Peace – Part 12
Jack paced around the clearing for a while, chain smoking and avoiding looking at the house. He was so pissed off he couldn't think straight. He'd had a plan, one that had a chance of working – and now Con was ruining it all just by being here. How the hell was he supposed to focus with that asshole hanging around, cluttering up the place? Jack cursed his bad luck as he walked around in circles, dragging on a smoke and occasionally taking a pull of scotch from the bottle he carried.
The heat finally got to him and he became aware of how tired he felt. It was nice though, being warm again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd been free of the cold chills that dogged him through withdrawal. He pulled off his thick sweater and tied it around his waist, then sat on the dry wood of the porch steps and leant against a post that supported the rusting tin roof. He closed his eyes and soaked up the sun, let his anger go. He was too tired to hang on to it. So be it. He'd wait until Con got bored and went away, then continue as planned. It wasn't as though he had to be anywhere, and surely his brother would have to leave eventually to get back to work or something. And he wouldn't want to be away from his new baby for any length of time. Yeah, he could wait. Conrad wouldn't be here long.
The fact that he was an uncle meant nothing to him, he wasn't surprised to find – but he couldn't help but dwell on the happy look on his brother's face when he'd told him about his son. It was a look of joyous bewilderment, worn by new fathers everywhere. He'd been just the same when Kim was born – becoming a father for the first time was nothing short of magical and he knew he'd never forget the amazing feeling of pride and overwhelming joy he'd felt when he'd first held his little girl in his arms. His first word had been a quiet 'Wow!' and then he'd turned to Teri, who had never looked more beautiful, and said softly 'Look what we did....'
She'd just smiled and he hadn't been able to say anything else because the tears of happiness had started and he'd just held Kim as she slept and.....Jack found his eyes brimming with tears again. That had been what he'd thought of when Teri had told him she was pregnant again. Even through everything that was happening that day, he'd remembered what it had felt like as soon as she'd told him and he couldn't wait to feel it again. He'd been so full of love back then, love for Teri and Kim, love for the new baby...and he'd felt loved too. He had mattered to people. Now, he just felt alone. Well, he was alone. And rightly so, it wasn't as though he was worthy of anyone's attention right now. Maybe he could change that, get Kim back...if he couldn't he truly would rather die, he thought. There was no worse feeling than what he felt right at this moment which was unwanted and useless.
Jack closed his eyes and felt drowsy in the heat. This was the main reason he had started using heroin. The stuff in Mexico had been part of it – his mind still shied away from the memories of what he had had to do there – but it was the loneliness that made him keep using. At least when he was high, he didn't care about being on his own...he felt his throat tightening and his stomach clenching so he tried to stop thinking about drugs. He lit another cigarette and attempted to recall the nice dream he'd been having about Teri before Conrad woke him up, anything to distract his mind. He couldn't remember it though and now he'd brought up the memories of the day she died, that was all he could think about. The gut-wrenching realization that she was dead in his arms, the way her head had fallen back, the blood on her shirt, the fact that Nina had done it....it hit him like a train and Jack screwed up his eyes to try and block it out. But no, without the help of heroin he couldn't stop himself...
...he remembered having to break it to Kim, the way she'd looked at him blankly and denied it – repeating 'No....no!' over and over until he'd been driven crazy and had to grab her shoulders and look straight into her eyes and say 'She's dead Kim. She's been murdered....she's not coming back.' And then Kim had run out of the building and he'd been alone, truly alone, for the first time since she'd been born. There was no one for him to hold on to, he had no close friends at CTU even then...he remembered that he'd collapsed onto the floor and.....everything was a little hazy after that. Tony had tried to get him to go to hospital but he'd shoved him away and....no, he couldn't remember. Or he didn't want to. Maybe he'd gone a little mad, it was more than likely. Jack was unaware of the way he was gripping the bottle tightly in his hand now, in the present, his cigarette burned slowly, completely unnoticed and the ash grew longer and longer until it fell onto his boot.
There was the funeral. He'd held it together somehow - while everyone was there at least. Kim had stood between him and Carol, her face white, her eyes glazed with tears. He'd been like stone. It was as though if he talked to anyone the dam would break and he would go mad right there at the graveside. The choir had sang 'Ave Maria' in the church and it played in his head on a continuous reel, drowning out the people that came and shook his hand, put their hands on his back, told him they were sorry – he remembered it like he was watching a movie, as though it had happened to some stranger. The whole episode seemed unreal and he could almost believe it hadn't really happened, if it weren't for the indescribable pain that he remembered feeling after everyone had gone away.
They'd come back to the house for a while, someone had organised food – Teri was from an Irish family after all, and wakes were traditional. He was so angry at the way everyone could chat and eat and drink as though nothing had happened. He'd left and gone back to the graveyard. Flowers covered the site...there were some yellow ones that she'd really liked....dammit, what the hell were they called?! Her favourites....well anyway, he'd sat on the grass next to her. He wanted to feel close to her, talk to her like he used to. Maybe it would help. But he hadn't been able to think of a thing to say. There was no magical connection, no sudden feeling of hope that she could hear him, that she was there by his side. It was just him, sitting uncomfortably on wet grass, feeling water soak through his pants.... He had cried, he knew that. It was from shame as well as loss. He could still feel the shame now and it was worse than it had been even then. Because he hadn't been strong, he hadn't coped. He'd lost it for a full eighteen months. Then he'd saved LA from a nuclear bomb, escaped death more than once, met Kate, screwed that up completely and then become a heroin addict. And worse. Much worse. But Mexico was something he wasn't prepared to think about just yet.
There was no way he could deny the fact that he was a failure, even with all the things he'd accomplished in his job. As a man, he was a burnout. Weak. Pathetic. He'd been back to the graveyard, just once. It was one year after that day and he'd only gone because Kim had asked him to go with her. Oh sure, he'd thought about going before, many times. But he'd never been able to forget the emptiness he'd felt at the funeral and he was afraid that if he went back, he still wouldn't feel close to her. And that day with Kim he was able to hide from it by focusing on how she was coping and ignore the fact that all he saw when he looked at the grave was a slab of carved stone...there was no comfort to be had in that...
'Do you visit her grave?'
"Teri Bauer, beloved wife and mother....."
'Jack?'
What the hell were those yellow flowers called?
'Jack! Do you?'
He was snapped back to the present, his head swivelling round as he became aware of Conrad standing behind him.
'What?'
'Have you been to the cemetery since it happened?'
Jack gaped in confusion. How did he know? Had he been keeping tabs on him? If he knew about it, why had he asked what Teri's name was? How had....then it dawned on him what Con was talking about and suddenly he felt a cold chill run through him as he was taken back to something he had forced himself to forget. He opened his mouth to answer but his mind was blank, it seemed to have shut down somehow and all he could do was stare. Conrad looked down on him with a strange look on his face but Jack couldn't clear his mind long enough to think of a coherent response. He realised that his mouth was open so he dropped his face and desperately tried to get a grip. The hands holding the bottle were shaking and the dead stub of a cigarette fell from his fingers. He trod on it and ground it under his boot, trying to cover his confusion.
'What's the matter Jack? Drugs addled your brain? You still understand English, right?'
Jack didn't raise his head, just muttered softly 'Screw you Con.'
'Nice. Yeah bro, charming. I'm asking if you've ever had the decency to go visit our sister and all you can do is be rude. Jesus, what is your problem?!' He sounded really pissed off and Jack couldn't find the energy to strike back. He felt like he was drowning, Teri was taking over, the gravestone loomed in his mind as he tried to clear his thoughts...but of course, hers wasn't the first funeral he'd been to....
Conrad waited for him to speak and when he didn't he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It was a trait they shared, though neither of them knew it. 'Jack listen to me. Are you high now? Did you shoot up after you got out of the shower? Because I've got to tell you, your behaviour is downright weird.'
'No! I didn't take anything. I'm not high, I'm trying to quit.' Jack's voice was weak and Con noticed that his face was white and he was shaking.
'You don't look very well. Is there something you can take to make it better?'
'I don't want anything. I feel alright. You just...took me by surprise, that's all. I was thinking about something.'
He gave a small smile and Conrad took that to mean that he was OK to talk. 'So do you go to the place?'
The smile disappeared. Jack didn't want to talk about this, desperation swelled inside his chest. He wanted nothing more than to run away, or die or something, anything, not to have to talk about this. But the emotions running through him had tired him out and he felt trapped and helpless. He gave up and shook his head.
'No I've never been.'
'Why not?'
Jack just shrugged.
'Hell, I go three or four times a year and I don't even live in LA! And Christ Jack....she wasn't just your sister, she was your twin. You really don't go? You've never been?' Conrad stared in disbelief at his younger brother, who was just staring at the ground. There was silence for a long minute and then Jack raised his head and stared forwards.
'Do they still live in LA?'
Now it was Conrad's turn to go quiet. 'No. They....well, they both died Jack. They're buried with her.'
'Oh.' He didn't say anything else. Somehow, finding out that both of his parents were dead didn't mean very much. Of course he'd wondered about them, when he was working at CTU he'd even considered finding out about them. But then he remembered that they'd got rid of him, that they didn't care – so why should he? They'd died for him a long time ago while they were still alive, just as he had for them.
'I should have tried to find you for the funeral...' Con felt awkward saying it but he felt like he had to try and explain somehow. Jack didn't give him a chance though, he cut him off straight away.
'No. Its OK. I wouldn't have come anyway.'
Neither of them spoke for a while because it was difficult to know what to say. Jack was very aware of him sitting there but he didn't feel angry or defensive. He didn't really feel anything. He'd never thought he'd speak of his parents again so this was completely unplanned, and much less emotional than he'd thought it would be.
It was a little harder for Conrad. Their past weighed heavily on his mind and it was difficult for him to try and talk about the rest of their family without first clearing the air. But he could sense that Jack either didn't want to talk about it, or wasn't physically up to it at the moment so he tried to work around it as best he could.
'Mom went about a year after you left. You knew she was sick anyway. Dad lasted another ten years. Cancer got him in the end.'
Jack stayed silent. And then.... 'I didn't 'leave' Con. It wasn't my choice.'
'I know.' He wanted to say he was sorry but he couldn't. A bird sang loudly in the trees and there was the distant drone of a plane flying thousands of feet overhead. A breeze blew softly through the clearing and ruffled Jacks hair. Conrad was suddenly struck by the peace around them, and by how quiet Jack had become. His mind rewound through the conversation they'd just had and came to a stop as a realisation hit him.
'You didn't know who I was talking about did you? When I came out here. I asked you if you'd been to Savannah's grave and you were all confused. Then you told me you'd been thinking about something. Jack...look, forgive me if I'm wrong but...I'm not am I? Someone died.' He watched closely as a ripple of pain passed across the tired features beside him. 'You want to tell me about it?'
Jack shook his head.
'You sure?'
A nod. Con knew somehow that he shouldn't push this, some instinct told him that it would be the wrong move. He suddenly felt very bad. When they'd been talking earlier he'd called Jack a junkie several times, he'd jumped to the conclusion in his own head that he was probably divorced and had no job and was basically a waster. But now, it occurred to him that there was maybe more to it than he'd thought. He felt like he wanted to try and help – and yet he had to admit, there was part of him that didn't want to get into it. Part of him wanted to drive away and go back to his wife and son, go back to the easy life and stay away from all this mess.
But he looked at the stranger sitting next to him, staring into the trees and knew that he couldn't leave. He'd helped create this person. There was no way it could be otherwise. They'd been a happy family once, and he'd ruined it. Their sister had died and taken part of Jack with her – and Conrad had taken the rest, in the worst way imaginable. He suddenly felt like he wanted to cry as he watched the face of his brother, who sat so still and so completely lost in his own thoughts. There was a strength in those features, a resolution that Con knew he would never have and the realisation overwhelmed him in an instant. He became acutely aware as they sat there that Jack knew things he would never know – and he knew them because he'd been forced to learn on his own. And that was Conrad's fault and he could never change it...all of a sudden sitting there was too much and Con stood up and walked back into the house, his head swirling. He hadn't been prepared for this, any more than Jack had. And even though Jack was sick and didn't look like he could take much more strain, Conrad had the feeling that, somehow, his brother was going to deal with this a lot better than he was.