AN: So for those of you up with canon you should now realize this fic is very, very, very AU. I hope you can disregard that and keep reading. Thank you for the kind words. Please keep feeding me! Especially those people who added me to their alerts and haven't left a comment… Five bucks to the person who gets the Buffy reference (and I mean, specifically gets it).
Part 3
"We know you are resilient Mr. Bauer. Maybe more so than most. But what you do not understand is that my people have had thousands of years longer than yours to improve on our interrogation techniques. Have you heard of the Ling Ci? We call it the Death of a Thousand Cuts…"
A phone is ringing. You wonder whose it is because the Chinese never take calls in front of you. You instinctively pull your arms towards your body and are surprised when they hit your chest forcefully, unbound. You open your eyes slowly and wonder for a moment where they've taken you.
Slowly, the fog clears and you realize you're in bed in the hotel room you've been in the last few weeks here in New York. Your phone is still ringing. The clock reads 11:42 pm. It feels like you've been asleep much longer.
"Bauer," you rasp.
"Jack, it's Chloe."
"What is it, Chloe?" you ask. Something isn't right. You hear her gulp over the line.
"It's Renee, Jack," she says worriedly. "She escaped from the hospital and is on the run."
You sit up quickly and rub the sleep out of your eyes. "She's trying to find Laitanan."
"Oh. That's not good."
"No, it's not." You sit up and turn on the light, scanning the room for your pants. "So NYPD is looking for her?"
"Of course, but you know she's too good to get caught by them. CTU's been notified, but they won't look into it until morning when NYPD turns up nothing. I can probably… help you out."
"What are you saying, Chloe?"
"I can give you a head start. You're going to be called in for questioning soon enough. I can tell Hastings you're going to find her personally, but I might be lying if I tell him you'll take her back to the hospital."
You pause for a moment and consider. It was bad enough you let them lock her up once, but you don't know if you could bear to do it again, to see the betrayal in her eyes. You know there's nothing the doctors can do for her, not really. You feel for the umpteenth time an intense feeling of protectiveness.
"Yeah," you say finally. "You would be. How long can you get me?"
"Three hours, maybe four." For once it's plenty of time. You already have a good idea of where's she's headed.
"Alright, thank you Chloe. I'll take care of it." You don't feel as assured as you sound.
"Let me know if you need anything, Jack," she says. You hang up and make a mental note to buy her flowers or something. You throw on the nearest shirt and grab your keys, wallet, and gun out of the bedside table. You sure as hell hope you won't need to use it.
Luckily the roads are relatively clear so you can speed wildly, disregarding the angry honks from other vehicles. You wonder how Renee will get there, what she'll do, if she even has a weapon. It's improbable Laitanan will have set up shop in the same building twice, especially since CTU gave it a once over after the bust. But he could still be around, waiting, watching. As much as you hate the circumstances, you understand Renee's desire for vengeance. But the odds are overwhelmingly against her. She is one person against an entire pissed off crime syndicate. She knows this as well, and you are forced to conclude that she doesn't intend to get out alive.
There is no evidence of her as you pull up to the old warehouse. You park your car in the back alley and scan for an easy way in. The barbed wire on the top of the chain linked fence is detached from the brick wall in one corner. You look left and right to make sure no one is around and take a running leap at the fence and land messily on the other side. There is a large rip in the sleeve of your leather jacket, but you're unharmed. You creep around to the side and find a door open just a crack so you peek in, but it's pitch dark. You cock your gun and slowly push the door open.
The hallway is long and dark. The air is stagnant and all you can hear are your own footsteps and shallow breath.
A light flicks on ahead of you from a room to the left. You raise your weapon and press your back against the wall, creeping up towards the doorway. The sound of footsteps and the crinkle of paper. You peer around the corner.
The room is small, decrepit. There is a couch against one wall and a desk with a couple of dusty bottles of scotch and vodka.
And her, standing beside the desk, a note clutched in one hand. The single flickering halogen illuminates her glassy eyes and the tears on her hollow cheeks. She looks ethereal, beautiful in a way only sadness can be, like a ghost.
You lower your gun. "Renee," you say softly, so as not to startle her, but you do anyway.
"What are you doing here?" her voice cracks as she hastily wipes her face.
"Renee, let me help you," you plead, walking towards her. She backs up like an animal caught in a corner. "We'll do it your way, I promise." She just stares at you, doe eyed. "Please Renee. I know what it's like. I've been there. I know what it's like to harbour that kind of hate." You realize you haven't blinked in a while, lost in your own memories. "You have to finish it, or it'll eat away at you forever."
"He's not here," she says finally, holding up the note. "He's in St. Petersburg."
"He wants you to go to him," you state matter-of-factly.
"I thought tonight was it," she says, crumpling up the note in her hand. "I thought I was going to die tonight, Jack, and all I felt was relief." Hysteria rises in her voice.
You wonder if she ever loved him. "Shh. Chloe will get us a flight out first thing in the morning, ok?"
She nods. "I don't have anywhere to go," she says quietly, suddenly looking scared.
"You'll stay with me. We're in this together, remember?" You stretch out a hand.
She looks at it for a second and finally takes it. She doesn't let go as you walk back out of the building until you boost her back over the fence.
"They'll be looking for me," she says once you're both buckled up in the car.
"Yeah. Chloe will watch out for us. We can't go back to my hotel. Mind if we find something off the interstate for the night?"
She shrugs. "Sure."
The rest of the trip is spent in silence until finally you pull up to a seedy looking motel. You pull your messenger back out of the trunk and you both walk into the reception area. There is a moose head tacked up about the fireplace and Christmas lights strung along the mantle even though it's barely October. The lady at the desk is reading a dog-eared paperback. She looks up as you approach her.
"'Can I do for ya?" she asks, popping her gum.
"We'll take two rooms please," you reply. The woman looks from Renee to you and raises an eyebrow.
"One room's fine," Renee says quietly beside you.
You turn to look at her for a split second but she's staring resolutely out the window. You wonder if just maybe she doesn't want to be alone tonight. Truthfully, neither do you. "Ok," you reply, without further comment. "One room, then."
The woman smiles knowingly. "How will you be paying for that?" You pull out a credit card and a driver's licence bearing the name Randy Giles (an old cover) just in case. When the transaction's gone through the woman points to a door to her right. "Your room is out there and up the stairs. And there's a diner next door case you want anything to eat."
"Thank you," you say, and take the room key. Renee follows you wordlessly.
The room is shabby, but clean. There are two double beds and a small television. "This ok?" You ask her.
"It's fine, Jack," she says, sitting down on the bed.
"I'm going to get us something to eat. What can I get you? And nothing is not an appropriate answer."
One corner of her mouth turns up almost imperceptibly. She considers for a moment, then, "Onion rings."
You raise an eyebrow, but say, "You got it."
"I'm gonna get cleaned up, ok?"
"Yeah, I'll be right back."
At the diner you get her onion rings and a couple of burgers and beers for good measure. As you're waiting for your order you flip open your phone and dial Chloe.
"O'Brian," she responds, groggily. You check your watch and realize it's almost three in the morning.
"Chloe, it's Jack."
"Jack! Did you find her?"
"Yeah, we're at a motel off the interstate. Listen, I need you to get us the next flight out to St. Petersburg."
"St. Petersburg?" you can almost see her face scrunch up.
"Laitanan is there. Renee wants to go after him."
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Jack?"
"Can you just get me that flight, Chloe?"
She huffs over the line. "Yeah, just a second," she presumably gets up to get her laptop. "The earliest flight leaves at noon. Is that ok?"
"That's fine. Use my Giles alias. And can you make up a passport for Renee?"
"Sure. I'll meet you at the airport with it."
"Thanks Chloe, I appreciate it." You smile and make a mental note to send Chloe some flowers sometime.
"I know," she says. "See you in the morning." She hangs up on you. The waitress comes out with your order, neatly packed in takeout bags. You thank her and tip generously.
You hurry back and knock in case she is isn't decent. She doesn't answer. Worry wells up in your chest. You knock, louder this time. Nothing. Your mind cycles through a dozen or so terrible things that could have happened to her. You never should have left her alone in the first place.
You yank your key out of your pocket and let yourself in. "Renee?" you call again, voice escalating. The bathroom door is closed. You rush over and start to pound on it and desperately hope she isn't sitting in the bathtub, life pouring out of her wrists.
Abruptly the door opens. "What the hell Jack?" she yells. She's standing in front of you, only in a towel, looking angry.
"Oh. I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I brought dinner," you say sheepishly, and hold up the bag. A peace offering in the form of onion rings.
She rolls her eyes. "Give me a minute."
"Yeah, sorry," you say to the closed door.
There's no table in the room to eat at so you take a towel and lay the food out on the bed. She comes out a few minutes later wearing the same scrub pants and pajama top she had on earlier. "I look ridiculous," she says, disgruntled.
You can't help but smile. "We'll get you something new before we go to the airport."
She nods. "Picnic?"
"I hope you're not a vegetarian, 'cause I brought cheeseburgers."
"Yeah right," she grumbles, swiping one and promptly unwrapping it. "Thanks. The crap they fed me in the hospital was unbelievable."
"Yeah, I remember." The conversation isn't exactly ample, but it's the most words you've heard Renee string together lately.
You're surprised by how good it feels. How natural. Renee is undeniably beautiful. She's smart and strong and exactly the kind of person you would be attracted to if it weren't for… everything. The impossible set of circumstances that is your life. Who you are. You decided a long time ago that there simply wasn't a place in your life for women. You have Kim and the baby and that's all the family you need.
You always ignore the tiny voice inside your head that asks if maybe it's not.
Once she's polished off both her burger and onion rings you tidy up the bed. You only manage to leave one mustard stain on the comforter. "Ready to turn in?" you ask.
"Yeah," she replies. "You get the bed with the mustard stain."
You chuckle. "Fine by me."
You both crawl into your respective beds. "Goodnight," you say. She doesn't respond, and you quickly drift off, exhausted.
-----
Later you are woken by a loud, strangled gasp coming from Renee's bed. You know what happened because you were dreaming too.
"Renee," you rasp into the dark.
Vaguely you see her get out of bed. At some point in the night she's managed to kick off her scrub pants and you can see the outline of her legs, illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the blinds.
She pads over and gets into your bed, back to you, completely silent. Tentatively you skim a hand over her arm and pull her gently into your chest.
Mustard stain and all.