That morning was supposed to be her last at CTU. Two weeks ago they'd told her he was dead, that they'd found a body and identified it. She'd cried all night and turned in her resignation the next morning.
That morning, as she was finishing things off and preparing to leave for the last and final time she got the news—Jack was alive. So, she sat back down and got to work.
Three hours later she was told Jack was going to be sacrificed to save the country. She'd almost left again, but she knew he would want her to stay. She knew he would want her to see it through, so she did. She worked through it, tried not to cry when she thought he was dead, tried not to scream in happiness when she found out he was alive, tried not to throw herself at him the moment he walked into the room and saw her.
She listened as he called Kim, then Audrey, and told them both not to come to L.A.. Told them there was no way he could ever give either of them what they needed and if they loved him they would stay far away from him. She'd barely been able to stop herself from hugging him as he bit back tears and closed off the last remnants of his past life.
At the end of the day he followed her quietly out to her car. He had no where to go. He had no one but her.
He followed her into the small apartment, collapsed on her couch, said little but thank you as he ate what she put in front of him. It was like they were both ghosts, neither able to be full people anymore.
She turned on the light, so she could see him to bandage his wounds and suddenly his head cocked to the side and he studied her, "You hair…its brown. It's like chocolate brown. It's never been that color before."
"No," she said, as the tears finally began to roll down her face, "It's never been that color before."
He pulls her close then, breathes her in, strokes her hair and says, "I like it."