Note: Sorry this was so late. I've been currently trying to set my affairs in order for my last year of college, commencing at the end of August. Thanks for all the reviews! Thanks to Marni, who is reviewing and who I am unable to reply to because she's not going by a registered name. Marni, thank you for your continued support of my story. It is much appreciated, miss, as are all the reviews I receive. Oh, and the title of this chapter is keeping in line with the others (if you haven't figured out the connection between all the titles and the chapter content, Google will reveal it in about three seconds, or you could ask me if you'd like) is from something that I thought would be perfect for when they both wake up. Yeah, that's the sap in me.

Jack's face felt warm and bright light pried at his eyelids, trying to get inside. He squinted, his eyes shut, and buried his face further into his pillow, groaning. He was lying on his stomach, the sheet pulled up almost over his head, his hands and forearms buried under the pillow beneath his head. He kept his eyes clenched shut, warding off the light intruding into the bedroom, and turned his head away from the source. Working on feeling alone, he felt a constant source of warmth pressed up against his left side. There was also warmth on the small of his back, a slender line of heat snaking its way across his shirt. Warmth in his hand, beneath his pillow, pliant and warm and comforting, soft and smooth, added to all the other evidence to remind him of the events of the earlier morning, mere hours before.

Shit…

Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting in the brightness of the room, his surroundings gradually coming into focus. When they did, he was looking at the sleeping face of his newly acquired roommate, unlined and peaceful.

She was very close to him. Although they had fallen asleep wrapped up in each other, they had pulled apart slightly in sleep, but not very far. She was on her left side, facing him, her right hand thrown over his back, fingers twisted up in his shirt. The t-shirt she was wearing had shifted along with her and had slid back, exposing her collarbone and her right shoulder, the pale, porcelain skin seemingly aflame with daylight. Her hair was a mess, thrown about onto both of their pillows, hiding her eyes, and her chest rose and fell gently. Mandy's left hand had slid under his pillow to tightly grasp his hand. He squeezed her fingers softly in his, and she tightened her grip in her sleep. The window was still open and he threw a glance over his shoulder to look out at the sky.

Gray clouds obscured the sun in shifts, cutting up its rays of light and splitting them into Morse code. The breeze had picked up, carrying with it an electric, ominous feeling. Skies like this hearkened rain, and Jack was thankful in the back of his mind that he wouldn't have to go into work today. He enjoyed thunderstorms, had since he was a kid, and rarely got the time to just experience the insistent force of nature. He turned back to Mandy and outside the wind picked up, curtains violently twisted on their rods. The brief clamor was enough to wake Mandy. Jack heard her steady breathing falter and then there was a sharp intake of breath as her eyes fluttered open quickly.

"Good morning," Jack said automatically. She disengaged her right hand of his shirt and rubbed sleep from her eyes. Beneath his head, her left hand squeezed his as she began to stretch in bed as he'd seen her do back in Boston.

"Morning…is it going to rain?" she asked, eyes half focused on the sky outside. Jack looked back over his shoulder to see if it was still the sky he saw earlier.

"Yeah, it looks that way," he answered in a tone obviously not unhappy with the weather.

"Oh," she said simply, and finished stretching before looking at him. "You like storms." It was a statement, and not a question, but Jack felt himself nodding against the pillow anyway. They looked at each other for a while, Jack lost in his own thoughts, frowning slightly. This wasn't lost on Mandy and she rubbed her thumb along his palm, pressing firmly to get his attention. Wordlessly, she coaxed him into speaking.

"This has been bothering me…and if I, uh, make you feel uncomfortable, you don't have to answer and you can forget what I said. Okay…alright, well, after what you've been through…you know, during your life with your dad and college and the men in Boston…I…um," Jack paused, grimacing at the subject matter before continuing, "I was wondering why you're comfortable with being physically close now…with me. You know, I can touch you, grab your hand, brush against your shoulder, whatever, and you don't get visibly upset. And, well, we slept together last night…close. I just…maybe it makes you uncomfortable and you just aren't saying so?"

"No, it doesn't make me uncomfortable," she was paying close attention to him now and he continued.

"Alright, well…I guess I'm asking why you're ok with being close to me. Most women who have been ra-…through what you have aren't usually comfortable with physical contact," he finished, forcing himself to watch her reaction, hoping to gauge whether or not she really was uncomfortable with him. She was quiet chewing her bottom lip, in a gesture that was quickly becoming apparent to Bauer to be a sign of her being deep in thought. After a few moments during which he began to fear what her answer would be, she spoke.

"My father…the other men…you aren't them. You, to me, aren't someone dangerous. I know about you, Jack, I mean…from the past. You are right…you do the right thing, you save people. You saved me, got me out of Danvers. I don't see you as a threat, I don't see you as dangerous. After being alone for months and then being around doctors and orderlies almost constantly, you were the first real person I've talked to in a long time. I mean, the doctors were people, but…"

"I know what you mean," he said, urging her to continue.

"Okay, good. I don't know, I just feel like you were my first step back into the 'real' world and I'm grateful for that," she said, hoping he understood her.

"You don't need to do this…," he gestured between them, "…out of gratitude."

"No, no," she shook her head and spoke softly, "This isn't about gratitude. This is about you. And me, I guess."

"What about me and you?" he asked. He thought he had an idea what she was saying. In response, she only smiled slightly and shrugged.

"I don't know," her simple answer made his mind tick off the seemingly endless possibilities lying in that statement. "But I do know that you shouldn't worry about me being comfortable around you. I think that answer is obvious." She loosened her left hand from his and ran her hand down his arm to rest on his elbow.

"But if any of this makes you uncomfortable…" she started, suddenly worried that he might be the one uncomfortable with all of the contact. Don't push…she chastised herself. It was his turn to answer silently and to do so, he moved a hand out to brush a few stray strands of hair from her eyes and smiled slightly. They stayed like that for a few moments, hands resting lightly on each other, before they wordlessly agreed it was time they both got up and started the day. With the only sound in the room the quiet whispering rustle of sheets, they slid out of bed.

She closed her eyes and moved her upturned face under the hot spray of water, liquid heat pouring down her face and neck, over her breasts, down the rest of her body. Her hands reached up to smooth through her soaked and tangled hair before she wrapped them around herself and leaned her head up against the wall of the shower, eyes closed and mouth open, breathing in the steam.

Mandy was trying to sift through everything going through her head. Part of her knew where her feelings were headed regarding Jack. She wasn't stupid; she knew she was drawn to him. But another part…

Too fast. Should I even feel this way?

But another part of her realized the speed with which her feelings were expanding and questioned the sanity of that. She was concerned that what she was doing was somehow harmful to her, maybe even harmful to him.

And then there was the in-bed conversation this morning. She knew she was raped, there was really no way she couldn't, and she was dealing with that herself, internalizing her feelings about it, the emotions, the burning desire to take their lives. However unhealthy that might be, she was not ignoring the situation. But she felt like maybe she shouldn't be so…enamored with the physical presence he provided, shouldn't find so much comfort in his touch, shouldn't be calmed by his simply being there, shouldn't be stilled by his voice.

But she was. She briefly and sarcastically wondered if she was breaching some official Rape Victim Code of Conduct by allowing a man she barely knew to touch her intimately.

I know next to nothing about this man…she thought suddenly, her eyes opening under the spray of hot water. With that thought heavy in her mind, she cut the water to the shower and stepped out, drying and dressing herself, preparing for her first official, full-length day out of the hospital.

As she straightened her hair in the mirror, she thought about the revelation a few moments ago.

I know nothing…and she promised herself that that wouldn't last long. She left the bathroom and found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and finishing a cup of coffee. His hair was still damp from the shower he took before her and she had to consciously resist the urge to run her hand along his head, fingers slithering through wet hair. She poured herself a cup of coffee as he placed his cup in the sink. She leaned across from him, almost mimicking his posture, and peered over the cup at him.

"So what are we doing today?" she asked, looking away from him, suddenly shy when presented with how domestic that sounded, like they were much more intimate than they actually were. She hoped she wasn't blushing because she felt foolish enough.

"You need more things," he said simply. He noticed her look of confusion and decided to play it nonchalant to have a little fun at her expense. He smiled brightly, his expression telling her, falsely, that the plan was that simple, that that was all she needed to know.

"Things?" she asked, frowning and glaring at him playfully, playing along with his game. "What things?"

"People things. More clothing, whatever else you might need. Shampoo, make-up, towels. I've got some stuff, but I've been living by myself, so it's not much, and certainly won't suffice for two people. Oh, and the refrigerator here isn't filled with much, and what does have inside is stuff that I like. Same goes for the cabinets. So we can add that to our list of things to do. Also, I have to stop by CTU to pick something up. After that, there's nothing, which means we can do whatever," he finished his explanation with a shrug.

She thought about this for a second, chewing on her bottom lip, before dragging her eyes from the floor back to his to smile shyly at him before nodding.

"Favorite movie?" she asked as she walked beside him. They had been in the mall for close to two hours now and Mandy had asked him every question that came to mind, from the trivial (favorite food) to the immense (Teri's death). At first, Jack gave short answers, unaccustomed to such conversation. In reality, it had been a long time since his conversations were innocuous and not geared towards terror groups, the locations of their training camps, their plans…the list could go on for hours. He wasn't used to friendly conversation, as sad as that sounded to him when he thought about it during a pause in their conversation. But as the minutes went on, he spoke more freely, elaborating his answers.

"The Way of the Gun. I know that sounds pretty clichéd…but I've always liked Westerns. My dad used to watch them when I was a kid and I remember watching them with him. And Way of the Gun is a modern western, so…yeah, it's cliché," he finished, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. From the bag slung over his shoulder and resting at his hips came an insistent buzz. He shifted the many shopping bags he was carrying and managed to free a hand which slipped into his bag to retrieve his cell phone.

Mandy watched him out of her peripheral vision as he talked quietly on the phone. With a few moments to herself, she thought about the conversation they had had on their way out of the apartment.

"Ok, so wait a minute," she had said as he was pulling the door shut with one hand and slipping on his sunglasses with the other. He looked at her through the dark lenses.

"Yeah?"

"Ok, so I need all this stuff and I haven't even started work at CTU yet, so…how exactly am I buying this?" she asked, confused.

"You're not," Bauer had responded simply. Mandy raised her eyebrows and waited for an explanation. Jack just lead her to his car and got in the driver's seat. She stood outside the door with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for an explanation. He rolled the window down.

"I work. I get paid. I live pretty simply. I've managed to pile up a lot of overtime and as a result, I've got money in the bank. Don't argue, if you really want to, you can pay me back once you start getting paychecks. Alright?" his pause stretched to the point where he wasn't sure whether or not Mandy would agree with his plan or walk away, insulted. After a few more seconds, she looked at her feet and mumbled her thanks before getting into the passenger seat. They drove in silence for a few minutes before Jack couldn't remain quiet.

"I know what you're doing. Don't," he said simply, not looking at her.

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously.

"You feel guilty accepting this from me. You feel like you're a charity case or you're accepting handouts. I'm helping a friend, so just leave it at that and push all this 'charity' and 'handout' bullshit from your mind," the entire time he was speaking, his eyes stayed focused on the road in front of him. When she didn't answer him, he turned to look at her and found her with her eyes fixed on him, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Thank you," she says simply.

"You smile too much," Jack wasn't sure how to respond to such sincerity so he decided to just brush it off as best he could.

Mandy heard him shut the cell phone next to her and retrained her focus on the present. When Jack made no move to reveal the reason for the phone call, other than a curt "It was CTU" she decided to revert back to the previous topic of discussion: him.

"Ok, so your favorite food is chicken curry, your favorite band is The Sex Pistols…not what I expected, by the way, you don't wear cologne, you prefer Sig Sauer, and your favorite movie is Way of the Gun," she paused, taking a breath before finishing, "Is there anything else I should know about you?"

"Um…I hate the beach," he said with some hesitation.

"You live in Los Angeles…" she began, but her cut her off.

"Yeah, and I don't go to the beach. I don't like it. The sand is too hot, it's too crowded. I don't know, I've just never liked it," he was unable to offer a clearer explanation than that.

"Well, go at night if you don't like the crowds and the heat," she replied in a tone that clearly suggested this should have been obvious to him before now. He didn't say anything in response, just walked beside her in silence until they reached the parking garage and found his car.

"Alright, one more stop at CTU and then we can do whatever," he broke the silence between them as he placed the last of their bags in the back. Mandy nodded, too caught up in her own thoughts to respond verbally.

A beach at night, she thought to herself, a plan slowly coalescing in her mind. She almost immediately ignored it in favor of turning her attention to the ride she was currently taking towards her new place of employment.

After playing with the radio dial and half-heartedly snooping through the glove compartment, Mandy sat tapping her fingers restlessly on the dashboard.

Jack had been gone for no more than 15 minutes and she was already restless. She was, however, unwilling to give anything beyond precursory thought as to why his not being there agitated her. She looked around the parking lot at the other cars, and at the clouds in the sky, but every few seconds her eyes would return to briefly watch the front doors of CTU.

You're not a teenager anymore, and with that thought, she forced herself to keep her eyes trained on the inside of the car.

After a few moments, she checked the center console separating the driver and passenger seats and found a half crumpled pack of stale cigarettes. Undaunted, she used the car's cigarette lighter to light one and sunk further down in her seat, knees pressed against the dashboard and feet dangling, to blow smoke out the window and resign herself to watching the front door. What seemed like a lifetime later, Jack emerged from the building, a thin file tucked under his arm and his sunglasses obscuring his eyes. He strode quickly across the parking lot. The car shifted with his weight as he slid into the passenger seat. He removed his glasses and tossed the file onto the dashboard above the steering wheel before leaning back and closing his eyes.

He opened them and looked from the file to her. It was a quick flickering of his gaze, but he met her eyes and she could tell he had something he wanted to tell her. She patiently waited for him to gather his thoughts. He cleared his throat and reached for the file, opening it.

"Forgive me if I'm crossing a line here, but…I had Chloe do some research. Um…you told the doctors in Boston that you didn't think you had any surviving family, correct?" he asked cautiously, expression betraying nothing as confusion began to wash over Mandy.

"Yeah…I mean, I don't think I have any surviving family, but it's hard for me to remember, exactly. Seems like a long, long time since…" she trailed off, wondering about when the last time she'd even seen a family member was. She looked to Jack expectantly.

"Well…Chloe found out that…well…" he wasn't sure why, but he reached over and slide his hand over hers. She threaded their fingers together and he continued, "Your grandparents are still alive."

Her throat seemed to close up and a very heavy feeling congealed inside her chest. She fought back tears, remembering her grandparents, how they raised her lovingly after her father...their son…had done what he did and left the world. Jack squeezed her hand harder.

"Can I…I mean, do you know if they still live where they were before?" her voice cracked. He smirked.

"I've got their full names, their address, which has remained the same for the past two decades, and their phone number. And if you need me to, I can get bank statements and credit history," he smiled, hoping his attempts at joking would cheer her up. She met his eyes and tears spilled down her face, but she laughed despite herself.

"I have family," she said softly.

"You have family," he confirmed.

"When can I-?" she began.

"Soon. We have to get you trained, which given your background probably won't take long at all, and then you can take a weekend or so and go on a trip," he explained to her.

"We can go on a trip. I'm not going to go alone, Jack," she scolded, but she was clearly ecstatic over the news. He nodded his acquiescence.

"If you want me to go, I'll go. Although, if I keep disappearing for reasons related to you, people will start to wonder," he spoke suggestively. She laughed again and wiped her eyes and Jack released her hand. He pulled out of the parking lot and as an afterthought, he looked over at her.

"You have to wait to visit…but I do have that phone number."

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