One year.
That was how long it had been since Renee Walker had seen Jack Bauer. That was how long that she had been trying not to think about him. It had been a year since the attempt on her lip. She was still very alive, after extensive surgery and months in the hospital to heal the arterial damage and blood loss that had happened. The shot had been under two inches below her heart, and she had lived. Of course it didn't make any sense, of course she didn't understand the miracles doctors could work. But there she was, sitting on a bar stool, ordering the strongest bourbon they had available.
Her dark red hair fell in her face as she nodded in thanks to the bartender, sipping at it slightly. Her vodka of choice had always been bourbon, though this one seemed a bit weaker than what she was used to. That wasn't the reason there was her oh so familiar frown on her face, however. It wasn't uncommon for her to have an unhappy expression across her freckled face. But thinking that it had only been a year since everything had happened. She had seen Jack again, she had gone back under with the Russians and forced herself to have sex with Vladimir Laitanan, and ended up failing to save President Hassan. Then, of course, there was the factor she had died. She had been rushed away to St. Andrew's and pronounced dead. Technically, she had been. For a few minutes at least before she was revived. She had been in the hospital for months upon months, only getting out four months previous to the date.
Renee could still remember the vast majority of the day. Receiving the phone call from Brain Hastings, getting off the helicopter to see Chloe O'Brian. A face that to say the least she had never expected to meet up with again, not even on these terms. More than often terrorists plots [unless you happened to be the terrorist - then you were probably in hell] often consisted of the same people when it came to the side she seemed to fight for. But without having to deal with the threats of stopping terrorism, her life had never been more boring. How she was supposed to feel about that she had no idea.
Glancing around the bar skeptically out of habit, Renee's eyes fell on a figure. A ridiculously handsome and familiar figure, a figure who was supposed to think that she was dead along with the rest of the world. The last figure to really see her "alive" during the events of terrorism involving Kamistan and Russia.
Jack.
Her heart seemed to accelerate the moment the name fell in with her face. Renee's hands stumbled to get her wallet, pulling out a few bills and sliding them in the direction of the bartender. She didn't bother to wait for changing, sliding off of the bar stool immediately. Too quickly. She hadn't realized that she too had been spotted by the infamous Jack Bauer and he had come over to see if it really was her, causing her to slightly bump into his threatening figure as she moved to exit the bar. That certainly had not been a part of her plan to get the hell out of there and avoid Jack at all costs. Renee had no idea what she was supposed to do - she was supposed to be dead. Not good.
