Why look who's back! It's moi! Ok guys, so like this is weird of me to update my fanfic so consistently but yeah #yolo or whatever, I've had lots of time to write.

But anyways, here is the next chapter! You'll see another character I figuratively brought back from the dead, and you'll finally understand what the heck Jack Bauer and Chloe O'Brian are involved in as well.

Like always, please please review because its awesome and yeah I love it. Expect a new chapter soon! Thanks guys! – Ellisaed

6:17 p.m. – Somewhere outside of L.A.

It wasn't until the next evening that Jim returned Jack's call.

Jack, who had been hotel hopping throughout the day, had settled down at his fifth stop for a nap, half asleep in the bed of a hotel in the middle of nowhere, when his cell rang.

"Sorry to wake you."

"I guess you could consider it payback." Jack mumbled, rubbing his face back to awareness as he sat up, "What did you get?"

"Well, the dead calls have proven nearly untraceable, but after examining them I did find out that they do submit some coded script in Russian from one line to another, some sort of secret communication system. It'll take me a while to decrypt."

"So the Russians have been calling CTU and giving them code?"

"No, here's the catch: all calls made to CTU don't contain code. And since they're all made to the same extension I'm assuming "they" were just trying to track someone who works there. It's probably their target."

The line was quiet - a reluctant kind of quiet Jack had grown to distinguish. "Jim, who is it they're locating?"

"I don't know if you know her Jack. Does Chloe O'Brian ring a bell?"

"What?"

"All calls made to CTU were to the extension of Chloe O'Brian."

Jack shook his head, scoffing to himself on disbelief. This couldn't be right. What would they possibly want with Chloe? The most stubborn, headstrong and outspoken person Jack had ever the chance to know?

An assault of mixed thoughts crashed into his head, his heart racing in sudden anxiety.

"Jim, are you sure?"

"Yeah Jack, it says it right here. Why, do you know her or something?"

"Yeah. I'll get back to you." Jack hung up and rose quickly from the bed, collecting his things around the room. He had been doing this line of work for too long to not know what was going on. He knew exactly what the Russian operatives were planning to do - but a part of him wanted to deny it.

Guilt crept in and tightened his chest, knowing that if something happened to Chloe the blame would be entirely on him. He swore under his breath, checking his rifle was in his pocket still as he ran out of the hotel room.

Jack had only one thought on his mind: locate Chloe O'Brian.

Hopefully he wouldn't be too late.

10:23 p.m. - Apartment Complex in L.A.

"Ouch."

"Hold still."

". . . Ow . . . darnnit, ow!"

"Alright, that's enough for me." Morris chuckled in defeat, rising from his place on the rug at Chloe's feet. "I'm only trying to help you, not cause you mortal pain!"

He strolled into the kitchen and retreated to the sink, finishing the dishes from their late dinner. Chloe rolled her eyes at him.

"Fine. I'll rub my own feet then. And I won't try to kill them." Chloe twisted her legs up onto the couch with her snuggled under her favourite afghan. She rubbed gently at her swollen and sore soles, ignoring her husbands antics. He was such a drama queen.

The television was the only light in the room besides for a few dim candles. Chloe's eyes always ached after a long day at work and too much light gave her a migraine. Though her husband was apparently half-blind and stubbed his toes everywhere he went, the darkness was nice. She watched the local news like usual, half listening to some politician talking about some middle-eastern crisis or something. Nothing particularity gripping like a terrorist attack. Unfortunately.

Chloe winced to herself, pressing at a knot tender on her foot; she heard Morris laugh from across the room. "What?"

"Nothing." He smiled down at the sink, shaking his head, "How's your tea?"

"Good." She replied, though she hadn't yet taken a sip. Her nausea would be just about gone by this time of day, and she tried ginger tea to hopefully soothe it for the morning to come.

"Good. Maybe it'll work this time."

"The doctor said it's a natural solution. Not like I have any other options." Chloe whispered in sulk to herself.

"Don't worry love, you'll only have to slave away at work for a few weeks longer."

"Yeah. Whoopee." Chloe slumped lower into the couch with a long sigh. It wasn't like her to be so dramatic but under the circumstances she hadn't a care.

"You know what Buchanan said: maternity leave isn't optional," Morris' tone was that of a parent to their child, "And anyways, it's not like it's all at once. Your hours will regress until you're closer to term, and then you'll have a nice break until the baby comes."

"It's not like I'm trying to break a alcohol addiction Morris," Chloe moaned from under her blanket.

"Oh, it isn't? I'd beg to differ."

Chloe sat up and threw a pillow in his direction. Morris ducked, plate and rag in hand, with a shout of protest. The expression on his face was enough to make Chloe burst out laughing, but she was too distressed at the moment.

"I can't not work. I'll die, Morris. I'll die of boredom."

"And you say I'm the dramatic one - "

"I'm serious!" Chloe cried, "Our apartment is so boring!"

"Paint, redecorate." Morris suggested cheerfully, continuing his dishwashing, "I always thought the place needed some feng shui."

Chloe ignored him, wishing she had another pillow to throw. Their apartment was boring. Neither her nor Morris were the creative type, so it was pretty bland looking. They didn't listen to music beside for the disgusting English 80's bands Morris insisted were "classics." They didn't watch movies, and only the news on TV. What was she supposed to do besides cook and clean?

Chloe had read that some expecting mothers knitted or cross-stitched or played music to the little one in their womb in those agonizing months before birth - all those options sounded stupid to her. Chloe had already decided. She was going to die on maternity leave.

Chloe looked away from the TV, hearing Morris rummaging around in the refrigerator. "Can you get me some milk, Morris?"

A grunt of reply was heard. Chloe wasn't sure to take that as a yes or no or not, but before she could ask the television caught her attention suddenly. The screen was lit up red and in bold white letters the words "EMERGENCY BROADCAST" flashed.

"This is an emergency broadcast: please stay inside your homes and away from doors and windows. Further information will be broadcasted as soon as possible. This is an emergency broadcast . . ."

Chloe made a face, feeling her heart rate jump a bit. She took a deep breath to calm herself, knowing it was not good for her baby. Her eyes shot to her husband who had snuck up behind her and was staring at the screen.

They shared an all-knowing look.

"Call CTU right now."

"Already on it dear."

"Hurry." Chloe whispered urgently, throwing the blanket off of her lap and racing to their bedroom. She opened her dresser, rummaging through madly for suitable clothing - or really, for anything. Finding a navy T-shirt, Chloe ripped off her pajama top whilst attempting to overhear Morris' conversation on the telephone.

". . . and have we any good intel? . . . Hm, okay, okay . . . for Christ's sake, slow down Edgar! I can't understand a word you're saying!"

Chloe shook her head, imagining Edgar sweating in anxiety and at the end of his rope in worry. Chloe was Edgar's friend. She knew him. She trusted him. And she knew if he was speaking that quickly, something was wrong. Really wrong.

Chloe buttoned her pants, which felt rather tight at the waist but she hadn't the time to fuss, before combing her fingers through her hair and running back to the kitchen. Morris was slipping into his leather coat, still listening to the telephone.

"Alright, alright . . . okay, thank you Edgar. Be there in a few."

"So?" Chloe prodded, grabbing her shoes and wrenching them on her feet, "What's wrong?"

Morris held his hands up, smiling a bit, "Slow down hun, it's just a local emergency, not a huge fix."

"By 'not a huge fix', do you mean not nuclear bomb huge or not terrorist hideout huge?"

"There's just some civil unrest down at that mosque on Third Street, the protest that CTU's been waiting for. Law enforcement's almost got it contained, and CTU was only informed because of an alleged terrorist who's apparently behind the revolt."

"That sounds pretty important to me." Chloe remarked, moving to the closet to get her jacket, "Seeing that we've been tracking this 'suspected' revolt for two weeks."

"Hence the words 'alleged terrorist'." Morris reasoned, "We have no clue this is even the guy, or what the hell this even means. It could be a dud for all we know."

Chloe shrugged, "Edgar sounded pretty nervous - "

"Yeah and that's new - stop for a minute and listen, love," Morris physically held his wife by her shoulders, catching her wide eyes with his. Chloe was almost startled, wanting to leave already, but she waited.

He spoke calmly, "It's not huge enough for you to need to come into work with me."

Chloe did a double take. The look in Morris' eyes told her he was serious. She writhed from his grip and folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at him in skepticism.

"Don't be stupid Morris. I'm a head analyst at CTU. If there's a crisis, they'll need all the help they can get, especially since I'm one of the best they have."

The hesitation was momentary but noticeable. Morris scratched his chin, replying slowly. "Buchanan told Edgar . . . that they don't need you."

"Don't need me?"

"Not because they don't want you, but - "

"Because of my condition." Chloe said.

The words hung stalely in the air. Her condition had seemed to become the start and end result in every argument lately.

". . . just stay here, catch some winks, relax." Morris suggested, one of his hands already resting on the doorknob, "Do whatever pregnant women do."

Morris held out his palm, waiting for the keys dangling in Chloe's hand.

Morris sighed, seeing his mistake. He moved toward her, "God, that was wrong to say - I'm sorry -"

Chloe backed away from him, "Oh really, and that makes the situation all better!"

Morris stopped pursuing her. He nodded, "Yes. I'm sorry. I'll talk to Buchanan and - "

"Don't bother Morris. He'll just insist I'm some sort of fragile flower who's incapable of doing anything!" Chloe shouted. "Just like you do!"

"What do you mean - "

"You call me every hour I'm away from home, you constantly shadow me at work, you're always telling me to watch my weight and not eat this and to sleep and calm down and I'm sick of it!"

Morris moved to her again, "I only want to keep both of you safe -"

"I can do that on my own! I don't need you to tell me what to do anymore!" Chloe cried, pushing her husband away as he tried to console her, his hands taking her wrists firmly. "I don't need your stupid advice or your - your laziness and all your annoying habits - "

Morris returned the outburst with a stern tone of his own, "That's enough, Chloe. Stop this. You'll harm yourself."

"No! I'm sick of this!" Chloe bit back, finishing between gritted teeth,"I don't need any of this . . . I don't need you!"

The wide-eyed expression on Morris' face was a mix of shock and hurt. Chloe felt no remorse, looking into those eyes that could calm her. They only stirred her up more. She tore from his grip and pushed herself away, wiping her eyes angrily.

Morris shrugged, backing towards the door again. Those blue eyes of his were glossy. "Alright. I won't. I'll let you do it on your own."

He stooped down and snatched up the keys, stopping to turn to her once more.

"And don't call me."

The door slammed.

Chloe backed up slowly, one hand finding her mouth and covering a quiet sob. She hit the couch and sat down heavily, burying her face in her hands.

2:37 a.m. – Apartment Complex in L.A.

Beep beep-beedoop . . . beep beep-beedoop . . .

Chloe groaned at the noise of her cellular, as if the sound of her displeasure would will it away. It had taken her darn long enough to simply fall asleep, and she surewasn't in the mood for this - if CTU needed her after all, then too bad. They missed their chance. She buried her head under her pillow and pulled the covers over her -

Beep beep-beedoop -

"Argh!" Chloe shouted, angrily flicking on her side table lamp. She rubbed her eyes at the harsh light, her free hand fumbling for her cell phone and quickly flipping it to her ear.

"O'Brian." Chloe whispered, closing her eyes. She figured it wasn't Morris trying to apologize; heck, she wouldn't be surprised if he didn't come back home in the morning. But Chloe hoped it was him.

The line was quiet though. She waited, yawning, but nothing happened. Just like earlier that day, no one replied.

Chloe sighed, "Hello? Is someone there?"

The opposite end seemed to breathe, and she could almost feel the other person. After years of answering phone calls, she had grown to tell an empty line from a live one. It had happened again - someone calling her, with no answer. Chloe grew nervous suddenly; who was this stalker? For all she knew, it could be anyone. Maybe someone was tapping into her location -

"Whoever you are you'd better say something right now, before I hang up!" Chloe threatened.

Her plea was answered.

"Wait . . . Chloe, it's me."

A gasp found her, and a fierce ebb of nausea. Chloe swallowed sourness, clutching the phone tightly, trying to hold on to that voice on the other side. She knew that voice. She closed her eyes. She didn't want to let it go.

". . . Chloe?"

"Jack?" Chloe asked timidly, dryly.

"Yeah Chloe, it's me."

That was all Chloe needed, just those few words. A hand flew to her mouth. Her body trembled, frightened and surprised. She couldn't sit still. Jack, for crying out loud Jack Bauer was calling her again. Finally. He was safe. He was alive.

"Chloe? You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine - why are you calling me?" Chloe ran a hand through her loose hair, "Because I know you never wanted to speak with me again, that was obvious, but - "

"That isn't true." Jack's voice, though it had a deep rough edge to it Chloe wasn't used to, sounded hurt. "We don't have time for this now. Where are you?"

"In bed, in my apartment. It's 2:00 a.m. Jack - "

"Turn your lights off."

Chloe didn't hesitate, hearing that telltale urgency in his tone, but was confused, "Jack, what's going on?"

"Now get up and look out your window."

Chloe swung her sore feet out of bed, barely stopping to think how crazy this was right now. She tiptoed across the cold floor and obeyed. "What?"

"Do you see anything happening in or on the buildings around you?"

Chloe bit her lip, drowsy eyes scanning up and down the skyscrapers that neighboured the little apartment complex. Most were fairly taller than where she was, but she had enough light just from the curtained windows scaling the sides of the buildings. Most were dim lights of sleeping people, but there was one brighter one on a building in the distance. The window was wide but covered with sheer drapes that ruffled, shadows moving that were far too vague to make out.

"There's a hotel a few blocks away, I can see a window with people inside."

"How many?"

"I don't know, it's too far away." Chloe strained, watching the suspicious spot closely, "Four, five maybe? It looks close to the eighth floor or so."

Chloe folded her free arm around her midsection, feeling her still raging heartbeat. Jack's silence unnerved her a bit, but she trusted him. Even then, she trusted him.

"Jack." She whispered, "What's wrong?"

"Listen Chloe . . . the people you see . . . they're coming after you."

Chloe's eyes were suddenly fastened to the window in the distance. A sense washed over her in the silence, of fierce maternal protection. The feeling that struck her wasn't exactly fearful, but tears welled in her eyes. She knew that if Jack said it, it was true.

"Why - . . . why me?"

The noises on the other end of the phone picked up, the sound of voices and shuffling of feet. Jack's voice had dimmed, "It's a long story Chloe. They don't want you, they want me."

"Why do they want you?"

"Chloe . . . " Jack seemed to sigh quietly from his end, pausing before he began, "Alright . . . listen very carefully. The terrorist attack that happened today, at the mosque - "

"Yes, the one CTU is all over - "

"It was a ploy, a decoy. The real crisis, the real emergency, is that whoever is behind this is looking for me - for us - and they plan on stopping nowhere to do so."

Chloe gritted her teeth, "What do you mean Jack?"

"I mean . . . there's a group of people right now who are will-bent on breaking into CTU. They've almost done so. By dawn they'll have all the systems down, and it's too late to stop it."

"No one can shut down CTU that fast," Chloe scoffed, "We're triple malware protected and have three back up servers, not to mention emergency lines direct from Division - "

"Chloe, that isn't the point. These people have already bypassed CTU's security. They've gotten enough information to find your general location and bring a team of operatives to get you."

Chloe bit her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, but ignored it. CTU should have suspected this! It was a textbook sleight of hand move, one so simple even the most childish literature books wouldn't use it. But that was the brilliance of it, so predictable it was a surprise.

Chloe shook her head, "So they wanted information about me? What did I do?"

"They don't want you, they want me. You are the bait, and I'm the target."

"And they're gonna use me to find you?" Chloe finished, almost angrily.

"They were."

The curtains of a window a few floors above the one that she was watching ruffled and parted just slightly, enough to see a dark figure there. Chloe watched the figure raise a hand casually in greeting, in assurance, and she knew. It was Jack.

"Little do they know, I'm right under their noses."

She smiled, "So you're going to call off the abduction. Right?"

The pause unnerved her, and Chloe gripped her cell phone harder. She watched the figure turn his head away for a moment, anxious. She knew what that meant.

"Jack. I'll call CTU and - "

"No. The only way this can work is if we play along."

"Play along? This isn't game Jack - my life is at stake here!"

"I won't let anything happen to you -"

"You don't know that. That's what they tell the newbies in field ops and who's the one giving condolences at their funerals?"

"You aren't a newbie, you're the best person to handle this job. I'll be in right after the grab. I promise Chloe, I won't let anything happen to you."

"That's what you said to them."

"Who?"

"Teri and Audrey."

The comment allowed for a lengthy silence between them. Chloe watched Jack, a hand rising to the glass of the window for support. She knew the words were harsh but they were true. Chloe did not want to suffer the same fate.

And even more so, she had another person to care for; Chloe sub-consciously rested a hand on her mid-section as the thought came to her:

Jack didn't know she was pregnant.

"Chloe . . ." His voice came over the phone again, "I give you my word. We can talk about that later, right now I need you to focus, ok?"

Chloe nodded, her mind now less concerned of her own safety and more about her baby. "Fine. Jack?"

"Yes?"

". . . I didn't get to tell you . . . "

"What Chloe?"

The urgent impatience in Jack's tone signaled to Chloe he wasn't in the mood for the news. She clenched her fist in frustration. ". . . I'm glad you're back, even though it's only because people are trying to kill you and all. But yeah."

Chloe tore her eyes away from the silhouette, cursing to herself. She would just have to tell him, somehow, later, and hope for now that she would be fine. She trusted Jack.

Jack seemed to smile from his end of the phone. "Go back to bed. The hit should happen in ten minutes. What's your room number?"

"1127."

"I'll be right there."

"Okay. Be careful."

"I will."

Chloe watched the window until Jack's figure turned away, and she slipped back into bed. Her heart raced and she felt dizzy, from anxiety and surprise and her stupid morning sickness all at once.

Was this all a dream? Maybe I should call Morris . . . just in case, so that if something does happen he won't go ballistic. Chloe flipped her phone back open, dialing her husband's number and waiting.

She figured she was crazy. What kind of person just lets someone kidnap them? Why did she still trust him? How did she even know Jack wasn't lying? Maybe he had been put up to it. Maybe he wasn't going to rescue her, maybe she wasn't going to be alright -

"This is Morris."

"Hi, it's just me - "

"Chloe . . . I told you not to call me." Morris sounded stressed and certainly not in the mood, "I'm in the middle of something, I have to go - "

Chloe didn't even need to explain, for she was jolted upright by a crash that she assumed was her door being kicked down.

"Chloe?! What was that?"

Chloe knew she didn't have a choice but to hang up as she slipped under her covers to hide, whispering, "I'm going to be fine - " mere seconds before she was found.

3:03 a.m. – CTU L.A.

Although he was known to be one of the most dedicated and efficient computer analysts at CTU, for some reason that night Edgar Stiles was fighting to keep his attention where it needed to be. Some leeway could be granted for his distraction, for it was 3 a.m. and he had been working for over fifteen hours. Also, the crisis they had been awaiting finally was unfolding before them, which put a little more than the regular workload and stress on everyone at CTU. Even so, Edgar could normally function through those obstacles; he knew the reason why he couldn't concentrate.

From his place around the table in the situation room, Edgar shifted his gaze to Morris O'Brian's station across the bullpen. Morris was pacing the floor there, grabbing his jacket and looking around most likely for his keys silently, but only a few minutes ago he had been distressingly shouting his wife's name into his cell phone. It didn't make him feel very good. If Chloe were there, sitting beside him like she usually did, she would just whisper to him to get back to work, which was true, but he couldn't seem to focus hard enough. He hoped she was alright.

Edgar fought his eyes forward again, to Mr. Buchanan who stood before the table, addressing Milo, Nadia and him. The screens behind him displayed the surveillance of the Third Street Mosque and the news reports that were covering the story.

". . . we have our operatives on site and are currently still in the process of detaining the protestors. Curtis, do you copy? Give us an update on your situation." Bill pressed the speaker button on the phone in the centre of the table, and Curtis' voice came through.

"My team's determined that the protesters have barricaded the mosque from the inside, and we are currently taking measures to safely enter the building by force."

"No visuals on our suspect?" Milo asked, leaning back in his chair a bit and twiddling with his pen. Edgar let his eyes drift again, but this time when he looked Morris was gone.

"Negative," Curtis replied, sounding annoyed, "If he were here, we would have found him already. Unless he escaped before the authorities and CTU got here, he was never here in the first place. Any luck on the facial recognition software?"

The room was quiet for a moment, but Edgar's eyes still searched the floor of CTU curiously. Bill waited a moment, pressing the must button on the phone before strolling over and leaning his palms on the table across from Edgar.

"Edgar?" He said, and the man blinked only, lost somewhere in thought; Bill repeated, "Edgar, are you okay?"

Edgar felt someone nudge his shoulder, and he looked over to Milo, to Nadia and to Bill, the three gazes looking quizzically back at him. "Yes?" he replied, trying to not sound embarrassed.

"Are you alright?" Bill asked again, "You seem distracted."

Edgar hesitated, biting his lip. He supposed he could act like nothing was wrong, it wasn't any of his business anyway . . .

"Something's wrong with Chloe." He blurted, "I just heard Morris talking to her, and now I can't see him anywhere."

Bill wrinkled his brows, and Milo took the hint and stood up, "I'll go see if I can find him."

"He's not here, I saw him grab his keys!"

"Maybe Chloe just needed him back at their place Edgar." Nadia soothed, "No need to worry - "

"No, something's wrong. We should call Morris." Edgar insisted. Bill seemed to test his gaze, as if searching to see if Edgar was genuinely serious about his claim.

"Is everything alright?" Curtis asked over the speaker. Bill's eyes left Edgar's, and he switched the mute button off again.

"We're going to have to get back to you on that Curtis; keep up your efforts on entering the mosque." As he ended the call, Milo opened the door to the Situation Room and stuck his head in. His worried eyes told all, "No sign of him. His car is gone."

Edgar knew it was not an appropriate time for an "I-told-you-so", and he simply was too worried to even care. He simply watched Bill as he typed Morris' cell number into the phone, waiting as it rang.

'I'll try calling Chloe," Milo said, crossing his arms as he tucked his cell between his ear and shoulder, "Why would Morris just leave without telling us? He knows we're in the middle of a situation, and you'd think if it was an emergency - "

"Morris is stubborn, you know that." Nadia interrupted, "This doesn't surprise me at all."

The sound of ringing was all that filled the room for a moment. Mr. Buchanan shook his head, ending the call when there was no sign of reply, "Nothing. Milo?"

Milo shrugged, "Nope. What the heck is going on?"

"You tell me." Bill ran a hand over his greyed hair, looking to Edgar again, "See if you can trace Morris' cell and get a location on him. Nadia, keep trying his and Chloe's cells. Milo, have another tact team assembled and ready to move in on a location if we get one. We will consider this a code six operation and proceed with the according protocol."

The three silently obeyed their orders, though on the inside Edgar was restless and shaky. A code six operation was only called in rare circumstances, which did nothing to ease the unease inside him.

Chloe was his best friend. He did not know what he would do if she was not alright.