The upside to the intense, paralyzing fear engendered by a barely averted nuclear Armageddon was the fact that there was almost zero traffic on the roads ( She was convinced that Jack had some sort of portable wormhole generator. It was the only plausible explanation as to how he managed to get around LA as quickly as he did.) and the stores were nearly abandoned. Even the looters one would usually expect to see out in droves after a disaster were pretty rare. Apparently, radiation was scarier than greed was strong.
Her first stop was the Super Wal-Mart. It made good, practical sense, despite the fact that she wasn't all that fond of the corporate giant. She could get food and clothes there, then grab the pizzas on the way home.
Of course a little thing like a nuclear bomb detonating in Valencia wouldn't be enough to make Wal-Mart close for a couple of days. Entering the store, she was met by a chilly blast of air conditioning and a chipper "Hello, Welcome to Wal-Mart!" from the greeter, who had to be old enough to be Chloe's grandmother.
Grabbing a cart -- Victory! It wasn't one with a squeaky wheel-- she made her way over to the men's clothing section. Staring at the array of choices, she let out an annoyed huff. Asking Jack for his sizes would have been a good idea, but she figured it wouldn't be too hard to make some guesses. Socks were easy enough, so she dumped a 10 pack of Hanes socks in the cart, but hesitated over the boxers.
With a sigh, she looked around the area and spotted a small gaggle of sales people nearby. Pointing at one of the men, she said, "Excuse me…Yes, you. Come here, please."
The young man came towards her, curiously peering at her and the section of the store she was perusing. "How can I help you?" he asked with a bland, nervous smile.
Chloe cocked her head and looked at him critically. Close enough. "I need to buy some things for a friend. I don't know his sizes, but he's about your height, maybe 25-30 pounds lighter. What size should I buy?"
Obviously not used to being put on the spot like this, the young man, Tim, according to his name tag, seemed taken aback. "Umm," he said with a blink as he grabbed a pack of boxers. "These'll be okay."
She looked at the package. "Are you sure? I've had a hell of a few days and I just wanna go home and rest for a couple of days."
Tim sniffed, then said, "I don't mean to be rude, lady, but everyone's had a bad time lately. It was supposed to be my day off, but I got called in cause people didn't come in to work. You're not at work, so how are you having a worse time than me?"
Oh, it's on, Cupcake. "How? Really?" She grabbed the boxers and took a step towards Tim as she dropped them in her cart. "Well, let's just put aside the whole nuclear strike. That sucked for us all. On top of that, I am a CTU agent." Not any sort of national secret there.
She took another step towards him, finger pointing at his chest. "A close friend was shot in the head only a few feet away from me." Don't go into detail.
Step and finger jab. "Another friend of mine, the guy I'm shopping for, was just released from a Chinese prison, where he was beaten and tortured. Why was he there? He saved the country and some people didn't like that!" Haul it in Chloe, getting close to classified info there.
Tim backed into a rack of clothes as Chloe finished her rant, "And, the final straw? I'm freaking pregnant! All I want is a little help so I can go home. If you can't manage that, get me someone who can!" Top that, Asshat!
One of the other sales assistants, Annie, stepped up. "Go help Sam, Tim," she said. "I can help you, ma'am."
With Annie's help, Chloe picked up a few packs of t shirts, long and short sleeved, a couple pairs of Wrangler jeans, a grey hoodie, a few heavy twill work shirts and some soft cotton sleep pants. Still, she was pretty sure the staff of the men's clothing department was very happy to have the crazy lady leave in search of groceries.
Maybe she had over-reacted, but she thought maybe she deserved a little slack after the day she had.
Once confronted by the choices in the grocery section, she decided to expand beyond her usual selection of frozen meals. There were some in her freezer at home, and she knew there were canned goods, pasta, sauces and peanut butter in the cupboards, but she needed pretty much everything else. Whatever else she knew about prison, she was sure that Jack hadn't been eating nutritionally balanced meals in a long while.
Cereal, oatmeal, granola, 2 loaves of bread and hamburger buns joined chocolate, popcorn, granola bars, potato chips, pretzels and peanuts in the cart. Instead of just soda, she picked up bottled water and orange and cranberry juice, also milk, butter, cheese, cottage cheese, eggs, yogurt and mayonnaise. And, of course, Ice Cream. Lots of Ice Cream.
The meat gave her pause, then she shrugged. She could just buy a bunch of stuff and freeze it. So she grabbed a selection of deli meats, bacon, steak, hamburger, pork chops, sausages and hot dogs. Produce was a bit easier. Apples, bananas, grapes, oranges and strawberries as well as broccoli, carrots, celery cucumbers, lettuce, onions, potatoes and tomatoes.
By the time she pushed the cart to the check out line, it was overflowing. Standing there, she called Papa Gino's and ordered 2 large pepperoni pizza's. Picking them up on the way home was simple. All in all, the trip took a little more than an hour, an accomplishment that she was quite proud of.
Piling the food on the kitchen table and counter, she carried the bag containing Jack's new clothes back towards the bedroom. As she passed the bathroom, she heard the shower still running and quickly selected a pair of navy cotton pants and a white t-shirt and boxers, before carrying them back to the bath.
"Jack?" she called, knocking on the door and getting no response. This worried her. "Jack, I'm gonna come in, okay?"
Worry overpowered potential embarrassment as Chloe pushed the door open and was immediately hit by an almost opaque wall of steam. The water must have been near scalding to create such a cloud and the whole room felt like a sauna. Placing the clothes on the small towel rack, she crossed to the window and opened it, hoping the room would clear. "Jack, are you all right?"
Still no answer. Damn it. She didn't see any movement beyond the curtain and, steeling herself, gripped the edge of the curtain. "I'm gonna open the curtain."
If he was having some sort of PTSD fit, maybe hearing her voice would help keep him grounded enough not to yank her spine out through her mouth.
Though she might have preferred that gruesome thought to the reality she found. Jack was sitting on the floor of the tub, knees hugged to his chest and head bowed. The hot water pounded down on him and from the smell (and the fact that the cap was off the shampoo. Why were men incapable of putting caps back on?), she knew he'd gotten washed before…deciding to just check out for a while.
Not that Chloe blamed him. She'd seen his hand, read Bill and Curtis's reports, but none of that prepared her for the sight of the extensive damage. Scars covered much of his exposed back, shoulders and arms, old wounds, cuts, burns and things she couldn't identify, criss-crossing with newer, still healing scars and bruises. She couldn't even imagine suffering through the sort of pain he had to have endured…and Bill had noted that Cheng mentioned Jack hadn't said one word in 20 months.
Chloe wasn't a crier, but she knew some of the moisture on her cheeks wasn't from the billowing steam. Dropping to her knees by the side of the tub, she reached out and gently touched his short, blond hair. "Jack," she said his name again and this time, between her voice and touch, got a reaction.
Jack raised his head and blinked at her in confusion. "Chloe?" he asked, not seeming particularly embarrassed or startled, just surprised. "What're you doing back so soon?"
"I've been gone over an hour," she said, quickly turning off the taps so the water would stop hitting him in the face. "I think you might have lost track of time." Act like you don't see the scars. Compartmentalize. If he wants to talk, fine. Just try not to say the wrong thing….
"Oh," he said simply as she stood and grabbed up a fluffy towel. It was a deep rose shade, the first one her hands landed on. She passed it to him with an awkward smile.
"I put a change of clothes there." She pointed to the small pile of clothes she had set on the towel rack. "I'm gonna get the kitchen ready."
"Thanks," he said again. He was being quiet, even by Jack standards, but she supposed that was to be expected after everything. Hell, it was probably adrenaline and sheer will that had kept him functioning throughout the crisis.
She made it out into the kitchen, turned on the faucet and scooped up a dish towel, raising it to her mouth just in time to muffle her sobs.
Swiping a hand across the steam fogged mirror, Jack braced himself on the edge of the sink. The blurry mirror showed a distorted reflection and that was almost a relief. Earlier-- no, yesterday --, when he had seen a mirror for the first time in nearly 2 years, he'd been taken aback.
Sure, his body bore may visible marks of his captivity, but Cheng and his men had left his face mostly intact. It seemed wrong somehow, that the features he saw in the mirror remained unchanged from those that he remembered from before. An experience like that changed you so profoundly that he felt it should be readily evident. Some water, a shave and haircut, clean clothes and, to an outsider, it was like it had never happened.
But it had.
And he would never, never forget. The memories were carved into both his body and soul….
He jerked out of his dark reverie, suddenly aware of the implications of the fact that Chloe had been in the bathroom with him. She had pulled back the shower curtain and shaken him free of the memories he had fallen into. There was no way she hadn't seen the evidence of Cheng's sadism, forever clear on his flesh.
Chloe knew, of course. Jack harbored no illusions that she would have been foolish enough to assume he'd come though more or less unscathed, but abstract awareness was an all together different creature than concrete knowledge. He was just grateful she hadn't reacted like Bill, Curtis and even Assad, who had all gaped at the extent of the damage.
It made him uncomfortable and he was thankful that Chloe had somehow seemed to know that. But he knew she had to have been affected, she was his friend and, despite a few personality quirks, really did care about people. She just expressed herself differently. He could relate.
Drying himself quickly, he slipped into the soft, clean clothes. Everything fit loosely and, of course, the pants were a little long (as always), but Chloe had done a good job guessing his sizes. It hadn't even occurred to him to tell her that information before she left.
As he knotted the drawstring, he smiled a little to himself. Maybe the information was in his personnel file.
Padding barefoot out of the bathroom, he headed out towards the kitchen, where he could hear the sounds of Chloe moving around. He could smell the pizza, the pepperoni, melted cheese and grease…it was funny what you missed.
Chloe was roaming around the kitchen, shoving food into the fridge and cabinets. The pizza boxes sat on the counter, beside two plates and glasses. Some random part of his mind noted that one of the plates had little butterflies decorating the surface. It was a whimsical touch, unexpected and delicate…
"I'd say you should have juice or milk, but neither goes with pizza. So, Root Beer or Sprite?" Chloe asked, turning to face him, face a little blotchy and red eyed, apples clutched in her hands. "And apples, fridge or counter?"
Jack blinked and racked his brain for an answer. It had been a long time since he'd had an apple. Granny Smith's were his favorite. He'd always enjoyed biting into them, the first taste of fresh, tart, cool juice on his tongue… "Fridge," he said with a nod.
"Good." She stuck the fruit in the crisper and her hand hovered by the cans of cola on the door. "Soda?"
"Root Beer," he said, stepping over to the pizza boxes and placing two slices on each plate.
They carried their food and drinks around to the other side of the counter, where two stools were tucked under the overhang. "I eat at the counter," she offered by way of explanation, then glanced at the small attached dining room, which contained an impressive computer set up instead of the usual table and chairs. "I don't entertain."
Settling onto a stool, he nodded. That made perfect sense to him. Why waste the space?
The pizza was good, the cheese hot and melty, sauce flavorful and crust un-burnt. After so long subsisting on the bland food provided by his jailers, the pepperoni burned his mouth a bit, but he wasn't about to complain. It was a good burn.
They ate silently, Jack slowly working his way through his food, not wanting to shock his stomach, while Chloe powered through hers and grabbed two more slices.
As Jack glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, he realized she was still wearing the black shirt and skirt she had worn when he had first seen her over a day earlier. The bite of pizza he had been in the process of swallowing caught in his throat. Time and time again, Chloe went out of her way to help him, usually when no one else would. It was silly, he knew, that this was what shook him, after all the times she'd risked her job and time in federal prison to help him.
Taking a sip of his root beer to clear his throat, he coughed, carbonated bubbles unexpectedly shooting up into his sinuses. He raised a hand to rub his nose vigorously and clear his eyes.
Chloe looked over at him, obviously concerned and he saw her eyes tick to the thick, gnarled scars on his hand before locking on his face. "You okay?" she asked, rapidly swallowing her own mouthful.
"Soda up my nose," he murmured, turning back to his plate and trying to unobtrusively drop his hand below the counter, out of sight.
With a nod, Chloe took another bite of her pizza, but didn't say anything. Which was why he was surprised when her hand found his and interlaced their fingers without comment. He could feel the smooth, soft skin on the back of her hand under his fingers and knew hers would be resting on the raised mess on his.
Somehow, he was okay with that.
They finished the rest of their meal in peace, hand in hand. When they'd each had their fill, Chloe got up and moved to place the dishes in the sink.
"I can do that," Jack offered, making her look at him questioningly. "I'll clean up," he elaborated, "If you want to grab a shower or something."
"Okay," she agreed with a little hesitation. "There's cookies in the cabinet, chocolate in the candy jar….Oh and Ice Cream in the freezer."
Her continued, unique, Chloe-like fussing made him fell safe and…home wasn't the right word, but it was the closest his tired mind could come up with.
Taking a shower much quicker and less scalding than Jack's, Chloe slid into her own pajamas, despite the fact that it was still light out. They were both still exhausted and she thought it would be a good idea to turn in early. Very early.
She found Jack sitting at the counter again, kitchen cleaned and washed dishes drying in the strainer. The idea of Jack doing something so normal and domestic was foreign, but he was obviously adept at the task.
He had found the chocolate, like she had known he would. The purple, paper wrapper of a Cadbury Dairy Milk bar sat on the counter beside the silver wrapped block of candy. Jack had broken off one of the rows of three chocolate squares and had eaten one.
She had always found it kind of adorable that macho, more than a little scary Jack Bauer had a definite chocolate habit. Still, as far as vices went, it was a pretty mild one.
He pushed the chocolate across the counter towards her and she accepted the treat, popping a square of the creamy chocolate melting on her tongue. The light filtering in from outside had take on a distinctly orange hue and somehow, everything seemed a bit ethereal and surreal. The light, the silence, the exhaustion after the chaos of late…..
"Is it too early for you to sleep?" she asked Jack, who shook his head as she folded the foil back around the rest of the chocolate.
He stood up. "Honestly, I could sleep for a week," he said, a sentiment Chloe could find no fault in.
Now that she had poised the question, she hesitated. It was silly, really. It's not like she wasn't used to sleeping alone. Hell, she usually preferred it. Maybe it was the weird pregnancy hormones that always seemed to make people crazy combined with a nagging fear that Jack was gonna disappear again, but she didn't want to let him out of her sight just again just yet.
"Chloe?" he asked, peering at her as she pondered how to handle this.
"There's a guest room," she blurted awkwardly, then flapped her hand in a random gesture. "I'm just…after everything, I don't…."
She trailed off, frustrated. Communicating her emotions had never been her forte.
Jack, however, somehow seemed to understand her meandering ramble. "No, me neither."
Biting her lip for a moment, Chloe offered, "I don't snore or steal the covers."
The noise that came out of jack's mouth sounded more like a cough, but Chloe was pretty sure it was a laugh. "Okay."
Climbing into bed with Jack was a lot less strange than she had envisioned. As seemed to be the pattern for the day, little was said as Chloe simply sat on her normal side of the bed and Jack took the other. The curtains blocked most of the light, but enough still filtered in that, were she not so tired, sleep would have been impossible. As it was, they both yawned as they settled under the light covers.
Soon they were dozing and Chloe rolled onto her side, burrowing her cheek into the pillow below her head. Still, she was startled when a heavy arm draped around her, then jerked away.
"Sorry," Jack mumbled, scooting back to the other side of the bed. He had migrated towards her as he fell asleep. Apparently, Jack was a cuddler. Who knew?
"It's okay," she surprised herself by saying. "I don't mind."
Behind her, she felt him still, then ask, "Really?"
"Really." Normally, she liked her space, but the idea that she'd be able to know he was there, even in sleep, was appealing.
She felt him scoot closer again, body lining up behind hers and arm wrapping lightly around her waist. His hand came to rest on her stomach and she felt his breath on her neck as he murmured, "Thank you, Chloe."
"I'm glad you're here." Her response was thick and she felt tears on her cheeks.
Jack sensed something and, in a concerned tone, asked, "Chloe, what's…."
"Nothing," she said quickly. They needed sleep, not a sob session airing the relief and happiness and millions of other emotions that seemed to be tumbling around in her head. "Just the damn hormones."
"Hormones?" From his tone, Jack immediately knew what she hadn't said.
Damn, she hadn't wanted to say anything yet. On the plus side, she could now probably blame evil pregnancy hormones for a lot of things throughout the course of her pregnancy. That could come in handy.
"Yeah," she mumbled, her own hand joining his on her stomach. "Found out this morning."
"A little Chloe," Jack mused, then actually rubbed her tummy gently. "Congratulations…or…."
"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "I mean, timing and situation, not exactly ideal, but a baby, my baby…a little nervous, but happy, yeah."
Jack was quiet for a moment before he questioned, "The father?"
Morris had made it clear things were over between them and if he was drinking again, she didn't want him around a baby. "He doesn't know."
Another quiet pause. "You want me to…talk to him?"
"No," Chloe interlaced their fingers again. "I don't want him to know."
"Oh," he stilled behind her, then very seriously asked, "Want me to kick his ass?"
She chuckled and actually leaned back into him. "No, I want you to go to sleep."
"Okay."
Chloe fell asleep to the feel of breath on her neck and the soothing sensation of having her stomach rubbed.
TBC…….
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