To kick off the lunch conversation, Kim talks about her work. She's a secretary in a publishing firm – not hard work for someone who used to be a systems analyst at CTU, but she seems to like it. I'm half tempted to ask her if they're hiring, but I don't really feel like pointing out that I'm still unemployed.
Little Teri makes a volcano out of her mushy beans. I smile to myself…I used to play with my food like that, when I was little. My mother would tell me that if I didn't eat my potato volcano, it'd explode lava all over the kitchen and make her very unhappy. And then of course I'd leave it on my plate longer, wanting to see if it would really happen. My dad…my dad had to tell me it wouldn't happen before I'd reluctantly scarf down the mashed potatoes.
"What's so funny?" Jack asks.
I look up and the two other adults in the room are staring at me. Whoops. Walked a little too long down memory lane, there. "Nothing, just remembering when I was her age," I say, nodding at Teri.
"Teri, don't play with your food," Kim says, automatically shifting gears from "daughter" to "mother." Teri pouts, and I almost feel sorry that I've inadvertently ratted her out.
"I seem to recall telling you the same thing many times," Jack says.
"Shush," Kim mutters pointedly.
Jack chuckles and I take a bite of the burrito to hide my smile.
"So, Dad," Kim says, "you have a birthday coming up next month."
Her comment, made to steer the conversation away from her own habits as a toddler, makes Jack groan. "Do I?" he says. "I hadn't noticed." Kim's right, I realize. June 18.
"Your birthday's next month?" Teri says to her grandpa.
"That's right," Jack says.
"How old are you gonna be?"
"How old do you think I am now?" he asks her.
She thinks about it for a moment, her tiny brow furrowing in the cutest way. "Forty-three and a half," she declares.
Jack laughs, the sound echoed by chuckles from Kim and I. "That's my girl," he says, patting her hair.
"Did I get it right?" the girl asks, excited.
"Not really, sweetheart, but you were close. I'm fifty-two."
"So what are we doing to celebrate your birthday, Jack?" I say.
"Nothing," he says, his tone serious. "I'm going to have a quiet day."
I can fill in the giant blanks he left with that statement: A quiet day with no terrorists, no bombs, no targeted IRK presidents, no deadly viruses, no killers, kidnappers, or politically correct heads of CTU.
"That doesn't sound like fun," Teri says, wrinkling her nose.
"Yeah, Dad, that doesn't sound like fun," Kim chimes in, smirking. She's loving this way too much.
"Kim, no funny business," Jack says, his eyebrows raised pointedly. His head swings to look at me. "Renee, I'm counting on you to be my defense against surprise parties."
"And I'm counting on you to help plan the surprise party," Kim says.
I'm glad that both father and daughter are grinning devilishly. Grinning devilishly I can deal with – it means that they don't really expect me to take their side, that they're just joking around. So I'm completely comfortable saying, "Sorry Kim, I'm with Jack on this one."
"Aw, rats!" Kim says. She looks at her daughter. "Teri, it looks like you and I are on our own. But they'll never see us coming!" She gives Teri a conspiring grin, and the girl giggles and gives a small cheer of agreement.
Jack turns his devilish grin on me, and I have to grin myself. He's so attractive when he's smiling or grinning, no matter what adjective you attach to it. It still amazes me, every time he smiles – that he still can smile. I remember him smiling only once on the day I met him – right after we found the last canister and stopped it from going off in the subway, with the help of Jibraan. It was simple in appearance, but conveyed a wealth of emotion – relief, victory, happiness…
I want to keep putting smiles on his face. Life is more beautiful, less painful, when you have a genuine reason to smile. He's my reason, still, despite anything and everything he's done to me. I want to be his reason, too.
Jack and I clean up the dishes and Kim takes Teri into the living room. When I'm done loading the last dish into the dishwasher, I turn and find Kim staring at the mantle in the living room, motionless. Jack and I exchange a look, and then walk over to join her.
"Kim?" Jack asks cautiously.
"Whose idea was this?" she asks.
I take a good look at the mantle. A few more pictures have found their way onto it in the last couple of days – a portrait of Kim and her family, and two pictures of little Teri. The framed one I saw back in Jack's old New York apartment is sitting right next to the framed picture of her grandmother, and I know it's the picture of elder Teri that has Kim shocked.
"Renee's," he says.
"Is that okay, Kim?" I ask. I have no idea why she'd object to a picture of her mother in our apartment, but her opinion honestly doesn't matter to me so much that I'd take it down. I'd take it down if it bothered Jack, but it doesn't.
"Okay?" she repeats. "It's the nicest thing I've never known any girlfriend of Dad's to do."
Jack's expression goes half a shade darker – it wouldn't be noticeable to a stranger, but I've gotten quite well at reading him. The only real past girlfriend of his that I know of is Audrey. What is Kim trying to say about her?
But the moment passes, and Jack's face smoothes into an unreadable expression. Just in time, too, as Kim turns and gives me a huge hug.
"Thank you," Kim whispers.
Behind me, Teri says, "What's happening, Grandpa?"
"Kim was looking at a picture of your Grandma, sweetie," Jack says.
"Amma?" Teri asks, confused.
Kim lets me go and picks up her daughter. "No, cutie, Amma is your daddy's mom," she says. She brings Teri up to the mantle. "This is my mom, your other Grandma."
Teri touches the glass of the frame with her little hand. "She's pretty," Kim says. "When will I meet her?"
I don't think I've ever felt sadder for that little girl. Except maybe when she was held hostage by Natalia Pavel and her bloodthirsty, lesbian sidekick.
"Sweetie, we talked about this," Kim says gently. "Grandma Bauer can't come because she's in Heaven, remember?"
"I remember," the girl says sadly.
I look over at Jack, who has a hint of a tear in the corner of his eye.
Kim and Teri left shortly thereafter, and I take Jack's hand in my own. "Are you okay?" I ask softly.
"Yeah," he says.
"Are you sure?"
He smiles at me, with a sad expression on his face. "I'm sure. I just… Remember a few days ago, when Kim and I went out for lunch together?"
"Yes."
"It was the anniversary…"
"I thought she died in March 2004," I say.
"She did. We…we married in May 1985."
"Oh…" This is where I say something like "I'm sorry," but that seems so trite…
"I'm sorry," he says, looking away before meeting my eyes again.
"Jack, you don't have to apologize," I say. "She was an important part of your life. I'd have a serious personality problem if it bothered me that you remembered her on your anniversary." It would take a real bitch to begrudge someone a meal in remembrance of their late spouse. I guess there are some women insecure enough to do it, but I'm not one of them.
Jack smiles with a "huff." "No, you wouldn't," he says. "You'd just be normal. As it is…" He pulls me closer, for a hug. "…you're kind of extraordinary."
I frown, even though the compliment makes my stomach flutter. "I don't say these things so you'll think I'm some sort of saint, Jack. I really do mean them."
"I know you don't, I know you're not, and I know you do." I can hear another "huff" of amusement, and I can just picture his smile.
"…Okay then." I hug him back.
I'm outside the apartment, leaning against the railing, overlooking the quad. As usual, my pack's in my pocket and a cigarette's in my mouth.
The door opens behind me, and Jack joins me, copying my position. I take the cigarette in my fingers and exhale. "Jack, you don't have to be here right now."
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't."
"I'm staying here. End of discussion," he says. His voice is light, nonchalant, but I can sense the underlying sincerity.
I remember when I said that to him. I meant it then. "Fine."
"I don't want you to feel like you have to hide from me when you smoke."
"Okay."
"Renee."
"I said okay, Jack. I understand."
"Okay," he says. He come closer, puts a hand at my nape, and brushes his lips against my temple. "Now, do you really want me to leave?"
Every ashamed aspect of me wants to be alone with this death stick, but every aspect of me that cares about him so deeply wants him to stay. I can't wait to get off cigarettes. I'm tired of being so split in my own mind all the time. "No," I finally say.
"I thought you were gonna quit those," a voice says from my left.
I look over, and Tania's standing a few feet away, wrinkling her nose. A basketball tucked under her arm, she looks between me, Jack, and the cigarette. "Hi, Tanni," I say.
"Well?" she says demandingly.
Jack steps back and starts toward her. "Hi, honey, what's your –" Before he can finish, she turns on her heel and takes off, disappearing beyond the corner. "Wait, I…" He looks back at me. "What did I say wrong?"
I flick away the ashes of my cigarette. "Could've been anything. I met her a couple of days ago, after you found out about…" I wave the cigarette as an explanation. "Her name's Tania. I think she was abused, but I don't know who by or when. I just saw the burn scars on her arm. It would explain why she doesn't seem to trust people."
"She trusted you enough to talk to you," he says. "That's something."
"I suppose."
"Maybe you should talk to her some more. Get to know her." He nods down at the mostly-empty quad, where she can now be seen bouncing the basketball. "She seems lonely."
Tania isn't lonely. She wants to be left alone. Except it's the kind of alone you start wanting long after you stop trusting everyone else. Her real loneliness is buried so deep behind those distrusting eyes that she can't feel it anymore.
I know this because I can see myself in her. In the year following my attempted suicide, Jack was the only person I truly trusted. Well...trust. I never stopped trusting him with my life…and I think I'm starting to trust him with my heart again. It's easier now that he knows I'm addicted to cigarettes.
"I have to stop smoking, Jack," I whisper, switching the topic.
He seems to take my change of topic in stride. "Okay. What do you want to do?"
"Go cold turkey."
Writer's Note: For the purposes of this story, I changed Jack's birthday. He's just a few months younger than the true timeline says he is. (In the series, he was born on February 18, 1966. I just changed the birth month.) We may see some angst ahead, or we may not. I don't know. How would I know? I dun' know nuttin'. x3 ;)