A/N: Hello, people of 24-FanFiction-Land! This is my first time writing a 24 FanFic—I usually write for Law & Order: SVU. I decided to write this after watching Monday night's episode, where Agent Renee Walker was buried alive by Jack, and how empathetic he looked while doing so. In my personal opinion, I think that something will spark between the two of them… and I know that Renee was pretty damn hurt when she realized that Jack was "betraying" her. But anyways, this is a oneshot in present-tense, and I did this just for the hell of it. Enjoy, and please R&R!
Let's list all of the things that sucked today: I put my utter trust in a man, Jack Bauer, that I didn't know, who turned out to betray me and the rest of the FBI in the process. I tortured suspects by cutting of their air supply, and pushing a gun to their wounds. I flat-out lied to my boss and disobeyed him. I got captured by Bauer while trying to protect the Sangalan Prime Minister. And now I'm being led from a truck into a junkyard where Bauer is ordered to kill me.
"Walk," he commands, his voice behind me being gruff.
I turn to face him. "No, Jack," I say, being surprised at how small and defeated my voice sounded.
"Either you walk, or I drag you." He retorts, his tone low and menacing. He turns me back around, and grudgingly, I walk. I replay every memorable moment of my life, and think about what I'll miss, in my head: my piano recitals, my first kiss, graduation from Harvard Law.
Marriage.
We stop abruptly, causing my thoughts to quickly dissipate. I find that we are standing in front of a small, divot-ditch type of surfacing; perfect for a dead body to hide in. "Turn around," Jack says, using the same, menacing tone he did when we stood at the truck.
I faced him. "No, Jack," I say again, "You're going to have to look me straight in the eye when you pull that trigger." My voice still remained small, but I felt my command slowly creeping back in my phrases.
My last words on this earth.
Jack winces, and lingers. "I said, turn around!" He yells, his voice echoes. He now forces me to turn, and with a hard push from him, my heels make twists in the dirt. I take my final, breaths, thanking God for each and every one of them. I knew I was going to die. I knew how this worked. As I think this, I realize that Jack is lingering; his breath is still on the nape of my neck. "If you trust me, I won't kill you." He whispers, his words entering my head and finding their own foundations in the depths of my mind.
He finally draws away. I hear him as he loads his gun, his sigh once it's finished. Without warning, the sound of a bullet being fired is thrown into the air, and searing pain is coursing through my neck. Playing along, I drop to my knees and roll into the ditch. Smart, I think, enough blood to look like I'm dead, and yet I'm still breathing.
I look up at him, frantically, as he gets the plastic off the ground to cover me. He takes a quick glance to me, and his eyes lock onto mine; instantly, I understand that he's undercover, and that he never betrayed the FBI, or most importantly, me. Before I can think anymore, Jack takes the plastic and whips it out like one would do with bed sheets, and covers me, leaving me a small pocket near my head for air. Looking down at me once more, he gives a small, discreet nod; a symbolic apology.
I listen to his footsteps as he walks away from me, heading to the truck with the Sangalan Prime Minister and his wife. I remain dead-still, and let my thoughts race: if he is undercover, then for whom? How long will I be here for, and have to stay like this? How would I contact Larry, Janice, Sean, or whoever? Would Jack come back for me?
My thoughts are ended by the sound of footsteps approaching me. What the hell? I think, and , my heart begins to thud hard in my chest. I glance up, and see that Jack is holding a shovel, and digging it into the ground. Dammit, I think, and feel a tear leak out of my green eyes. With a pure look of empathy played all over his face, Jack picks up dirt from the mounds surrounding me, and begins to throw the gravel and earth on top of the bag.
He starts at my feet, slowly working his way up my body. Each time he hurled dirt onto me, his eyebrows were curved upward, and he looks as if he's about to cry. As if a switch goes on in my brain, all of my trust for Jack comes flooding back.
Jack finally reaches my neck. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to do the combination of the both, but I know that if I even twitch a certain way, our covers will be blown. With another small, discreet sigh, he throws dirt over my face, wincing while doing so. With a small piece of plastic that dirt hasn't covered yet, I quickly observe my surroundings, trying to take in every detail once someone finds me. But even I knew that I was only doing this out of fear.
He stands over me, holding the shovel filled with dirt, ready to throw over my face and completely cover me. But again, he lingers, and with this time he lets a small, almost microscopic tear roll down his cheek. He throws the dirt on me, and I listen to his footsteps as he walks away. The diesel engine from the truck roars, and I am still here, in a ditch, not daring to make any movements whatsoever.
Let's list all of the things that sucked today.