Part one of what I hope will continue…uh, assuming nobody flames me to a
crisp. I just noticed that there weren't any slash stories in the 24
category. I thought it needed at least one…::innocent look::
Spoilers for: most of the episodes.
The hospital catapults him into the opposite of CTU. Everything white, everywhere, abuzz with activity. People moving, running, talking. Back at work--back at work where he would be if Mason hadn't ordered him to take a day off--everything was dim and gray, lit by the dull blue glow of computer screens. The noise there was a dull background hum, like a hive of insects, unless something bad happened, in which case people shouted and waved papers. Like…like yesterday…when everything bad happened. He grumbled to himself. He wanted to be working, but no, no, Mason said "take the day off", had said, "things will be fine without you. Go. Sleep."
Sleep? What? Sleep in a too-empty bed in a cavernous house where the sheets still smelled of his wife's perfume, where her clothes were still in the dresser, her soap in the shower? No. No. He kept moving. He was looking for something. No--someone. DeSalvo, the defense department worker. One of the last people he trusted who was alive. Mason…well, Mason was alive, and trustworthy, but was also his boss. It didn't work to talk about things with Mason.
It had taken him two hours of phone calls and emails, but he'd finally extracted the figures for the compound escape. 12 dead, 6 wounded in the initial break. 3 more had died of their injuries. The last three were at Los Angeles County Hospital, in stable condition. He'd gotten the bios on the survivors--Mike McGavin, Daniel Thomasino, and Mark DeSalvo. Good. He'd spoken with DeSalvo. Despite having only known him for two hours, he liked the man, trusted him. And he needed someone to talk with who'd understand.
So here he was, ignoring the confused, occasionally derisive or fearful looks of the nurses, heading up to the right floor.
The nurse on the wing stopped him, backed up by two armed guards.
"Sir. Excuse me, sir. You can't be up here."
"Jack Bauer, CTU." He flashed his badge automatically.
The nurse was a quick one, and snagged it. He clenched and unclenched his fists waiting for her to give him the okay.
"Who are you here for?"
"DeSalvo. Mark DeSalvo."
"I see."
The guards peer over the diminutive woman's shoulder.
"You're clear, but regulation says I have to send Mr. Jenkins in with you." She gestured to the taller of the two guards, who looked to be an ex- football player, huge, lacking any neck, red hair clipped into a severe crew-cut on his short, round head.
"Right, right, sure." Anything. Just…I need someone to talk to. Please. Let me in, dammit.
Jenkins led him to a room with a heavy metal door, fitted with a card- lock. A quick swipe of plastic, and the big man led him in. "Go on."
DeSalvo was either asleep or very, very drugged, because even with the loud clack-thump of the door shutting, he did not stir, his head did not move at all to look in their direction. Then Jack saw the thick bandage, the brace around his neck and right shoulder. He came closer. The eyes were open, watching. Enough needles and tubes that he looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, not a living human being.
"Hey."
Silence. A twitch of a hand by way of greeting.
"Remember me? I'm Jack Bauer."
Another twitch, the eyes flickering from side to side.
"We met at the compound."
Slowly, dark eyes blinked, lips shifted. A faint, hoarse voice. "Yeah. 'Member you. Bauer."
Stupid, Jack thought. Of course he doesn't respond right away. If the he's not paralyzed by whatever drugs they have in him, the bandage and brace prevent most of the movement of his jaw. Stupid. "Drazen's dead."
Something that might have been a smile ghosted over the man's face. "Good."
"You know, I'm not exactly sure why I'm here."
"Wondered…" arching brows, curious look.
"I guess," Jack laughed softly, bitterly, "that you're probably the only person today who didn't betray me or leave me for dead--that is, the only one still alive."
The eyes closed then. "Huh. Sucks f'you."
"I'll leave if you want--"
"No. Stay."
"You're sure?" Why was he feeling compassion for this man who was essentially a stranger? Why did he want to stay?
"Yes. Stay."
"Okay."
He stood, and DeSalvo lay there, neither of them speaking for several long minutes. The guard tapped his foot impatiently.
"Know…" the dark man said softly, smiling, "Wish I rated high enou'fer smart heavies."
Jack couldn't help it. He started to chuckle. All the stress of the day, all the horrible things, and he was standing here and laughing. "And I thought you feds had no sense of humor…"
"No…just you guys too dumb t'gettit…"
He was chuckling harder now, shoulders shaking, muscles of his belly tight. "Right. We must be idiots. After all, if we were smart like you, we'd actually have concrete hours…"
"…and a good diet…"
"…and less of the budget would be taken up by coffee…"
"…and lives."
Jack stopped. Lives. How many lives were lost today because I fucked up? Oh, dear god…Lives…my life…my wife…oh, Teri…I'm sorry… He didn't want to think about that. No. Not the waxy coldness of her skin, blue veins, red blood turning ruddy brown on her shirt…
"Bauer?"
"Uh."
"Sorry…man. Shouldn' of done that."
"It's okay."
Spoilers for: most of the episodes.
The hospital catapults him into the opposite of CTU. Everything white, everywhere, abuzz with activity. People moving, running, talking. Back at work--back at work where he would be if Mason hadn't ordered him to take a day off--everything was dim and gray, lit by the dull blue glow of computer screens. The noise there was a dull background hum, like a hive of insects, unless something bad happened, in which case people shouted and waved papers. Like…like yesterday…when everything bad happened. He grumbled to himself. He wanted to be working, but no, no, Mason said "take the day off", had said, "things will be fine without you. Go. Sleep."
Sleep? What? Sleep in a too-empty bed in a cavernous house where the sheets still smelled of his wife's perfume, where her clothes were still in the dresser, her soap in the shower? No. No. He kept moving. He was looking for something. No--someone. DeSalvo, the defense department worker. One of the last people he trusted who was alive. Mason…well, Mason was alive, and trustworthy, but was also his boss. It didn't work to talk about things with Mason.
It had taken him two hours of phone calls and emails, but he'd finally extracted the figures for the compound escape. 12 dead, 6 wounded in the initial break. 3 more had died of their injuries. The last three were at Los Angeles County Hospital, in stable condition. He'd gotten the bios on the survivors--Mike McGavin, Daniel Thomasino, and Mark DeSalvo. Good. He'd spoken with DeSalvo. Despite having only known him for two hours, he liked the man, trusted him. And he needed someone to talk with who'd understand.
So here he was, ignoring the confused, occasionally derisive or fearful looks of the nurses, heading up to the right floor.
The nurse on the wing stopped him, backed up by two armed guards.
"Sir. Excuse me, sir. You can't be up here."
"Jack Bauer, CTU." He flashed his badge automatically.
The nurse was a quick one, and snagged it. He clenched and unclenched his fists waiting for her to give him the okay.
"Who are you here for?"
"DeSalvo. Mark DeSalvo."
"I see."
The guards peer over the diminutive woman's shoulder.
"You're clear, but regulation says I have to send Mr. Jenkins in with you." She gestured to the taller of the two guards, who looked to be an ex- football player, huge, lacking any neck, red hair clipped into a severe crew-cut on his short, round head.
"Right, right, sure." Anything. Just…I need someone to talk to. Please. Let me in, dammit.
Jenkins led him to a room with a heavy metal door, fitted with a card- lock. A quick swipe of plastic, and the big man led him in. "Go on."
DeSalvo was either asleep or very, very drugged, because even with the loud clack-thump of the door shutting, he did not stir, his head did not move at all to look in their direction. Then Jack saw the thick bandage, the brace around his neck and right shoulder. He came closer. The eyes were open, watching. Enough needles and tubes that he looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, not a living human being.
"Hey."
Silence. A twitch of a hand by way of greeting.
"Remember me? I'm Jack Bauer."
Another twitch, the eyes flickering from side to side.
"We met at the compound."
Slowly, dark eyes blinked, lips shifted. A faint, hoarse voice. "Yeah. 'Member you. Bauer."
Stupid, Jack thought. Of course he doesn't respond right away. If the he's not paralyzed by whatever drugs they have in him, the bandage and brace prevent most of the movement of his jaw. Stupid. "Drazen's dead."
Something that might have been a smile ghosted over the man's face. "Good."
"You know, I'm not exactly sure why I'm here."
"Wondered…" arching brows, curious look.
"I guess," Jack laughed softly, bitterly, "that you're probably the only person today who didn't betray me or leave me for dead--that is, the only one still alive."
The eyes closed then. "Huh. Sucks f'you."
"I'll leave if you want--"
"No. Stay."
"You're sure?" Why was he feeling compassion for this man who was essentially a stranger? Why did he want to stay?
"Yes. Stay."
"Okay."
He stood, and DeSalvo lay there, neither of them speaking for several long minutes. The guard tapped his foot impatiently.
"Know…" the dark man said softly, smiling, "Wish I rated high enou'fer smart heavies."
Jack couldn't help it. He started to chuckle. All the stress of the day, all the horrible things, and he was standing here and laughing. "And I thought you feds had no sense of humor…"
"No…just you guys too dumb t'gettit…"
He was chuckling harder now, shoulders shaking, muscles of his belly tight. "Right. We must be idiots. After all, if we were smart like you, we'd actually have concrete hours…"
"…and a good diet…"
"…and less of the budget would be taken up by coffee…"
"…and lives."
Jack stopped. Lives. How many lives were lost today because I fucked up? Oh, dear god…Lives…my life…my wife…oh, Teri…I'm sorry… He didn't want to think about that. No. Not the waxy coldness of her skin, blue veins, red blood turning ruddy brown on her shirt…
"Bauer?"
"Uh."
"Sorry…man. Shouldn' of done that."
"It's okay."