Jack was dreaming about death.
"Agent Malone, we're counting on you," came the cry from terrified parents.
"Jack, I thought you loved me," came the haunting sobs from Maria's mouth.
"I just can't do this anymore, Jack," Samantha's words echoed through the dream.
"Daddy, why is mommy crying?" six-year-old Kate asked.
"What did you do?" came Hanna's accusing eight-year-old voice.
"She's dead," Agent Fitzgerald said, his voice breaking.
Voices and images floated around Jack's head as he flew across New York State, catching a two-hour catnap. He dreamt of death; the death of people, places, and relationships. He dreamt of the death of losing someone close to him, someone whom he had deeply cared for. And when the crackling of the flight attendant announcing the arrival in Rochester came over the loudspeaker, Jack awoke, feeling worse than he had before he gone to sleep.
Rotating his head around his neck, attempting to loosen up the muscles, Jack realized with a sudden start that in less than twelve hours, he'd be seeing his daughters again. He couldn't even begin to fathom what they were like now. Jack fastened his seatbelt for their landing, wondering about anything and everything he could, ranging from if Kate still liked to draw to if Hanna still held such a vendetta against him.
"Flight one-twenty-nine to Rochester is now landing. Our touchdown time is eleven thirty-three pm. We hope you enjoyed your flight, and thank you all for flying American Airlines."
Jack rubbed his eyes, looking forward to getting to the hotel for some real rest. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Jack stood up, stretching again, and grabbed his overnight carry-on bag from the rack overhead. Making his way to the front of the plane, Jack's mind was still racing, and he was feeling a bit light-headed and overwhelmed from all the questions that kept popping into his mind. How would his girls even react to seeing him after all these years? Sure, he still sent them birthday cards and Christmas gifts, but not once had he received anything from them. No letters, no cards, no phone calls, nothing.
Stepping through the automatic doors, Jack was immediately hit by cool late- evening air. Jack inhaled, relieved to be away from the stuffy plane, and stepped to the curb, raising his hand to signal for a taxi.
"Taxi!" he shouted, stepping off the curb and into the street as one pulled up next to him. Jack pulled open the door and slid inside, setting his carry-on next to him. "The Comfort Inn Central, please."
The taxi driver gave Jack a strange look, and then pointed to a small shuttle that was waiting at the curb.
"Why don't you take the shuttle?" the driver asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Shuttle?" Jack asked, confused. "What, there's a shuttle?"
The taxi driver pointed to a large building that was directly across from the airport.
"There's your hotel. I could drive you over there and earn a dollar fifty...or," the driver pointed to the shuttle, "You could just take the shuttle."
Jack, feeling like an idiot, thanked the driver, grabbed his bag, and headed towards the small shuttle. The shuttle was packed inside, so Jack was forced to sit next to large, chatty man with breath that could knock over an elephant. Jack gritted his teeth and tried to look uninterested, while his seatmate chit-chatted on about his flight.
"Is this day over yet?" Jack wondered, as the shuttle pulled away from the curb and drove for approximately a minute and a half over to the hotel. Needless to say, Jack was the first person off the shuttle as he made his way over to the front desk.
Before the girl at the desk could even open her mouth, Jack had already thrown his bag up on top of the counter. "Reservations for Malone," Jack said, unzipping his bag and pulling out his wallet.
The girl's smile faltered, and was replaced by an incredulous look. Jack impatiently tapped his foot.
"What's the matter, isn't it there?" Jack demanded, his nerves running raw. He checked the large clock behind the desk, rolling his eyes when he saw that it was ten to twelve already. "Come ON!" Jack began, his impatience taking over. "I don't have all night, sweetheart. Reservation for Malone. It's in there, right? Malone! Jack Malone!"
The girl, as if snapped out a dream, regained her intelligence once again, and began flipping through the reservation book, flustered.
"Y-yes, sir. Right here, sir. I'll just need your credit card..." Jack handed her his card like clockwork before she could even finish, which she swiped and returned to him, her eyes trained downward. Jack signed the book and finished checking in, grabbing his bag and heading towards the elevators. "Thank you, and enjoy your stay at..." the girl's voice trailed off, as her boss walked over to talk to her.
It didn't even hit Jack until he was unlocking his room. The supervisor, when he had walked over towards the front desk, had been saying, "Thanks for staying late, Kate. I really appreciate it."
"SHIT!" Jack dropped his bag down and raced to the elevators, all of which were in use. Grumbling, Jack made his way towards the stairs, running down four flights. He pushed open the door to the lobby and ran towards the front desk. An older man was there now, checking in a young couple with two small children.
"Excuse me!" Jack began, while the man continued helping the couple. He did, however, shoot Jack a bemused look or two. Jack, on the verge of pulling out his gun, began ringing the service bell, over and over and over and over...
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Dingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingding—
The man put his hand over Jack's hand and took the bell away.
"Sir, I'm going to be forced to call the manager if you don't—"
"Call whoever the hell you want to call," Jack snapped, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his FBI i.d. card. The man's eyes widened. "I want to know where the girl who was just working this counter is," Jack demanded.
"Who, Kate? She left about two minutes ago," the man stammered out. "Why do you want to know about he—"
"Just do me a favor and tell me where she is right NOW," Jack said, annunciating the word "now". "Not two minutes ago, not five years ago, but right NOW."
"Uh, if you hurry, you might be able to catch her out in employee parking..." the man said, thinking.
"Which would be..." Jack asked, his fingers impatiently tapping on the desk.
"Go straight through that door," the man began, pointing to a side door that went outside to a parking lot. "Employee parking is just past the first lot out there."
Jack gruffly thanked him, and raced out the door, his coat flying behind him.
"Kate!" Jack called out into the blackness.
He heard a car door slam and an engine start up. Jack followed the sound straight to a small white Aspire. Looking inside, he was blinded by the headlights suddenly turning on. Jack stepped towards the drivers' side door and knocked on the window. Kate was inside.
"Agent Malone, we're counting on you," came the cry from terrified parents.
"Jack, I thought you loved me," came the haunting sobs from Maria's mouth.
"I just can't do this anymore, Jack," Samantha's words echoed through the dream.
"Daddy, why is mommy crying?" six-year-old Kate asked.
"What did you do?" came Hanna's accusing eight-year-old voice.
"She's dead," Agent Fitzgerald said, his voice breaking.
Voices and images floated around Jack's head as he flew across New York State, catching a two-hour catnap. He dreamt of death; the death of people, places, and relationships. He dreamt of the death of losing someone close to him, someone whom he had deeply cared for. And when the crackling of the flight attendant announcing the arrival in Rochester came over the loudspeaker, Jack awoke, feeling worse than he had before he gone to sleep.
Rotating his head around his neck, attempting to loosen up the muscles, Jack realized with a sudden start that in less than twelve hours, he'd be seeing his daughters again. He couldn't even begin to fathom what they were like now. Jack fastened his seatbelt for their landing, wondering about anything and everything he could, ranging from if Kate still liked to draw to if Hanna still held such a vendetta against him.
"Flight one-twenty-nine to Rochester is now landing. Our touchdown time is eleven thirty-three pm. We hope you enjoyed your flight, and thank you all for flying American Airlines."
Jack rubbed his eyes, looking forward to getting to the hotel for some real rest. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Jack stood up, stretching again, and grabbed his overnight carry-on bag from the rack overhead. Making his way to the front of the plane, Jack's mind was still racing, and he was feeling a bit light-headed and overwhelmed from all the questions that kept popping into his mind. How would his girls even react to seeing him after all these years? Sure, he still sent them birthday cards and Christmas gifts, but not once had he received anything from them. No letters, no cards, no phone calls, nothing.
Stepping through the automatic doors, Jack was immediately hit by cool late- evening air. Jack inhaled, relieved to be away from the stuffy plane, and stepped to the curb, raising his hand to signal for a taxi.
"Taxi!" he shouted, stepping off the curb and into the street as one pulled up next to him. Jack pulled open the door and slid inside, setting his carry-on next to him. "The Comfort Inn Central, please."
The taxi driver gave Jack a strange look, and then pointed to a small shuttle that was waiting at the curb.
"Why don't you take the shuttle?" the driver asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Shuttle?" Jack asked, confused. "What, there's a shuttle?"
The taxi driver pointed to a large building that was directly across from the airport.
"There's your hotel. I could drive you over there and earn a dollar fifty...or," the driver pointed to the shuttle, "You could just take the shuttle."
Jack, feeling like an idiot, thanked the driver, grabbed his bag, and headed towards the small shuttle. The shuttle was packed inside, so Jack was forced to sit next to large, chatty man with breath that could knock over an elephant. Jack gritted his teeth and tried to look uninterested, while his seatmate chit-chatted on about his flight.
"Is this day over yet?" Jack wondered, as the shuttle pulled away from the curb and drove for approximately a minute and a half over to the hotel. Needless to say, Jack was the first person off the shuttle as he made his way over to the front desk.
Before the girl at the desk could even open her mouth, Jack had already thrown his bag up on top of the counter. "Reservations for Malone," Jack said, unzipping his bag and pulling out his wallet.
The girl's smile faltered, and was replaced by an incredulous look. Jack impatiently tapped his foot.
"What's the matter, isn't it there?" Jack demanded, his nerves running raw. He checked the large clock behind the desk, rolling his eyes when he saw that it was ten to twelve already. "Come ON!" Jack began, his impatience taking over. "I don't have all night, sweetheart. Reservation for Malone. It's in there, right? Malone! Jack Malone!"
The girl, as if snapped out a dream, regained her intelligence once again, and began flipping through the reservation book, flustered.
"Y-yes, sir. Right here, sir. I'll just need your credit card..." Jack handed her his card like clockwork before she could even finish, which she swiped and returned to him, her eyes trained downward. Jack signed the book and finished checking in, grabbing his bag and heading towards the elevators. "Thank you, and enjoy your stay at..." the girl's voice trailed off, as her boss walked over to talk to her.
It didn't even hit Jack until he was unlocking his room. The supervisor, when he had walked over towards the front desk, had been saying, "Thanks for staying late, Kate. I really appreciate it."
"SHIT!" Jack dropped his bag down and raced to the elevators, all of which were in use. Grumbling, Jack made his way towards the stairs, running down four flights. He pushed open the door to the lobby and ran towards the front desk. An older man was there now, checking in a young couple with two small children.
"Excuse me!" Jack began, while the man continued helping the couple. He did, however, shoot Jack a bemused look or two. Jack, on the verge of pulling out his gun, began ringing the service bell, over and over and over and over...
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Dingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingding—
The man put his hand over Jack's hand and took the bell away.
"Sir, I'm going to be forced to call the manager if you don't—"
"Call whoever the hell you want to call," Jack snapped, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his FBI i.d. card. The man's eyes widened. "I want to know where the girl who was just working this counter is," Jack demanded.
"Who, Kate? She left about two minutes ago," the man stammered out. "Why do you want to know about he—"
"Just do me a favor and tell me where she is right NOW," Jack said, annunciating the word "now". "Not two minutes ago, not five years ago, but right NOW."
"Uh, if you hurry, you might be able to catch her out in employee parking..." the man said, thinking.
"Which would be..." Jack asked, his fingers impatiently tapping on the desk.
"Go straight through that door," the man began, pointing to a side door that went outside to a parking lot. "Employee parking is just past the first lot out there."
Jack gruffly thanked him, and raced out the door, his coat flying behind him.
"Kate!" Jack called out into the blackness.
He heard a car door slam and an engine start up. Jack followed the sound straight to a small white Aspire. Looking inside, he was blinded by the headlights suddenly turning on. Jack stepped towards the drivers' side door and knocked on the window. Kate was inside.