Where the Wild Things Are
Three: James E. Bristow

Russ chuckled as he stepped into James Bristow's office, catching the head of field operations knee-deep in paperwork.

"James Bristow, head of field operations, holed up in an office doing paperwork," Russ laughed, "I never thought I'd see the day."

Bristow looked up from his stack of forms, an unimpressed look on his face. "Very funny, Russell."

Russ shrugged, his lips twitching with a suppressed smirk. "Well, it's not every day I see you willingly doing paperwork. What's next? You volunteering for desk duty?"

Bristow simply raised an eyebrow, not bothering to dignify the banter with a response. Instead, he pushed himself off the chair, stretching his stiff back, his mind far from office banter.

"Still avoiding our friends downstairs?" Russ's tone lost its levity, his eyes serious as they met Bristow's.

Bristow pinched the bridge of his nose. The evasive games were tiring, but he didn't know how to face them just yet. "They were my colleagues, Russ. As far as they know, Jack Bauer is dead."

Russ studied Bristow for a moment, taking in the steely resolve and tracings of fatigue etched into his friend's features. He could see the internal battle waging behind his colleague's eyes– the strong, resolute field operative Jack Bauer clashing with James Bristow, the man who had left everything behind for the sake of duty.

"James," Russ started, his voice a solemn whisper, "there's no rule book for this kind of situation. I know it's tough, but you don't have to blend those parts of your life together. You just... live. You were Jack Bauer. You are James Bristow. Each phase, each alias... it's all a part of who you are."

Bristow's eyes hardened, but there was an undertone of vulnerability in his gaze as he regarded Russ. Slowly, he nodded – it wasn't a definite agreement, but rather an acceptance of his friend's words. Russ could only hope that he had helped, even if just a little.

"Maybe," Bristow admitted, "But it's best to let Jack Bauer stay dead, Russ."

Russ opened his mouth to argue, to convince Bristow otherwise. But the expression on Bristow's face made him reconsider. Bristow had always been stubborn, but when it came to his past, he was a proverbial wall.

Silence fell between them, Russ accepting the fact that he won't be able to get Bristow to visit the ones in the med bay. At least, not at this moment.

"And besides," James added after a few seconds, "Aren't you supposed to be protecting the secrecy of the DCS, Mr. Director?"

Russ shrugged lightly, his signature smirk back. "Well, as the Director, I can do whatever the hell I want."

Bristow shook his head, a near-invisible smile on his lips. He knew he couldn't stay away forever. It was best to let the past stay in the past, but he also knew that ghosts had a way of resurfacing, usually when you least expected them to.

"What about a partnership with CTU, huh?" Russ pondered out loud his tone teasing, casually leaning against Bristow's desk. "Might teach 'em a thing or two about surviving in the colder parts of the globe."

"We... don't just do survival training, Russ." James fired back, rolling his eyes.

"I know, I know." Russ waved him off, "Covert ops, field intel, the whole nine yards. But still, giving them a broader perspective might not hurt."

"And besides," he continued, a pair of mischievous twinkles lighting up his eyes. "It might get you back in the field again."

Bristow's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "The last thing I need is to get involved with CTU again."

"Oh, c'mon, James. How bad could it possibly be-"

Russ was cut off mid-sentence by Bristow's incredulous laughter. "You're joking right, Russ? You almost shipped me off to Baffin Island for bringing... Chappelle." James pointed vaguely in the direction of the medbay. "-here to fake his death two years ago."

Russ simply shrugged, a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well, I had to make a show of being mad. Protocol and all."

Bristow merely stared at him, his mind whirring as he tried to process Russ's absurd idea. The sheer thought of working with CTU again, facing Ryan Chappelle and the rest of the gang, brought back a torrent of memories.

"And if we're going to bring up protocols, Mr. Bristow – " Russ's grin widened into a full-blown smirk. "-could we bring up how many of CTU's you broke when you faked your death?"

James threw his hands up in exasperation, a wry smile on his face. Leave it to Russ to turn his past into a punchline.

"Alright, Russ. Say we entertain your... insane idea. What's in it for us?"

Russ leaned back, lazily drawing something on the desk with his finger. "Potentially? Everything. New allies, more resources, shared intel. Who knows, maybe even CTU would learn from us and up their game."

There was a certain slant to Russ's smile that suggested he had more cards up his sleeve, but Bristow couldn't put a finger on it right then. He was too wrapped up in the possibility of facing his past and was clearly not looking forward to it.

"I'll think about it, Russ," Bristow finally said, the strained smile on his face indicating his reluctance more than anything else.

Russ nodded, knowing that was as much of a win as he was going to get. The truth was, he was looking forward to what could become of such an alliance. The synergy between the DCS and CTU could mean a safer world - or at least a safer field for agents like Bristow.

But more than that, Russ was simply hoping his friend would find the closure he so evidently needed.

"Swell," Russ smirked, pushing himself off the desk. His eyes met Bristow's in a commanding stare, his next words tipped with a stark seriousness. "But remember, James, you can't outrun your past forever. So, make sure to make peace with it."

With that, Russ left the room, leaving behind a thoughtful James Bristow, contemplating his past, future, and the man he'd become. And for the first time in a long while, the prospect wasn't as daunting. Not with friends like Russ by his side.

After all, as Russ had said, he was both Jack Bauer and James Bristow - two sides of the same coin. Perhaps it was time he started treating them that way.

Dr. Nathan Carter was immersed in his paperwork at his desk, his pen gracefully dancing on a clipboard. Glasses precariously set on the edge of his nose, he embodied the stereotypical bookish physician, great on dictation but short on conversation.

Russ cleared his throat to draw Carter's attention. The doctor looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back of his hand. A faint smile touched Russ's lips. Even amidst a room of rescued spies, some things remained constant.

"Ah, so you've decided to join us, Director McLaughlin?" Carter commented, raising an eyebrow as Russ approached.

"Just wanted to clear up some hearsay," Russ replied, grinning more broadly as Carter rolled his eyes.

Carter grunted and returned his focus to the clipboard on his desk.

Russ then turned his gaze to the rescued group and greeted them, "Bonjour." His attempt at lightheartedness did little to clear the unease in the room.

As he strolled among the beds, their eyes tracked him, full of inquiries. Chloe, Michelle, Tony, and Ryan looked at each other, then back at Russ - wordlessly demanding explanations.

"Let me guess," Russ began, leaning casually against a nearby table. "Carter has been a bit stingy with the details, hasn't he?"

Glancing at the doctor, he was greeted with a low chuckle, "I do love a good mystery, Russ."

Michelle was the first to speak up. "We...aren't exactly certain where we are or how we came here." Her voice was steady, but the pause revealed her confusion.

"Well, you guys turned up on my most recent fishing adventure. You can imagine my astonishment," Russ replied. He chuckled at their looks of bewilderment. Ryan's glare felt sharp enough to skewer him. The inscrutable stare was a trademark of Ryan Chappelle.

"Are you saying our situation is the result of a fishing trip?" Ryan's skepticism was evident in his voice, "And the 'Department of Clandestine Services' is a sector of which Canadian Government branch?"

"Well, we're a bit cosmopolitan that way," Russ replied with a light shrug, enjoying the banter. "Our Head of Field Operations is from the States, and I'm the Dublin guy."

"And why can't you tell us where we are?" Tony asked, leaning forward on his cot slightly.

"Well, that's a matter of security," was Russ's instant reply, "Just know that we'll return you to Vancouver as soon as Doctor Carter signs off on it."

The room lapsed into silence, their faces reflecting an array of reactions - from disbelief to mild amusement. Sensing a break in their conversation, Russ decided to finally reveal his identity.

"Now, as for who I am," Russ said casually, holding out his hand in introduction. "Russell McLaughlin, at your service. Director of the Department of Clandestine Services."

Carter cleared his throat, effectively breaking the stillness. "I half expected to see Bristow with you."

Russ snorted at the reference, "Bristow? Oh, he's taken up a new calling lately."

Their eyes squinted in confusion, prompting Russ to further explain his words. "Our Head of Field Operations seems to have developed a strange fascination with paperwork."

This statement caused Carter to raise a skeptical eyebrow. "Bristow and paperwork? That sounds like the first sign of apocalypse."

The room filled with a mild, tension-lifting laughter. Russ even saw a light smile tugging at the corners of Michelle's lips. The banter seemed to be working, at least for some of them, keeping the air of uncertainty at bay.

Tony, looking intrigued, muttered more to himself than the room at large, "Bristow.. the name seems vaguely familiar."

Russ flashed a knowing grin, aware that Tony was probably recalling Bristow from the CTU days. But he didn't push the matter, not wanting to unravel James' alias.

"In any case," Russ interjected before the silence could settle, "Our grumpy Head of Field Operations would rather bury himself under piles of paperwork than face the likes of you lot."

Carter chuckled at this, giving a dismissive wave of his hand, "Oh, don't mind him. He's always been a bit dramatic."

The little group shared a laugh again, although Ryan's frown only deepened. "This is not a joke," he snapped, crossing his arms, "I demand to know more about this DCS and how we found ourselves here."

Russ, however, seemed unperturbed by the scathing challenge. "Alright then, here's what you need to know," he began, leaning back against the table, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. "Bristow and I were out fishing. A bit of a work-life balance trip, you might say."

The dubious looks around the room didn't seem to bother him. What he said next, however, was enough to halt any interjections. "My Alaskan malamute, Dublin, he's a character. Obsessed with fish. On this particular day, while we were running our lines, he decided to abscond with a fish. Wanted to bury it."

A collective expression of disbelief spread across the faces of his listeners. It was evident they didn't expect the story to take such an unusual turn.

"Now, while Dublin is usually quite skilled at finding the right spot for his 'fishy treasures', on this occasion, his efforts led him to uncover you all," Russ finished, grinning slightly at their surprised responses.

Ryan, visibly incredulous, scoffed at the narrative. "So, you're telling me we literally owe our lives to a dog who has a penchant for stealing fish?"

Russ chuckled lightly, "Well, when you put it that way..."

Chloe, Michelle, and Tony, despite initial skepticism, now wore grins of their own. But Ryan wasn't amused. "And where, pray tell, is this heroic malamute? Should we prepare a medal?" His tone was dripping with sarcasm.

Russ shrugged nonchalantly, "Probably sleeping in my office or hanging with the coms team. As for the medal, he'd probably just bury it."

Ryan stared at Russell, disbelief etching deep lines on his face. "You're saying a dog saved us? Is that your idea of making us look like fools?" His voice echoed the tension brewing in the room. "And you let this so-called 'heroic' mutt roam an official government building?"

Russ simply shrugged, not appearing ruffled by Ryan's growing ire. "Actually," he shared, a slight smirk playing on his lips, "Dublin has a bit of a fan club. The Comms team has taken a liking to him. They even slip him cookies when "they think I'm not looking."

Ryan looked as if he'd been slapped. "You're letting a contingent of solid professionals and operatives treat a canine like some mascot. You're running a government agency like it's a dog park. What kind of director do you think you are?" The disbelief and frustration in his voice amplified tenfold.

With the coolness of a seasoned professional who's seen one too many crisis situations, Russ responded calmly, reframing Ryan's perspective. "Well, in my defense, I believe Dublin is an effective morale booster. And, just to drive home the point, he did manage to find a bunch highly trained counter terrorism agents buried in a snowdrift, even lay with you to keep you warm."

Ryan's face turned a dangerous shade of red, a mixture of disbelief and anger warring for dominance in his expression.

Russ pointedly examined Ryan's flushed face, before adding a jest, "If anything, Chapelle, you owe that mutt a thank you."

Ryan's retort was sharp and swift, "This is not a joke, McLaughlin!"

"Ryan, you need to cool it," Tony urged, raising a pacifying hand, feeling as though the conversation was no longer productive. As unsettled as he was he doubted pissing off their hosts was a good idea.

Yet, Russ wasn't quite done adding fuel to the fire. Nonchalantly leaning against a table with his arms crossed, he looked towards the still-seething Chappelle, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Besides, Chappelle, between you and me, the dog's got a considerably better sense of humour." The ripple of laughter that circled the room did little to cool Ryan's flaring temper. He threw one last jovial salute at the room before strolling to the door, leaving them in Dr. Carter's capable hands.

As the door shut behind Russ and Carter, Ryan's already taut expression curled into one of active agitation. He bristled, fists clenching and unclenching, pacing the small space between the cots in restless strides.

"We can't possibly trust these people, Tony," Ryan snapped, his acidic gaze drifting to Tony. "It's precisely because they're our 'hosts' that we should question anything they choose to tell us."

Tony folded his arms, shaking his head as he watched Ryan pace. He exhaled, speaking measuredly, "Picking fights, Ryan, with people who just pulled us out of a situation we don't even remember? Not the smartest move."

"I don't recall asking for your agreement," Ryan retorted, his anger surging, but Tony remained unperturbed.

"Ryan," Michelle interjected softly. She had remained quiet until now, observing the escalating argument with a thoughtful frown. "It's not about whether we agree with you or not. It's about being careful, strategic."

Ryan turned his eyes to her, the tension lining his forehead easing slightly. Michelle always had a way of cutting through his bluster with her calm reason.

"And how do you propose we do that?" Ryan asked, his tone still sharp but less biting now.

"By not openly antagonizing our hosts, to start," Michelle responded calmly, moving across the room to stand in front of Ryan. "We don't know anything yet. Not about who we are up against, not about where we are, and not about who we can trust. Hell, we don't even know how we ended up here."

Ryan looked as though he wanted to argue, but the fight seemed to drain from him. He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking, but he nodded his agreement, albeit begrudgingly.

"All I'm saying is," Michelle continued, now holding Ryan's gaze, "we need to tread carefully. The last thing we want to do is turn potential friends into enemies."

"He's right, Ryan," Tony chimed in, softer this time, "We're in a game with half a deck right now. Let's not fold before we've even seen all the cards."

Ryan exhaled, pressing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He sighed irritably, the lines on his forehead a testament to the tension he was feeling. But he nodded, reluctantly conceding to their points.

"I just…" he faltered, looking almost lost, "I just hate feeling like we're cornered."

"No one likes it, Ryan," Michelle said gently. "But for now, patience is our best weapon. Let's use it."

As the room descended into a contemplative silence, a unanimous agreement was reached. Frustration would have to take a backseat in favor of strategic patience. At least for now.

As the clock ticked into the night's silence, Tony made a decision. His instincts and years of training as a field agent propelled him forward, fully aware that he was about to venture headfirst into uncertainty.

The first step was the hardest, the icy coolness of the floor sending a shiver up his spine. But determination won over discomfort, and he silently navigated through the dim room towards the entrance. His heart pounded against his ribcage, each beat mirroring the ticking of the clock which was his only companion in the stillness of the night.

Michelle, Chloe, and Ryan, despite their trying encounter with agency's so called Director seemed to have drifted off into sleep, or at least the pretense of it. Tony glanced at Michelle once more, guilt mingling with a strange sense of relief. If all went well, he'd be able to put their restless minds at ease. If not... well, he preferred not to think about that.

As he laid a tentative hand on the doorknob, he took one last look at the quiet med bay. He needed answers and doing the very thing he had talked Ryan out of was a small trade-off if it meant they'd be one step closer to the truth.

Tony's heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline surging through his veins as he slipped out of the med bay undetected. He stuck to the darkened corridors, avoiding the odd late-night worker, moving with the stealth his training had drilled into him. He ignored the lingering weakness in his limbs, the slightly unsteady rhythm of his heart - both reminders of their recent ordeal. Focus was key, and Tony possessed it in abundance.

Eventually, he found himself standing outside an office, the brass nameplate gleaming in the dim light: 'James E. Bristow'. A sense of familiarity prickled at his senses. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, its occupant's back towards the entrance. "Quite resourceful for someone who was half-frozen hours ago," a familiar voice echoed through the silence. The man spun his chair around to face Tony, his face caught in the soft glow of the desk lamp.

Time stood still for Tony as he looked into the face of a man he believed was dead - Jack Bauer. Tony's shock was evident in his widened eyes and slackened jaw. He took a step back, disbelief forcing him to question his sanity.

Seeing his reaction, 'Jack' released a heavy sigh and then offered a wry smile. It was a sight - Jack Bauer smiling.

"I'd have thought Carter would have slept on the job around 3," his comment was laced with amusement, but his gaze was steady on Tony. "Took you longer than I expected."

Tony couldn't manage a word, the shock of seeing Jack Bauer- Bristow alive was still reverberating in his system. Eventually, he stuttered out, "You... y-you're alive."

He watched as Bristow leaned back into his chair, the weight of secrets and a double life shadowing his hard features. "Yes, Tony, I am," he admitted simply. "Alive and doing what I've always been best at - field ops, but just for a different agency."

Tony blinked, still trying to process. "DCS?"

Bristow nodded, confirming Tony's hushed whisper, "Yes, Tony. I was always with the Department of Clandestine Services, even during my time at the CTU. I understand your confusion, but I assure you, all I ever did, I did to protect."

The tension thickened as Tony registered Bristow's revelation. And as the silence stretched, Bristow patiently waited, all too aware of the turmoil Tony must be undergoing. Ghosts from the past were not exactly the easiest to deal with. He would know.

Bristow, formerly the infamous Jack Bauer watched as Tony tried to grasp the profound shock of the revelation. His body language spoke volumes of the internal war he was waging – the disbelief battling against the irrefutable truth right in front of him. The bewildered expression on his face was a mirror to what Bristow had felt years ago when he had been inducted into this double life.

Despite the chaos in Tony's eyes, Bristow had to admire his resilience. Even when thrown into disarray, he was attempting to navigate the storm. The years of training and survivals kicked in, even when the enemy was not a threat, but a friend.

"I… I found your dead body, Jack," Tony finally managed to break the silence, his voice hardened against emotions, but the slight quiver betrayed him, "I thought… I thought I lost you."

Bristow noted the lingering torment in Tony's words, showcasing the raw wounds of his supposed death. He still remembered the day his 'death' was faked; the heavy heart he carried that day was still fresh in his memory.

"I know, Tony." Bristow calmly answered, his quiet voice trying to pacify the storm within Tony, "It was… It was a necessity."

Tony shot him a look, a blend of anger, confusion, and betrayal. "Necessity? You think faking your death, making your friends – your family – mourn for you was a necessity?"

Emotions stirred within Bristow as he looked at Tony - a man he had trained, fought and almost died with numerous times. He knew his explanation was far from justifying the truth Tony must be grappling with.

"Yes, Tony, it was." He stressed, watching as Tony's demeanor hardened, "I understand your anger, really. Had I been in your place, I'd probably have the same reaction."

"Probably?" Tony snapped, pacing the room, his anger palpable. "You have no idea, Jack – the confusion I went through, the guilt…"

Bristow looked at Tony, suddenly realizing the depth of his suffering. He had not intended for any of this upon them, especially not to this extent. Faking his death was part of a larger plan, a plan to ensure the safety of CTU, but he had not considered the personal implications it would have on people close to him.

"I… I didn't realize." He lamented, his gaze dropping momentarily to the floor before he locked eyes with Tony again, "Creating Jack Bauer, assuming your roles in CTU, all of it, was a part of a carefully orchestrated plan to ensure the security of CTU and the States. It was a casualty of war that was inevitable."

There was silence as both men mulled over their respective thoughts. Tony looked away, his anger slowly replaced with a sense of understanding. But Bristow knew - it was a long road ahead for both of them, filled with more explanations, more confessions.

Bristow continued looking at Tony, his gaze filled with a kind of resigned patience. He understood all too well the whirlwind of emotions Tony must be going through - disbelief, shock, anger, betrayal. It was only natural, only human.

"The world of espionage, Tony… it's a lot bigger than we'd been led to believe during our time at CTU," he finally broke the silence, his voice steady against the tension in the room. "More dangerous, more fluid, and more lethal."

Tony narrowed his eyes, absorbing Bristow's words. He still seemed uncertain, or rather, unwilling to believe, but he kept his silence, a silent invitation for Bristow to continue his explanation.

"We needed someone... The DCS needed someone who'd have the guts, the brains and the skills to respond to threats without being constantly tethered to protocols and rules," Bristow paused, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he remembered how the persona of Jack Bauer had been created. "Someone who would take the external threats head on and defeat them in their own game while maintaining a semblance of normality on the surface."

Tony's eyes widened as realization dawned on him. "Jack Bauer..."

Bristow chuckled, the sound hollow but genuine. "Yes, Tony. Jack Bauer."

Playing the arduous role of Jack Bauer had been a headache, a storm and a cure, all rolled into one. The CTU had been his home, his camouflage, while he played a deadlier game in the shadows. He'd lived a double life, balancing the threads of espionage carefully while never tipping the scales.

"Jack Bauer was able to do just that," he said, his voice laced with a certain pride, "And, in the process, kept CTU and its constituents safe - even when they didn't know the extent of the danger."

He looked at Tony, allowing him to digest this information. He knew he'd dropped one too many bombshells tonight, but Tony had a right to know. The moment of truth had been a long time coming, and as they say, better late than never.

"They always say truth is stranger than fiction, eh Tony?" He smirked, the layers of implications hidden beneath his words hanging in the charged air, "Ironically, in our world, they might just be the same thing."

The irony of those words left Tony speechless.

"To be honest, Jack - or should I say Bristow?" Tony asked, needing to understand, "Did we... did we mean anything to you at all? Or were we just pieces on your chessboard - expendable when needed?"

James looked at Tony, the raw pain in his voice was not lost on him. He took a deep breath before answering, his voice solemn. "You, and every single person at CTU, meant more to me than you could probably understand, Tony. You weren't just colleagues. You are my friends... "

Bristow's voice trailed off, raw emotion clinging to every word, lending a rare glimpse into the man beneath the professional exterior. The logic of their reality had ended up hurting people he cared about, people he considered family.

His confession hung heavily in the room, stretching the palpable silence even further. Tony glanced at Bristow - the man he had mourned, the man he had looked up to, the man he thought he had known was much more complicated than he had ever imagined.

"Do you regret it, Jack?" Tony startled Bristow with a stark question. "Do you regret leaving behind Jack Bauer? Leaving us behind?"

Bristow contemplated the question before answering. "Do I regret my actions as Jack Bauer? Sometimes. But what I regret the most is... "

He faltered, trying to find the right words.

"I regret not being able to say goodbye, not being able to explain... not being able to be there for you and the others when you needed me."

Tony blinked back the tears that had welled up, nodding as he steadied his emotions. There was a lot to process, and part of him still struggled to reconcile this version of Jack Bauer with the one he had known and respected at CTU.

"Jack-" Tony began, only to be gently interrupted by Bristow.

"James. It's James Bristow now, Tony."

"James," Tony took a moment to let the new name - the real name - sink in. "James, I need to know… Why are we here? Were we just collateral damage?"

Bristow shook his head, his voice gentle as he explained. "No, Tony. You and the others... you were never just collateral."

The simple admission, intended to calm, served only to reignite the turmoil inside Tony. He was no stranger to the twisting plots of espionage, but now he found himself caught in a whirlwind with no exit in sight.

A heavy sigh pierced the tense silence. Tony looked at Bristow, his guarded eyes reflecting an untold story of pain and sacrifice. He had seen sides of Bristow that few had - the compassionate leader, the ruthless agent, the selfless friend.

And now, he also saw the haunted past that clung to him like a shadow.

Bristow looked at Tony, his eyes holding an unspoken promise of honesty. There were still countless secrets to unveil, countless wounds to heal. But he knew that they would face them – together – like they had the many challenges during their time at CTU.

"I promise, Tony," he said softly, the underlying conviction in his voice ringing with truth, "I'll explain everything – why you're here, why you had to go through what you did. And I'll try, to the best of my ability, to make amends."

The room fell quiet once more, this time, however, filled with a fresh hope, a sense of new beginnings. Despite the bittersweet origin of their reunion, Bristow felt a surge of relief at having finally broken past his chained secrets.