"Show Me What You've Got"
Jack was beat, just beat, as he finally got the key in the lock and opened the door. He glanced at the clock as he managed to get into his bedroom. He was too tired to undress, too tired to do anything but sleep.
But sleep wouldn't come. The last day had been horrible. Two agents dead; he'd have to see their families. Three more in the hospital, one critically injured. The doctors weren't too hopeful about him. The others were expected to recover. As always after something went wrong, especially one as bad as this, Jack couldn't stop his mind from racing, reliving and replaying the events of the day. What went wrong? What could he have done differently? Could this fiasco have been avoided? Did he have the right people? Had he used all of the CTU resources available? All of these questions went through his head, one after another, as he lay on the bed in the darkness. Counting sheep had never helped him fall asleep, but sometimes counting the people he had killed did. But he knew sleep wouldn't come. Not tonight.
He pulled himself up off the bed and headed for the shower. Sometimes that worked. The water could be soothing, or else it could just beat onto his head, worsening the ache that was always there after a disaster. He'd never get over the stress of something like this. He should have been able to control the day's events. But he just hadn't been good enough.
He stumbled into the kitchen and felt for the light switch. As it came on he squinted, almost closing his eyes against the glare. His headache was worse than usual after a bad one. He turned the light off and headed for the refrigerator. Even that light hurt, but he managed to find a beer and then headed for his recliner in the den. As he twisted off the top and took a deep drink he lay back, hoping he could sleep. It still wouldn't come.
Jack managed to locate the remote in the dark room and turned on the TV. He channel surfed, the programs not even registering in his conscious mind. He couldn't stop the questions that were running through his brain, one after another, but there were no answers. He'd let his people down. And it had been the worst day he'd ever had.
Again it replayed in his mind. The first call, from the White House. Wayne Palmer, the president's brother and chief of staff, calling specifically for Jack. There's a problem, he'd said. No, a crisis. That was the word he'd used. Anything that was assigned to CTU was a crisis.
It was the middle of the night, and Jack had been sound asleep when the call came. He'd struggled to wakefulness as he heard the operator announce who was calling. He was at least lucid when Palmer got on the phone.
"Jack," Wayne had said, "I'm sorry to wake you. I know it's only 4 a.m. there, but it's 7 here, and we're in full swing. Something's come up, and you're the only one who can deal with it. It's a lousy way to start the day, I know, but there's no one else."
"I'm here, Wayne," Jack managed to reply, hoping he sounded more intelligent than he thought he did. "What's going on?"
"The President's friend, his companion, is missing, Jack. Kidnapped, we think. You know how these things go, she'll be killed if we don't do something. The FBI says there's no other way, that we have to bring in you guys."
"What's her name, Wayne?"
"Sophie," came the reply. "She has long dark hair, dark eyes."
"And she's a special friend of the President's?" Jack inquired.
"Yeah," Wayne answered. "She's as close to him as anyone."
Jack swung into full gear. He hurriedly called his team and told them to report in. Many of them grumbled when they got the early-hour call, but they were pros, and they knew what they had to do.
Myerson got in first, and he made a pot of coffee. CTU ran on coffee, but what was left had been made by the night shift hours earlier, and there's nothing worse than when it's old and bitter. None of the team would drink it, and they all needed a caffeine fix, so when that first pot was finished he started another. Slowly, they came in, Chloe, whining because he'd made regular coffee instead of hazelnut, Adam, who looked like he hadn't been alone when the call came, Tony and Michelle, still tired looking, and Baker, Potts and Hoolihan.
Jack assembled them all in the conference room. "We're looking for a friend of the President's who's apparently been kidnapped." He gave her name and the description he'd gotten from Wayne. "All we know is that she disappeared during the night. The Secret Service is checking, but so far there's nothing. We've got to find her, people. The President is frantic."
The group split up and went to their respective desk areas. Jack walked around, coffee mug in hand, watching his people work. Tony had his ever-present Cubs mug, Jack hated that thing, thought it was juvenile. He looked at his own Road Runner mug. The Cubs stink, he thought. They always lose, but Road Runner's cool. He can survive safes being dropped on his head and everything.
Jack forced his mind back to the problem at hand. According to Wayne, Sophie was more than just the President's 'friend.' They had become inseparable, and she shared his bed every night. So far the press hadn't picked up on their relationship, though it was bound to come out, but the White House wanted to 'manage' the way in which the news was learned by the public. Since Palmer's divorce from Sherry people had been critical of his friends. Since none knew of Sherry's scheming, no one knew why Palmer had thrown her out. She just looked like the woman scorned, and that had hurt his popularity.
Jack took another call from Washington, this time from the head of the FBI. "Good morning, Mr. Director," he said brightly.
"Good morning, Jack," came the reply. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir," Jack said, eager now to learn what was going on. "When did she disappear?"
"Sometime during the night, Jack, we're not sure. When the President got up at six, she was gone. Not a trace."
"I think you'd better get your people right on it, Jack," he continued. "The President's pretty frantic, and he's judging the Miss Earthquake contest in LA tonight, so he's pretty nervous. We have to find Sophie. He'll have a shtfit if we don't."
Jack turned this over in his mind. Miss Earthquake? Wasn't that last month? He thought the one tonight was Miss Mudslide. Was that significant?
At Jack's direction Tony told the team to drop everything and assemble in the conference room, where Jack urgently spoke to them to bring them up to date. "We don't have anything new, people. That's why I wanted you all in here. So get back to work."
Jack headed for Tony's office, where Tony had Michelle's sweater half-off. Jack appreciated what he could see, but it wasn't much. I should have waited another minute, Jack thought. Dammit, Bauer, you know that timing's everything. Think, man, think! Look what you missed! Dammit! he thought again.
Jack stared at Michelle as she was buttoning her sweater, but he said to Tony, "Get everybody back in the conference room. I have to update them."
Once again the team filed in, and looked expectantly at Jack. "If the President falls apart the whole world'll see it. The pageant's on TV, people, live. You know what that means."
They looked at each other. They didn't know what that meant. But it wasn't a good idea to tell that to Jack Bauer. He might laugh or, more likely, throw them up against a wall and start hitting them. God, they thought. Why didn't Myerson make decaf?
Jack sent them all back to their desks, and went to his office. Dammit, he thought again. Dammit!
Kim walked in, and Jack looked at her. Her neck was covered with hickies and marks from love nibbles. Damn, Chase has quite an overbite, Jack thought. The boy needs braces.
Jack walked around his desk and took Kim in his arms. "I'm so sorry, Sweetheart," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so sorry. It'll work out, you'll see. I'll be fine."
Kim looked at him quizzically. Why was her father always telling her he'd be fine? The man never left his office anymore! His desk was covered with crossword puzzles, done in ink, methodically from the top left corner to the bottom right. What, has he got another paper cut? she worried. So soon? Kim felt her heart lurch.
"Oh, Dad, let me see it."
"What? See what, Kim?" He hurriedly checked his zipper.
"Your finger, Dad, the paper cut. I'll kiss it and make it all better."
"Thanks, Baby," Jack said, holding out his hand. "That always makes it better."
They were interrupted by an urgent call from Chloe. "Jack, I think I found something," she said. God, she likes to sound so self-important, Jack thought. He didn't understand why he hadn't killed her yet. It's the damn paperwork, he told himself. If he had to fill out all those forms he'd never get back to his puzzles. Besides, he might get another papercut trying to satisfy all those bureaucrats.
"What is it, Chloe?" Jack asked tiredly. "Did you find Sophie?"
"I think so, Jack. She left the President's suite on her own. She wasn't kidnapped."
"That's great, Chloe. Meet me in the conference room. I want you to show me what you've got."
As he entered the room Jack saw that Chloe had her blouse off, and was reaching behind her to unfasten her bra. Jack did a double-take, and said, "That's not what I meant, Chloe."
"What's wrong, Jack?" Chloe asked in her inimitable whine. "You said to show you what I've got."
"I meant data, Chloe. Intel. Information. The stuff you get from your computer. That thing you have on your desk, you know?"
"Oh, Jack," Chloe said, as she re-hooked her bra and put on her shirt. "Why didn't you say that? You people never say what you mean. How was I supposed to know?"
Jack again thought about killing her. They'll say it was justified, he thought. There won't be too much paper work. I can finish it before lunch and then get to my puzzles. His thoughts shifted. How should I do it? Should I shove a towel down her throat? That was Jack's favorite way of taking care of problems. Just last week he'd done it to the paperboy, who kept tossing the paper into the poison ivy. It was such a self-satisfying sound to hear someone digest his own innards. Yes, he thought. I like that.
To Chloe Jack said, "Do you have any worthwhile information, Chloe? Or do you just need a life?"
That got Chloe's back up. "Don't talk to me like that, Jack. I see you looking at Michelle whenever Tony's got her sweater off. Mine are better than Michelle's. See?" She'd again taken her shirt off, and had unhooked her bra before Jack could stop her. He felt faint.
Jack leaned against the table for support, stunned at the sight before him. Just at that moment Tony walked in.
After a glance at her Tony said, "Put them away, Chloe. I told you the last time that I like Michelle's better. So keep your shirt on. That's an order."
Chloe looked like she'd been slapped. Before she could dress Adam walked in. "Damn, Chloe, Michelle's are better. I told you that before."
"What are you saying, Adam, that you've seen Michelle's? How? When? Did she take her sweater off for you, or did I take it off her?" Tony was shaking so hard the coffee was sloshing out of the Cubs mug. He seemed on the verge of dropping it, but finally managed to get himself under control.
"Um, er," was Adam's reply. "I saw you with her in Tech 1, Tony, when you were working on the dirty sweater, I mean bomb, threat. I think you took it off her, but I'm not sure. I don't think she took her sweater off herself."
Tony was mollified. He hoped Michelle hadn't taken off her sweater again. It was much more fun when he did it.
Jack heard the conversation, and again thought "Dammit." Why was he never around to see Michelle's? How come everyone else had, except him? Timing, Bauer, he reminded himself. You're getting rusty.
Chloe, for a change, made things come apart. She was very upset by Jack's reaction to her's, and she was again jealous of Michelle's. She was tired of everyone saying Michelle's were better. She didn't see what was so great about them. Mine are just as good, she thought. Better, even.
A plan formed in Chloe's mind. She'd give Michelle a poison apple, just like in Snow White. That was always one of Chloe's favorite stories, and she'd made it into a computer game that she played whenever she could. In the game you could choose between poisons, or even insert a razor blade into the apple. And the best part was that Snow White in the game looked just like Michelle.
When everybody was looking at Michelle's again (she'd managed to get her sweater off without Tony's help for a change), Chloe injected strychnine into an apple. She slyly left it on Michelle's desk. She knew Michelle loved fruit. It kept her regular, she said.
Jack, who had finally gotten a full look, thought Michelle's were gorgeous. But he went through the roof when he saw that Kim, too, had taken off her shirt and bra. Dammit! he thought. Especially when Chase seemed unfazed. He'd obviously seen Kim's before.
Adam apparently hadn't yet seen Kim's, though, and he stared rapturously. Chase saw him, and slugged him. Things went downhill after that.
Tony tried to intervene, but Michelle pulled him back, against her. Tony was immediately distracted, and didn't notice when Baker tried to pull Chase off Adam by swinging a chair at him. Chase ducked, and threw a computer at Baker. Adam ducked, but the electric cord, which had come loose, landed in Adam's Wiley Coyote coffee cup, which for some reason he hadn't dropped when Chase hit him. The electrified coffee killed Adam instantly. Wiley Coyote isn't immortal, Jack thought, surprised. Jack had seen him survive so many times when Road Runner tricked him, but that was just on TV, he now realized.
Baker was the next to die. He had his hands around Adam's neck, so when the current passed through Adam it electrocuted Baker, too. Everybody backed away. They didn't want to be killed by Wiley Coyote either.
Michelle noticed the apple on her desk and disengaged herself from Tony. She sat down at her desk for her normal fruit break. I'm five minutes late, she noticed. I'll have to watch that. Otherwise I won't be regular.
She felt strange when she took her first bite of the apple, but she thought it was because it was cold with her clothes off. She took another bite, and collapsed.
Tony ran to her side and bit into the apple. He figured that was the problem, but he had to be sure. When he, too, collapsed, Jack called 911. Then Chase started CPR on Adam, but he too got an electric shock. Adam had spilled the coffee on the floor when he went down, and Chase was kneeling in it, right next to the computer cord. His body is really twitching, Chloe thought, transfixed. His as is really cute when he wiggles.
After the ambulances came and took Michelle, Tony and Chase to the hospital and the morgue people took Adam and Baker, Jack surveyed the scene before him. He again saw Chloe's, and agreed that Michelle's were better. He put the sight of Kim's out of his mind.
When the coffee had been wiped up Jack noticed that the Cubs mug had survived. Tony will be really happy about that, Jack thought. At least nothing tragic happened today. If the mug had broken everyone in CTU would have been paralyzed with grief. Except me, Jack thought. Road Runner is much, much better.
As Jack hurried through his paper work, eager to get back to his puzzles, Wayne Palmer called back. The President's companion, Sophie, his Yorkshire terrier, had returned.