CTU Los Angeles
8 years prior
The fragile sterility of CTU Medical was in danger by Jack Bauer's very presence. He sat at the end of the pristine exam table, shoulders slightly stooped and still shaking with adrenaline. His face was smudged with soot and smatterings of blood. He smelled of the field, of gunpowder and sweat, and his comm unit was still in his ear.
"Why are we doing this now, Chloe."
She frowned at him, annoyed by the necessity of giving an answer when she was so concentrated on the task at hand. "Because," she punctuated the word peevishly, "I'm supposed to be debriefing you now. This is the only time we'll have without being found out. Now hold still Jack."
The hypodermic delivery system emitted a pop-hiss as the needle pierced the skin behind Jack's right ear. He winced a little, but by the time Chloe withdrew the infusion gun, he felt little more than a warm sting.
The room they were in was at the end of a long hall, partially secluded. All eyes were off. If they were noticed, however, Chloe felt confident in her ability to explain away their little field trip.
Jack rubbed behind his ear, trying to detect the tiny subdermal tracker there. "How does it work?"
"It doesn't, not until I activate it. And then for only forty-eight hours after that. A satellite communicates with the tracker, pinging your location."
Jack looked at her steadily, considering. "What if I'm dead, will the signal still be active," he asked her evenly.
Chloe folded her arms over her chest, briefly averting her eyes. "Yes," she said uncomfortably, "It will be." They looked at each other for a long, quiet moment.
"Good," he said finally. Jack slid off the table and made it to the door before Chloe stopped him. "Hey, Jack." He turned around to face her, one hand on the doorjamb. Her features were soft, almost sad as she looked at him. "This is strictly off the books. Just in case."
He surprised her then, and smiled. "Yeah. Thanks, Chloe," he said as he walked out the door.
-0-0-0-
Just in case. And that was really all it was supposed to be…a fallback, insurance against a "what if" scenario, a scratch to satisfy an overprotective itch. And now Jack's very life might depend on it.
She'd read the hourlies-they were closing in on Jack. A traffic cam had picked up a flash of him coming out of an alley on Pell Street in Chinatown. Units were already responding and it was only a matter of time until the trail picked up in earnest. Once that happened, there was little Chloe could do to stop it.
Chloe pinched her nose in frustration. The junk code containing the algorithm needed to activate Jack's tracker had been displaced when the old servers were decommissioned, and, because of the amount of micromanaging involved with her new promotion, she had no time to find it. When she was an analyst, she could easily toggle between tasks and had often done so (often illicitly), especially for Jack. As the newly appointed director of CTU, however, few times had she been afforded the relative luxury of time at a workstation.
She cleared the office glass and a world of activity materialized beneath her. There was a certain amount of safety in the bird's-eye view, and she secretly wished she could remain in her little nest, working, rather than having to engage in the tedious people-handling often required of her on the floor.
A map of Manhattan shown on multiple screens, red blips indicating possible Jack sightings. A few hit on his actual last known location and mapped several possible exit routes. She stared at the center screen, a modicum of dread snaking its way up her spine. He'll never make it, she thought grimly, and she realized then that she couldn't do it alone.
Chloe grabbed her phone and dialed the one person she knew who could help. If he only would.
-0-0-0-
In the belly of the cargo hold, Jack could see only darkness. He lay prostrate on the floor, behind large crates of exported goods, cramped, cold, and exhausted. Beside him, in a rucksack, lay the parcel of supplies Li had packed for him.
The hold was large, substantially large, he could feel that, but the inky black was a velvet shroud so complete he could only make out the rough outline of shapes around him. He could not see, so he listened. And he waited.
The container ship, a bloated, hollow beast of steel, sat bobbing in New York Harbor waiting to disembark. Li's nephew worked on the docks, with the international freightliners, and had smuggled Jack aboard. Jack didn't even know where he was headed. He scarcely knew where he'd been.
The last day and a half flew by in a dizzying deluge of images. Lying there with no distractions, Jack was powerless against the onslaught. Memories threatened to drown him in a caustic downpour, a gallery of pain to which Jack was the only audience.
Alone in the quiet, permeating dark, he remembered.
Terri, at the zoo. A bear swatted at a frozen block of fruit, and she giggled. Her eyes, her mother's eyes, wide in the gift shop. She could have anything she wanted. He would never see her again.
And Renee, in his arms. Her breath in little hitches, warming his neck. Her haunted face through the glass at CTU. Her hands at his apartment, restless, worrying her wrist. Her eyes…deep, trusting, lost.
Li was right, Jack thought in the darkness. Li was so right. An emptied soul soon fills with memories, and those never die.
He felt the tears come then, and he let them. They took his breath, constricting his chest to the point of agony, and for all his want, there was no release in crying. Only more tears.
The cold grit of the floor anchored him, breaking his freefall with stoic tangibility. Later, with the tears still drying on his face, it pulled him into a restless sleep. He did not dream.
-0-0-0-
Chloe took a deep breath, steeling her nerves before entering the small front waiting area at CTU. He was sitting in a chair against the wall, his head down. The sleeves of his white long-sleeved button down were rolled up to mid-forearm, and his hands were on his knees. He didn't see her.
"Hi," she said, a little abashed.
Morris looked up, crossed to her, and kissed her gently. He studied her face. "Bloody hell sweetheart, you look exhausted," he said wryly.
Chloe feigned annoyance, rolling her eyes. "Good to see you too," she deadpanned.
Morris looked at her then, a little more seriously, and grabbed her hand, pulling her into a nearby chair. "You said it was urgent. What's this about?"
"I need you to find some data for me," she downplayed. "Some junk code, on the old servers." Morris's eyes widened at that, and he did nothing to hide his indignation. "The decommissioned ones? Can't you get an analyst, darling? I took our son to the sitter for this."
Chloe worked her mouth, impatient and unsure of how she should continue. "No one else knows the old servers well enough to find it in time," she said truthfully. She hesitated before continuing. "And, it's sensitive."
He stood, paced a little and smoothed a hand over his head. He looked at her, resigning himself to a very distinct (if unpleasant) possibility. "This wouldn't have anything to do with Jack Bauer would it?"
Chloe said nothing.
"For God's sake Chloe, you of all people know what that man's done today." He wiped a hand over his face, properly livid, but controlled. He took a breath. "He's a murderer-a maniac, Chloe. And I'll be damned if I help him."
Chloe stood then, leveling him with a steady gaze. She wouldn't try to rationalize Jack's actions, not to Morris, especially since she wasn't sure if she could do so for herself. "You don't have to help Jack," she said evenly, "But will you help me?"
He shook his head. "You're missing the point, Chloe. You're not Jack Bauer's errand girl any more. You're director of CTU. You have a responsibility to find him—"
"Which is what I'm trying to do!" Her voice was a tad louder than her normal cadence, and she stared challengingly at him. "Now you can help me, or you can leave. Either way, I'm going to do what I have to."
He looked into her determined face. There was a regrettable (and yes, enviable) proud loyalty there, and it was one of the things he loved about her.
When he said nothing else, she made for the door, doggedly and without further word. He sighed. "Chloe," he called after her. It took him twice before she turned, her face pinched and sullen. He rubbed his forehead briefly, looking at her. "Tell me what you need me to do," he said.
-0-0-0-