Five months later…

d2: + 5 months

d3: − 2 years, 7 months

Part IV: Changes

The water was getting warm. Or at least it felt that way.

Nina tilted her head back and closed her eyes, waiting for the sick feeling and the throbbing pain in her head to go away. She knew it hadn't been the smartest move to run herself a cold bath, but the ventilation system had broken down and the heat was killing her. She should have gotten used to it by now but she hadn't, and on top of that it was warmer than usually this time of the year.

A new wave of nausea was washing over her and she wondered if she had been stupid or forgetful enough to drink the tab water. But she hadn't. Must have been something in the food, she concluded, or the coffee she had been having earlier, roaming the endless lines of bazaars and souvenir shops. She should never have come up here.

But she had been needy for company, to speak some English or German, even French if she had to, just to talk to someone American or European. So she had packed her bags and driven up to one of the tourist places, it didn't matter which, checked into one of the five-star-hotels and tried to do what everyone around her was doing: relaxing and enjoying themselves.

But it hadn't worked out for her. The crowded beaches had appalled her too much to even consider going there, and she could hardly remember why anyone would enjoy lying in the sun for hours, completely exposed, burning, sweating, grilling, the only relief the sun oil polluted shallow water. She had had her fair share of sunny days those past months. She was overdosed. She had never been a sunbathing enthusiast but even the most dedicated sun worshipper would have been tired by now. What she really wanted was cold, winter, maybe snow. Just no more sun, no more heat. No more tab water you couldn't drink, and no more carpet bazaars. Although the latter ones were a tourist phenomenon she would leave behind once she was back home.

Home. She was amazed at how easy the thought came to her. Home? The place she had been staying at since they had let her go? The States? L.A.? She didn't know. She had never had a problem to move, to start over again somewhere else, to adjust to changes. But this time was different.

Limited exile. She hadn't been happy about this change but after everything that had happened she knew she had to be grateful she was out and free. And alive. The image of a gun barrel against her head came to her and she quickly blinked it away.

She still wondered why Palmer had let her go in the first place, but she certainly hadn't felt a desire to complain or argue. Being in no position to make demands any longer, she had accepted the limited exile and kept quiet. And thought maybe it wasn't going to be that bad. She was restricted to North Africa, okay, but she was free. Free to pick a country, move to another one if she wanted to, get a job or not, whatever. In the beginning there had been certain arrangements to check on her but they couldn't go on like that forever. Even US resources had their limits.

Not that there was anything about her life these days that would raise attention anyway. If they had someone watching her, he or she would probably have died of boredom by now or resigned out of frustration. She would have. An assignment like that could only be a punishment or at best a polite way to suggest retirement. But there was no one watching her, she was almost sure of that. Would be completely sure if it wasn't for that creepy voice inside her mind, reminding her every time she was tempted to forget. What about Jack?

Was he following her activities? Keeping an eye on her like he had promised? Sometimes the thought, the uncertainty really, was driving her crazy. And how often had she been tempted to reactivate one of her old contacts, to find out, to make sure. But maybe that was just what he was waiting for. They had made the stipulations of her exile very clear and she sure as hell didn't want to break them.

Watching the scars on her body, the marks of a time she preferred to forget, flashbacks of the interrogations came washing over her, and once again she closed her eyes, trying to shut them out, the images, scents and cries, before they could take over. Maybe she couldn't make her sickness or her headache disappear by mere willpower, but she wouldn't give in to her memories. Taking a deep breath to get prepared, she got up and climbed out of the bathtub.

The heat hit her right away, even stronger now that her body was out of the cold water, and she got her instant reward, feeling dizzy and queasy for a moment. She grabbed a towel and walked over to the sink, glancing at the wristwatch she had taken off earlier. She still had a few hours to decide whether she would go or not. He had offered to pick her up at her hotel but she had rejected it, politely but determined. There was a good chance that they would spend a night together but there was no need for him to know where she was staying. No attachments, no involvements. No complications.

She had always kept it that way, at least as far as her private life was concerned. Back when you had one. It seemed such a long time ago now. Things had gotten more than complicated at CTU, with Jack, and then Tony, and prison was the last place where privacy meant anything. Ironically enough, now her private life was all she had. And it wasn't exactly fulfilling.

She had thought about her options, knowing she needed something to do. Not just something to kill time, to keep herself busy. Money wasn't a problem either, she still had plenty of it and it would feed her for another couple of years before she would have to start worrying. No, what she needed was something to get engaged in. A task, a purpose, something that would keep her going. As for now, she just had a house, a car, and nothing to do. Sometimes she wished she could have moved somewhere where she knew people, but she had betrayed the ones working for the law and couldn't be seen with those on the other side.

She sighed. At least one good thing about killing Faheen: he never had a chance to spread the word who had sold him out. It was enough to worry about Jack and prepare for the day he would decide her time was up. She didn't need more people coming after her and there had been no survivors in Visalia. She had never thanked Jack for taking care of that.

¤¤¤

Nick took his key card out of his wallet, glanced at it for a last time and handed it to the guard who took it with a motionless expression.

"If you please sign here?"

"Sure."

Putting his signature onto the form, Nick almost expected a somewhat nostalgic or doubtful feeling, second thoughts or hesitation. But there was nothing and he returned both pen and paper, nodded a sort of goodbye to the man, and walked off without looking back.

Only when he stood outside, when the door of the main entrance had closed behind him, and he was out in the bright light of the day he took a moment to let it sink in. This was it.

Standing there and taking a deep breath, he had just closed his eyes when a familiar voice startled him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He looked up, squinting against the sun, and found Davis leaning against one of the pillars to his left, the usual cigarette dangling between his lips.

"Trying to get away before I turn into a chain smoker as well."

He wasn't sure if he saw a little smile on Davis face, but he took a few steps to approach him.

"Good day today," the older agent sighed and flipped the cigarette away, looking out over the parking lot with the small areas of green.

"Yeah," Nick agreed and for a moment they were both standing in silence.

"You're sure about this, kid?"

Nick nodded and Davis then did too, letting his gaze wander over the neat lines of cars again. He left it at that and Nick heaved a mute sigh of relief. He didn't want to debate his decision any more, didn't want to hear again that he should give it more time. He didn't need more time.

"Got any plans what to do next?"

"There are some offers and ideas on the table but I haven't signed anything yet."

"Well," Davis cleared his throat and turned to him, his eyes still avoiding him though, "if I were you, I'd take the chance and go on a long vacation first."

Nick understood the hint. "Where would you go?" he played along.

"Some island, doesn't matter which one. Just to clear my head, get some perspective."

"I'll send you a postcard when I'm there," Nick laughed.

"Good."

Finally Davis looked at him and after a second reached out his hand. "Good luck, kid."

"Thanks," Nick replied - and felt a little uncomfortable. This was harder than he had thought it would be.

They shook hands.

"Take care," Davis said, sounding almost casually.

"Yeah, you too."

Davis nodded, and without another word he turned around and walked back inside the building. Nick watched the door closing behind him and stared at his reflection in the glass for a moment before he turned away as well. Time to get out of here.

He went over to his car and got in, slowly turned the keys in the ignition, and pulled out into traffic.

Got any plans what to do next?

Did he? He hadn't been lying to Davis, there were some options he had been looking into. But the truth was, he didn't even know what he wanted any longer. For a long time he had thought he did, and now he had found out that what he had wanted wasn't right for him. Not even two years and he was done. Now where could he go from here?

Maybe Davis was right. Maybe he should take off for a while, just leave everything behind. Get some distance. He could afford a little trip, he still had the money his parents had left him, had never touched it to this day. Maybe it was time now. After all, this was a bit of an emergency, wasn't it? Things had changed and he would have to get used to the thought - the fact - that his future would look different to the one he had planned.