Disclaimer: I own nothing; I get paid nothing; I do this because I have a passion for writing ... and I have no life!
Rating: Teen, just because it is Jack Bauer
Summary: This is my version of the first hour of this season. I know this would probably take more time then necessary, but I thought it was a fun write, and good read. Please enjoy!
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Chapter 1
Twenty months, twenty long months, had passed. And now, now he was coming home. He heard the door begin to slide open. Light flooded the air crafts storage compartment. Though it was night, it was still hard for his eyes to adjust.
The man, slightly favoring his left foot, stumbled down the ramp. His hand-cuffs chaffed his wrists. His usually military short blonde hair nearly reached his shoulders; and his smooth, clean shaven face was covered with a straggly beard.
"Jack Bauer." said a graying older man who Jack recognized. His old buddy Curtis stood there too; gun pointed as if he would run away. Jack new that the only reason he'd been rescued was to be sacrificed. He, however, could only guess the reason and the who. He'd been saved a many a time before, only to then be used. He'd learned a long time ago that in his line of work, you can't get emotionally attached ... to anything. And in China he learned not to get too attached to himself either.
He'd become something similar to that of the living dead in China; a breathing, emotionless loveless soul.
Jack was led into a warehouse-like room and seated in a folding chair made of cold, grey steel, and but one lonely light hung about him. Sitting across from the two men that used to be his comrades, he felt like he was being interrogated, as if not the man they spoke of were the problem ... but as if he were the terrorist.
The men discussed the terror attacks. Jack sat silently; he could only guess what they would ask of him. And what they asked, finally, actually came as a relief.
The bottom line of what they begged of him came to as a request to be used as a human sacrifice. He was to be handed over to a group of Middle Eastern terrorists in exchange for an end to the horrifying attacks on American soil.
"So you'll do it, Jack?" Bill asked with a bit of a smirk, as if he hadn't just taken away Jack's life.
"I know what's being asked of me sir." he replied flatly. His grey eyes, the color and sternness of stone met Bill's.
He was directed to the back of the room to a shower, scissors, a comb and new clothes. He entered the room-like area slowly. He was slightly apprehensive towards the situation, but he kept his head high and mind cleared. He slowly made his way to the wash basin. He cleared his face of the dark, haunting dirt that mocked his features; then he trimmed his hair. Just as he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt to change he faltered when he heard a gasp behind him.
"Jack?! Is it really you?!" a woman's harsh voice asked.
He winced. He knew who was behind him, and had to refrain himself from running to her and gathering her in his arms. He couldn't do that to her. In a few hours time he'd be escorted to his death... it would be selfish of him to give her a false sense of hope.