It was late in the day, and the sun had set several hours ago. She had been working even longer hours as of late, not that it bothered her. It made these nights easier, and made coming home to an empty apartment more bearable. She would merely walk in, throw her keys on a table, and crash, leaving no time to let the solitude and the quiet get to her. She would sleep a dreamless sleep and wake up at 5 AM the next morning ready to repeat the cycle. It wasn't what she wanted, or what she had planned, but it was life. She could live with it.
It seemed like any other night until she made her way up the staircase and down the hall to her apartment. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the outside lock, which looked as if a sledgehammer had been taken to it - or at the very least, somebody picked it without much concern as to remaining covert. Scrambling to get her purse off of her shoulder, she unzipped the main compartment and fished around clumsily, finding and grabbing her gun within seconds. Her stomach twisting into a knot, she nudged the door open and stepped inside, quietly dropping her purse to the floor and scanning the main room. Down the hallway her bedroom door hung open, the light from inside seeping out and illuminating the rest of the darkened apartment. Swallowing hard and willing herself forward, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she was halfway through the hallway and approaching the open door, gun held high and as steady as her shaky hands could allow.
Stopping just a step shy of the bedroom door, she closed her eyes and drew a breath as she made one last futile effort to calm her nerves before turning and taking the door. Immediately she lowered the gun and felt her fear give way to confusion, the expression on her face giving away as much. There, in the middle of her bedroom with his back turned to her, stood Jack Bauer - standing over her bed, upon which rested her opened suitcase, into which he was tossing her clothes.
"Jack?" she called through lowered eyes, her gun still lingering in her tight clutches as he turned around and locked eyes with her.
"Chloe," he answered softly, his hand lingering on the suitcase as took her in. It felt like it had been years since he had last laid eyes on her.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, eyes darting from her open dresser back to the suitcase, then finally back to his eyes. The look she found there was nothing if not sure, but sure of what? The question brought her fear bacl, growing as he seemingly hesitated to answer.
"What I should have done a long time ago," he finally answered, holding her gaze.
"Okay," she replied impatiently, "meaning?"
His eyes fell to her hands and, a tiny smile crossing his lips, he answered, "Do you mind if you put the gun down first?"
With a roll of her eyes she begrudgingly walked across the room to the dresser, where she stashed the gun but not before noticing what looked like two plane tickets lying on her bed next to the suitcase. He saw her staring at the tickets and reluctantly found his voice, hoping the right words would come out as he began to speak. "I'm leaving, Chloe."
Crossing her arms against her chest, she narrowed her glare before replying. "That's not surprising, considering this is the first time I've seen you since you dropped off the face of the earth two months ago. I'm just curious as to why you need my suitcase and my clothes to get wherever you're going."
"I need your suitcase and your clothes because you're going with me," he replied.
"Going with you where?" she asked, squinting and ready to burst if he didn't stop being so cryptic and start explaining. "Jack, I swear, if you don't start telling me what's going on..."
Looking away, he picked the tickets up from the bed and walked slowly to her, keeping his eyes down until they stood opposite of one another. He reached out and handed her the tickets, watching as she took them from his hands and looked over them. Slowly she drew her eyes back to his and asked quietly, "Paris?"
"Chloe," he began, "after I left I found a car and...I just drove. I drove until I was out of the state and I didn't stop. I didn't stay in the same place for more than a day, and eventually I ended up in New York," he said with an almost inaudibly small chuckle. "But It was something I had to do after everything that happened. I had to be alone and figure everything out."
"Did you?" she asked, her brain trying desperately hard to tie everything together but coming up short.
He looked into her eyes and paused for a long moment, holding her gaze as he replied, "I missed you, Chloe."
She swallowed down the lump in her throat and answered, "I missed you, too, but..."
"But what?" he pressed when she fell silent.
"I still don't know what you're trying to tell me."
"What if I showed you instead of told you?" he asked, the confusion growing evident on her face. Then he stepped closer and brushed a hand across her cheek, his fingers moving to tuck her hair behind her ear. She seemed to freeze at his touch, and for a minute Jack's panic rose at the sudden fear that her feelings were nowhere near the same as his. Determined, he closed the distance between them and brought his lips crashing down on to hers.
Stunned and breathless as shockwaves coursed through her veins, the plane tickets fell from her grasp onto the floor and Chloe gasped when he pulled away, staring with wide eyes into his own. "Jack?"
He could see the confusion in her eye and hear it in her voice, leading him to clear it up the only way he knew how. He leaned in again, kissing her lips and slowly nudging them apart with his tongue as he backed her into a wall opposite of the bed, beside the dresser. He pressed his body into hers and soon felt her hands leave their anxious clutch on his shoulders for his hair as she slowly came back to life, returning his kisses and pulling him closer until she suddenly broke away.
"Are you sure about this?" Chloe asked, panting with him and holding his face in her hands.
"Chloe," he grinned, "I haven't been this sure about anything in a long time. Why do you ask?"
"Your hands are shaking," she replied, gesturing to her hips, where his hands were planted.
"So are yours," he countered before their lips met again, slower at first but quickly regaining the feverish pace, and before Chloe had time to realize, he was lifting her up on to his waist and pressing her harder into the wall, leaving her mouth for her neck as his hands started to wander. When he pushed her already haphazard skirt further up her thighs and ground against her, giving away his arousal, she had to fight to keep from falling faint. "My God, Jack..."
He came back up and kissed her softly before muttering, "I know this is fast, Chloe, I'm sorry, but I...God," he whispered, "I need you."
Unable to count how many times she had heard him speak those words to her in her dreams, she then followed with words that, for some reason, hadn't been a part of those dreams. "Okay," she replied, "but can you need me on the bed?"
Smiling, he turned and hastily walked them the short distance to the bed, breaking his lips away from hers only to lay her down and push the open suitcase out of the way and to the floor. Then he was on top of her, covering her body with his and dragging against it, helping her as she tugged at his clothes, his shirt the first casualty. She felt him tense, out of sad instinct, as her fingertips came into contact with the scars engraved in his back, but he relaxed soon after, lulled by her soothing whispers in his ear and feathery strokes over the ragged edges of the largest marks. He kissed her almost gratefully, his desire mounting as he started undoing the buttons of her blouse, quickly getting impatient and ripping the last few before her voice snapped him out of his daze. "Jack?"
"What?" he asked, his face hovering mere inches above hers.
"Just...just don't expect anything great, okay?" she asked weakly, adding, "Not that I think you have high hopes or anything, but..."
He narrowed his eyes and tried to search hers for what could possibly lead her to say this. "What are you talking about?"
She pursed her lips and muttered, "Please don't make me spell it out for you, Jack."
"Chloe," he replied with what sounded like anger punctuating his voice, "don't you ever talk about yourself like that again, do you hear me?" He cupped her face in his hands and looked her straight in the eye. "Never. Do you understand me?"
"...Okay," she choked, swallowing hard before he kissed her again, deep and full of care, full of passion that she wasn't sure if she could handle. He left kisses across her cheek that led him to her ear, where he kissed and nibbled and, she thought, whispered, but she could hear little else but the pounding of her own heart. thumping in her chest and pumping blood that felt like fire inside her veins. He left her ear and kissed down her neck as he moved down her body, his lips softly trailing her chest until they reached a white lace-covered breast. She sucked in a deep breath and held on to it as he pulled down the straps of her bra from her shoulders, gasping out the breath when he took the lace between his teeth and dragged it down to expose her nipple to his eyes. Then she was completely breathless, threading her fingers through his hair as he kissed and suckled, reaching underneath her and undoing the clasp of the bra so he could discard it to the floor. Then he moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention as he pulled her skirt down from her hips along with her panties, though she barely noticed as she moaned softly at every flick of his tongue and kiss of his lips.
Then suddenly the weight of his body was gone and she jolted back to a half-reality, the coldness of the air rushing over her startlingly bare skin as she watched with slightly wide eyes as he kicked off the rest of his clothes. He was gone for but a moment before he covered her again, kissing her as he settled in and felt her legs wrap around his waist. He brushed against her and she shuddered involuntarily, anxiety pouring alongside excitement, all of the sensations brought to a head when he pulled his lips from hers and thrust inside. He moaned almost as loudly as she did, his hazy memory of what pleasure felt like suddenly brought back to life upon that first contact. He kissed her again, this time holding her lips with his as he entered again, met by the thrust of her own hips and a moan that escaped from her throat and carried into his. It was almost too much, and he had to focus hard to keep from falling overwhelmed. She moved impatiently, urging him forward, and he thrust again, and within seconds found a steady rhythm that allowed him to drop his head and bury it in the crook of her neck as it took hold and took them away.
He held out for as long as he could before it became too much and he gave in, the ragged and muffled cry of her name sending her shuddering off the edge with him as their voices filled the air and left it humid with the lingering aftershocks. He collapsed helplessly on top of her, taking a minute before he rolled off and pulled her close against him, both panting wildly and silently as he pulled a sheet up and covered them with it. They lay facing one another, staring into each other's eyes, afraid to say anything for fear of ruining the moment. He kissed her forehead and tangled his fingers in her hair, a smile playing on his lips as he pulled away and took her in. Finally she broke the silence.
"So," she sighed, "Paris."
"Yeah," he smiled, a thumb caressing her cheek.
"It was awfully presumptuous of you to come in here like this, you know."
"I know," he replied. "But I didn't think you'd mind."
She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes good naturedly. "So when's the plane leave?"
"One hour."
She smiled broadly, though nervously, muttering, "One hour," before taking his face in her hands and kissing him softly, this time with the promise of many more to come.