm lightly.
"Audrey, wait."
His fingers on her arm felt like fire, even through the material of her blouse. She jerked away and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to control the riot of emotions his brief touch caused.
"Please don't," she managed in the strongest voice she could, still looking at the door.
Jack dropped his hand, and stepped back before saying,
"I just wanted…Are you…How are you?" She could hear the slight tremor in his voice.
How do you think I am? she wanted to say. I can barely get through each day without thinking of you.
I'm lost, she wanted to say.
But what she said was, "Please, Jack, I can't." she shook her head. "I can't do this. I have to go."
"Audrey, you came here."
"I know. I'm sorry. It was a mistake, I shouldn't have come." She reached for the doorknob. As she turned it, she heard him behind her say softly, in a voice filled with anguish,
"I did it to protect you, Audrey. You have to believe that."
She turned on him, the old anger flaring instantly.
"You did it to protect yourself, Jack! You did it so you wouldn't have to feel any more. Because you think you shouldn't be happy. Because you think that you deserve to be punished for the rest of your life!"
She caught the hard look on his face, and was out the door before he had a chance to respond. As she hurried down the driveway, she heard the door slam behind her.
Audrey managed to keep the tears at bay until she couldn't see the house any more. But as she left the neighborhood, they finally spilled over, and she swiped at them angrily.
It's your own damn fault. He was right – you went there.
She took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself. Looking at the clock on the dash, she realized it was now too late to make it back to the conference center; her father would almost be done with his speech by now. Instead, she drove back to the hotel, intending to get some work done, and maybe keep her mind off what just happened.
But when she got to her room, she found she was too restless to concentrate on anything. After leaving her father a message to let him know she was all right, and that she would meet him for breakfast in the morning, she changed into a pair of running shorts and shirt, and headed back outside into the early Spring evening. There was a park about a mile from the hotel with some decent trails, and Audrey broke into a slow jog in that direction. Reaching the park, she picked up her pace, trying desperately to leave the afternoon behind her.
