Bloodline
One:Agent Alexander Cartwright
With the morning light filtering through the blinds, Jack made his way to the kitchen. He moved with the precision of a man who orchestrated his life by the minute, even during unforeseen situations like the one he found himself in now. Frying eggs and flipping toast, Jack created a routine morning atmosphere despite the disquieting events of the night before.
Steeling himself, Jack picked up the phone, dialed the familiar number of CTU Los Angeles, and waited as the call connected.
Tony's voice came through the line, familiar and laced with the edge of stress. "Almeida."
"Tony, it's Jack. I need to take a sick day."
There was a pause, and Jack could picture the confused furrow of Tony's brow. "A sick day? Are you okay?"
Jack managed a chuckle. "I'm fine, Tony. Really, it's just...something I ate. I'll be back on my feet by tomorrow."
"Sounds like you're dodging Chappelle's policy review meeting," Tony remarked, the amusement in his voice barely veiling his jealousy.
"You caught me," Jack admitted, the irony not lost on him. "How are things holding up over there?"
"Chappelle's up everyone's ass about the new protocol revisions, and Chloe's just being... Chloe. Deciding which protocols apply to her, and which she can ignore."
Jack let out a hearty laugh. "Some things never change. If you could, let Chappelle know I'm out, and I'll catch up on the revisions as soon as I'm back," Jack requested.
"Will do, Jack. Hey, before you go, Michelle wants to know if you want her to drop off some soup?"
In the background, Jack heard Michelle's concerned voice. "Jack, if you're sick, I can bring some chicken soup over. It'll help."
"No need to fuss, Michelle. I appreciate it, but I'll manage. Give me a shout if anything urgent comes up," Jack said, trying to keep his voice light.
"Get better, Jack," Tony's voice softened. "We need you back in here."
Hanging up, Jack turned back to find Alex sitting at the kitchen table, his expression a mix of curiosity and longing at the mention of his parents' voices.
Jack set a plate in front of him. "Eat up. You'll need your strength."
Alex picked at the food, his appetite waning despite the inviting smell. "I "I can't believe I heard him—my dad, and Michelle... They're just..." Alex's voice trailed off, a tremor of awe and disbelief in his words as he looked up at Jack.
"They're just a phone call away for me," Jack said, grasping the gravity of the situation for Alex. "But it's different for you. I can't even imagine."
"Yeah, it's... surreal," Alex agreed, the word failing to encompass the storm of emotions he felt. The reality he had known was now a dream he couldn't touch.
Jack leaned back in his chair, watching Alex. "Listen, I've been thinking," he started, an idea formulating in his mind. "We should bring Chloe O'Brien into this."
Alex looked up from his plate, his fork mid-air. "Director O'Brien?"
Jack's expression shifted to one of surprise and curiosity. "Director? Chloe?"
Alex set his fork down, nodding slowly. "In my time, Chloe is the Director of CTU. She's... well, still Chloe, but she's earned a lot of respect."
Jack whistled softly, the thought of Chloe in the director's chair both astounding and oddly fitting. "Well, that's... something. Here and now, she's one of the best IT analysts we've got. Bit of a lone wolf, but she's brilliant. If anyone can rig up some credentials for you, it's her."
It was Alex's turn to look amazed, the past and future versions of Chloe merging in his mind. "Credentials... right. I'll need those if I'm going to blend in."
For a moment, the two men sat in silence, the past straining against the fabric of the present.
Jack's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Alex's troubled face. "What is it?"
Alex exhaled deeply, his shoulders dropping. "I can't stop thinking about Emily. Last thing I did was leave her a note, saying I'd be back soon. Now I'm stuck almost forty years in the past." His voice was hoarse with worry and guilt.
Jack nodded, understanding the magnitude of Alex's concern. "We'll find a way to handle this, Alex. First step is getting you those credentials. Then we can strategize your next move. You're not alone in this."
"I know. I just... It's hard not to think about her waking up, finding me gone," Alex murmured.
"Let's take it one step at Jack offered a reassuring nod, trying to instill confidence in Alex. "You left her a note. That means she won't immediately assume the worst."
Alex took a breath as if to speak but exhaled slowly instead, his fears momentarily suppressed by Jack's logic. "So, we get Chloe to make me a cover?"
"Exactly," Jack confirmed, pushing his chair back and standing. "I'll explain the situation to her in a way that doesn't sound like science fiction. Chloe's good with secrets, and she knows the importance of trust. If anyone at CTU can keep a lid on this, it's her."
Alex managed a weak smile, the semblance of a plan serving to anchor his spiraling thoughts. "I've seen her work in the field, seen how far she can go. I guess Director O'Brien was born from all those qualities you're talking about."
Jack started clearing the breakfast dishes, his movements deliberate, belying the wheels turning in his head. "No doubt. And Chloe's never been one for the spotlight, so moving up the ranks in your time must've taken some unusual circumstances. I always knew she had the talent for it."
"Yeah," Alex responded, his tone growing more animated in spite of his situation. "She even gave a speech once about how you pushed her to recognize her capabilities."
Jack raised an eyebrow at the idea of Chloe giving a speech—a far cry from the brusque, practically antisocial tech wizard he knew in 2004. But he let the surprise pass. "Well, I better call her now, before she gets buried under today's crisis at CTU."
As Jack reached for the phone, Alex spoke up, his voice tinged with urgency. "Jack, how can I ever repay you for helping me with this? I know I'm a stranger to you—"
"Stop," Jack interjected. "You're not a stranger. You might not be my Alex, but if there's even a chance of what you're saying being true, then I'm helping family."
Alex nodded, touched by the depth of Jack's commitment. The digital photos on his smartphone meant more to Jack than he was willing to admit out loud.
Jack picked up the phone, dialing the digits that connected him to CTU's operations. After a series of clicks and familiar connections, the direct line to Chloe O'Brien rang through.
"O'Brien." Chloe's voice rang through the receiver, brusque as always, signaling she was likely buried in code or dealing with a firewall she'd decided was more a suggestion than a requirement.
"Chloe, I need a favor," Jack said without preamble.
There was a pause, a rarity from Chloe who usually had a retort ready for anything. "A favor? That's not really our usual conversation starter."
"It's not work-related. Or, not directly," Jack amended quickly, considering Alex's situation.
A heavy sigh came blaring through the phone. "I have protocols, procedures—I can't just drop everything because you suddenly believe in social niceties, Jack."
Jack couldn't help the twitch of a smile at Chloe's typical lack of patience for beating around the bush. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. Can you stop by my place after work? It's... personal."
There was another silence, then a muttered grumble, both quintessentially Chloe. "Fine. But this better be good, Jack. You're asking me to ignore my professional duties, just to—"
"It's good, Chloe," Jack interrupted, the weight of his tone leaving no room for further debate. "It's something you need to see for yourself."
A huff, then a reluctant, "Okay. After my shift. But if this is some weird mid-life crisis thing, I'm not interested."
Jack let out a soft chuckle, imagining the look of mild distaste that would be on Chloe's face. "It's not a crisis. But thanks, Chloe. I owe you one."
"A big one," she deadpanned before hanging up.
Jack set the receiver down and turned to Alex, who'd been watching the interaction with taut apprehension. "She'll be here after work. We have to wait it out. In the meantime, we've got a lot of ground to cover , Alex. I'll make sure we're ready to brief her when she arrives."
Jack cleared the empty breakfast plates from the table and motioned for Alex to follow him into the living room.
"We've got a few hours before Chloe gets here. Let's cover some basics about 2004," Jack said, perching himself on the edge of an armchair. "Things have definitely changed by your time, so we'll need to get you up to speed."
Alex nodded, taking a seat and focusing on Jack with an unsettling intensity. He appeared ready to absorb every anachronism that Jack could conjure.
"First things first," Jack began, "Let's talk about technology. Cell phones exist, clearly, but they aren't anywhere near as advanced as that device you've brought along."
He pointed at the smartphone Alex had been carrying, a sleek, odd gadget that bore no resemblance to the clunky Nokia that Jack owned. "People text and call, but that's about it. There's no facial recognition or touch screen. No paying with your phone either. When you're out there, if you need to make a call, find a payphone."
"A payphone?" Alex repeated, a quizzical look crossing his face as if he'd just heard an ancient term from a forgotten language.
Jack nodded. "Yeah, you know, a phone booth. You drop coins in it to make calls."
"Fascinating," Alex muttered. "What a primitive time."
"Hey," Jack chided with a good-natured smirk. "It worked just fine for us. Remember, no tapping on your device out in public either. It'll draw attention."
Alex held up his hands, a look of mock surrender on his face. "Got it. No futuristic tech displays."
"Good. Now, let's talk transportation. There are no automated cars. Driving requires full attention – manual operation at all times. And no, the cars won't park themselves."
The idea seemed to bring a new level of dread to Alex's expression. "You're telling me every vehicle has a human driver? How do you manage the traffic accidents?"
Jack chuckled. "Same as we always have. Eyes on the road and a healthy sense of fear."
"Outstanding," Alex murmured, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Onto media. Newspapers are still a thing. Physical papers that get delivered to your doorstep," Jack said, tossing an example onto the table between them.
Alex picked it up, flipping through the pages as if touching a relic. "Incredible. And all these stories, people read them rather than having algorithms push news at them?"
"Exactly," Jack nodded. "And get this, people still go to stores to rent movies on something called DVDs—no instant streaming."
Alex looked utterly flummoxed. "So if I wanted to watch an old movie..."
"You'd go to a place called Blockbuster, walk through aisles of DVDs, pick one, and pay to take it home for a couple of nights," Jack explained, relishing the absurdity in Alex's eyes.
"Like a library? But for movies?" Alex asked, trying to wrap his head around the concept.
"Precisely," Jack affirmed. "And music, let's not forget music. CDs are still big, MP3 players are around. If you wanted a mix of songs, you'd burn a CD."
"Burn a CD?" Alex laughed outright at that. "How very... medieval."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, kid," Jack smiled. "Now, what else? Ah, dress code! No one knew about tech fabric or whatever you're wearing. Stick to cotton, denim, the basics."
Alex scrutinized his clothes like they were suddenly alien. "Copy that. Dress primitive."
Jack laughed. "That's not the word I'd use, but sure. You also need to lose the lingo. Words change over years; what's common for you might not exist yet here. No talking about 'cloud computing,' 'cryptocurrency,' or 'social media influencers.'"
"So, stick to talking about DVDs, Blockbuster, and burning music. No futuristic jargon. Got it," Alex confirmed.
"And money. Credit cards are widely used. You hand over your card, they swipe it. Or you pay with cash."
"Physical money," Alex said as if reminding himself such a thing still existed. "Pieces of paper that actual humans hold value in."
"It's called cash," Jack corrected with a smile playing on his lips. "And, information isn't at your fingertips. Research often involves something ancient called a 'library' and lots of patience."
Alex's eyebrows shot up. "And here I thought reading physical newspapers was archaic."
"You have a lot to re-learn about being a little less futuristic and a lot more turn-of-the-millennium," Jack conceded, trying to suppress a grin at Alex's astounded reactions.
"Okay, simpler times," Alex summarized, his tone one of mock solemnity. "I feel like I should be taking notes with pen and paper, maybe send them to myself by carrier pigeon for authenticity."
Jack let out a genuine laugh, enjoying the camaraderie that was beginning to form despite the bizarre circumstances. "Don't forget, dial-up internet is still pretty common, too. None of that high-speed broadband you're used to. So if you ever need to use the internet, be prepared for the sweet serenade of modem screeching."
Alex looked horror-stricken. "You mean that eeee-aaah-urrrrr sound that comes before you can access the World Wide Web? I thought that was just a myth!"
"Oh, it's real. And your patience will be tried," Jack said, amusement lighting his weary features.
Alex leaned back, his mind clearly spinning with the deluge of outdated information. "And what's the social scene like? I mean, how do people even meet up without social networks?"
Jack tilted his head, recalling the way things used to be. "You call your friends on their house line—or if they're on the go, on their mobile phone. Might take a few tries to get hold of them. Oh, and a lot of the time, we just...make plans in advance. Shocking, I know."
"That's so...inefficient," Alex remarked, taking a moment to let the concept sink in. "And if someone's running late, you just wait and hope they show up?"
"Pretty much. No instant messaging to update on your ETA. It's all about trust—and punctuality."
Alex's eyes widened in mock terror. "You were savages," he said, deadpan.
Jack snorted, shaking his head. "Well, this 'savage' is going to teach you how to blend in perfectly."
The discussion went on for a while, Jack detailing little bits of 2004 culture that would help Alex integrate, while Alex marveled at a world that seemed both simpler and more complex in unexpected ways. They discussed popular TV shows, slang that had long since gone out of style, and the lack of omnipresent surveillance technology.
Alex, for his part, caught on quickly, his adaptability evident even through the haze of his disbelief. Jack found himself laughing more than he had in years, the tension eased by the absurdity of teaching someone from 40 years in the future how everyday life works in the early 2000s. Despite the complexity of the situation, there was something undeniably fun about revisiting the quirks of a bygone era.
As the day waned on, Jack made sure to hammer home the importance of subtle details.
"No GPS," Jack pointed out. "We use maps, physical ones—or good old intuition."
"Right, so no asking Siri or Alexa for directions," Alex chuckled.
"Who are Siri and Alexa?" Jack inquired.
"Voice-activated AI assistants from my time." Alex saw the blank look on Jack's face and added, "Oh, right, they don't exist yet. Never mind."
After what felt like hours of incessant 21st-century trivia, Jack concluded the impromptu history lesson. "Think you can pass for an early-2000s guy?"
Alex nodded with a mixture of confidence and faux bravado. "Yeah, Jack. I think I'm ready to party like it's 1999—wait, we're past that, right?"
Jack let out a grunt of laughter. "Just a bit. But you're getting the hang of it. You might just survive 2004 yet."
Their laughter filled the room, a human connection thriving in the midst of uncertainty, bridging two timelines with the enduring power of camaraderie and the shared perplexity of a simpler, yet complicated world.
As the orange hues of the sunset filtered through his blinds, Chloe knocked on the door with her own brand of impatient authority, and Jack opened it promptly.
"Jack, what the hell is so important that it couldn't—" Chloe started to say, but Jack cut her off.
"Chloe, I need you to listen and keep an open mind," he said, guiding her into the living room, where Alex sat, trying to look as inconspicuous as one could in a situation like his.
"This is completely unprofessional, Jack. Having me come to your house? For what? Some sort of game?" Chloe's annoyance was clear.
Jack rolled his eyes. "This isn't a game, Chloe. This is Alex Almeida. Tony's and Michelle's son."
Chloe stared at Jack, then at Alex, her eyes widening with confusion. "What? That's impossible. They don't have a son. Is this some kind of prank? Because it's not funny, Jack."
"I'm afraid it's no prank," Jack replied, before turning to Alex. "Show her your badge."
Alex handed Chloe his futuristic badge, and she examined it with a furrowed brow, her instincts as a data analyst kicking in. The authenticity of the material and the advanced tech embedded in the ID were unmistakable but implausible.
"You're kidding," Chloe muttered, shaking her head, the badge still in her hands. Without a word, Alex nodded, understanding that extraordinary claims required extraordinary evidence.
Chloe, looking askance, made for the door, her patience for what she considered a breach of professionalism at its end. "I don't have time for this, Jack. If this is a joke, it's in very poor taste."
Before she could grab the knob, Jack was by her side, his hand gently but firmly closing over hers to stop her. "Chloe, hold on. Please, just take a second and really look at him," Jack implored. "Don't look at the ID or the tech. Just look at Alex."
With reluctance, Chloe's gaze shifted to meet Alex's eyes. For a moment, there was silence as she studied his features, the shape of his face, the set of his jawline; and then his eyes. Something about them was unmistakably familiar, the way they held her gaze with a mixture of urgency and a quiet desperation.
"Tony's eyes," Chloe murmured, almost to herself, as realization began to dawn upon her.
Feeling the shift in her skepticism, Alex chose that moment to explain. "I know how this must seem, Chloe. But I'm telling the truth. I'm from the future, 2040. I don't know how, but I've been sent back to 2004, to... well, to now."
Unable to fully process the claim yet unable to outright dismiss the sincerity in Alex's voice, Chloe said nothing. She was still a skeptic at heart, needing concrete facts over compelling eyes.
That's when Alex took out his smartphone from 2040. Displaying the large interactive holograms that sprang to life from the phone's screen, the projection filled the room with floating images and data like a scene out of a science fiction film.
Chloe's eyes widened, her mouth opened slightly, both stunned and intrigued. Her analytical mind couldn't deny the evidence right in front of her.
Chloe crossed her arms, squinting her eyes skeptically at Alex. "This is insane. Time travel? Really?"
Alex leaned forward, his face a mask of earnest vulnerability. "I know how it sounds, Chloe. I'd be skeptical too, but... here I am." He spread his hands wide as if presenting himself as evidence.
Jack watched the interplay closely, his instincts telling him that Chloe was their best shot at making sense out of nonsense. "Chloe, I wouldn't have called you here if I didn't believe his story," he interjected. "We have to dig into this, look at every angle. If there's anyone who can help us uncover the truth, it's you."
Chloe looked from Jack to Alex, her eyes narrowing as she processed their words. She'd built a career on facts, logic, and incontrovertible data. This narrative defied all of that. And yet, her instinct for the extraordinary, the outlier events that make or break their shared line of work, tuned her to the odd harmony in their tone.
"So, let's assume for a moment I'm buying into this," Chloe asked, still hovering in the doorway uncertainly. "What's the plan? Hide out until you, I don't know, zap back to your time?"
"It's not like I can just punch my time-card and head back to 2040," Alex said, a touch of desperation edging into his voice. "I don't even know how I got here. The last thing I remember is that explosion, then waking up in the past. Jack's place—well, your present."
Chloe sighed and took off her coat, a sign she was conceding to involvement. "You mentioned technology. Show me what you've got."
Alex retrieved his smartphone again, and the daylight-bright holograms filled the living room. Chloe circulatively circled the floating images, reaching out tentatively to prod a virtual file that responded with a fluid animation, expanding to reveal more data.
"Okay," she breathed out, a sliver of wonderment breaking through her professional façade. "This is... beyond anything we have right now."
"Beyond doesn't even start to cover it," Jack muttered.
Chloe turned to him, her analytical mind already racing ahead. "If this tech is real, and it obviously is, then his story holds water. This could be huge, Jack. Catastrophic time paradoxes, shifts in the timeline—we're talking science fiction becoming reality. And we've got no protocol for this."
"You think I don't know that?" Jack replied, his eyes dark with concern. "But right now, we need to find a way to get Alex back to his time safely. And until then, keep him and this tech hidden. If the wrong people find out..."
Alex ran a hand through his hair, looking tired but wired with adrenaline all the same. "I can't just sit around, though. There has to be something we can do—to figure this out."
Chloe was already pacing, flipping through the facts and fictions of their predicament. "We'll need to cover your tracks. If CTU finds out we're harboring a—what? A temporal refugee?—we'll all be in a world of trouble."
Jack nodded. "That's why I called you, Chloe. I need you on this. I trust you."
As the palpable tension left in the wake of Chloe's acceptance diffused, Jack resumed the mantle of command. "We need to get you a new identity that won't raise any red flags. Alexander Cartwright." He declared, addressing Alex with a new alias that sounded foreign yet would need to become familiar.
Chloe, now fully engaged, leaned forward, her mind already piecing together the aspects of a functional cover. "Okay but Cartwright has to check out. I can backdate some records, create an employment history—make it look like he's been at the Denver branch for the past couple of years."
Alex, still absorbing the surreal nature of their strategy, nodded slowly but with a spark of resistance in his eyes. "But I'm used to field ops. That's where my skills are. Data analysis..."
Jack cut him off, the calculated risk of their situation apparent in his voice. "I don't want you anywhere near field ops right now, Alex. Not until we have a better handle on this situation. You need to be in a role where you're part of the background. We can't have you standing out too much."
Chloe was already typing on her laptop, creating Alexander Cartwright's digital footprint. "It'll be safer this way," she added, echoing Jack's caution. "And less likely to trigger any... temporal complications."
Alex acquiesced, though the notch in his brows conveyed a clear discomfort with his sidelined position. "Fine. So, I'm an analyst transfer from Denver. What's my story?"
"Single, no attachments. It's cleaner. You came to CTU Los Angeles looking for more challenging assignments. Your credentials will be impeccable, and nobody will second-guess them," Chloe described, the click-clack of her keyboard providing the backdrop to their clandestine operation.
"We have to keep Tony, Michelle, and everyone else at CTU out of the loop on this," Jack said after a moment of thought. "It complicates things."
Chloe looked up, hesitating for the first time since they'd committed to their course. "That might be harder than we think."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
She chewed on her lip, glancing at Alex. "Because he looks a lot like Tony. People might notice the resemblance."
Alex sighed, running a hand along his jawline. "Great, so I'm supposed to integrate without drawing attention, but my face is a dead giveaway?"
Jack contemplated for a moment then stood abruptly, scanning the room for something—anything—that might help them mitigate the exposure risk. His eyes landed on the advanced AR glasses Alex had shown them earlier, abandoned on the coffee table amongst the tangle of holograms still hovering in the air. With a quick stride, he picked them up.
"Put these on," he instructed, sliding them back across the table toward Alex.
Alex, taken aback by the abrupt gesture, hesitated before reaching out and gingerly picking up the sleek glasses. "What, these? They're just AR tech, nothing special by our standards." His voice sounded hollow with skepticism, but he paused, then placed them on his face.
Chloe sat back, her expression one of appraisal as she watched the frames settle onto Alex's features. "Actually, that helps. It softens the resemblance, adds an air of nerdiness that Tony doesn't have."
Jack surveyed Alex critically, nods slowly. "Look professional. Like an analyst. It changes your profile—makes you less... Almeida and more Cartwright."
Alex reached up, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the frames on his bridge of his nose, adjusting to the idea of hiding in plain sight behind technology that, in his time, was ordinary. "I'm going to have to get used to these."
"You'll manage," Jack said with a firm note. "We need you cognizant of how delicate this is. Someone recognizing you could lead to questions we can't answer."
"And you'll be doing important work, even behind a desk," Chloe added, intent on bolstering Alex's spirits. "Your knowledge of the future could give you insight we'd never consider."
Jack stood by the window, his gaze cast out into the coming night. "The fewer people who know, the better. It's for everyone's safety—yours, ours, and theirs." He indicated Tony and Michelle without naming them, infusing the empty space with their unspoken presence.
"But how will we explain my sudden appearance? Transfers aren't common without notice." Alex's question hung in the air, a logical problem seeking a solution.
"Leave that to me," Chloe replied confidently, though the task ahead was far from simple. "I'll forge an email from the Denver office. A recommendation from their CTU director—under the radar. It'll hold up against cursory checks."
Alex nodded, his expression reflective and bemused. "Guess I'm Alexander Cartwright, data analyst. Just a normal guy."
"That's the spirit," Jack encouraged. "And remember, your role is crucial. You're the eyes and ears within CTU without being a visible threat or anomaly. You have training and skills that may become necessary, but we need to play the long game here."
Chloe's fingers danced across the keys, her face illuminated by the glow of the laptop screen. "I'm creating a false trail of emails and documents that'll cover the last two years. Backdated performance reviews, a couple of commendations for good measure. Paperwork is part of the CTU lifeblood, and no one will question a steady stream of bland excellence."
Alex quirked a smile despite the gravity of their circumstances. "Bland excellence. Sounds like a dream."
"It's a cover," Jack reminded him. "Your mission isn't just to return to your time but to live without altering the course of events here. Everything you do, every interaction—keep thinking about consequences."
Alex sobered at the reminder, the weight of each potential ripple through time becoming more real to him by the second. "I get it. No butterfly effects, no stepping on ants—historically speaking."
"I've got the transfer authorization almost ready," Chloe announced, still typing. "I can spoof an email from a server I set up that looks like it's coming from the Denver branch. It'll have all the formalities, won't raise any alarms."
Jack paced slowly in front of the dark window, hands clasped behind his back. "This isn't going to be just a quick fix, Alex. We're in this for the long haul, and it will take effort and vigilance on all our parts. You're in uncharted territory, and so are we."
Alex took off the AR glasses, looking at Jack with a solid sense of resolve in his eyes. "I might be trained for field ops, but I'm also trained to adapt. I'll do what I have to do."
"That's what I like to hear," Jack said with a curt nod. "Alright, Chloe, how soon can Cartwright be introduced to CTU officially?"
"Give me another hour to finalize everything. By tomorrow morning, Alexander Cartwright will exist in the CTU personnel database, complete with a photo ID, access codes, and login credentials," she replied.
Alex put the AR glasses back on and adjusted them with newfound respect. "Tomorrow, then. Day one of the rest of my life. Or, well, this life, anyway."
Chloe closed her laptop, a resolute click accompanying the command to save her work. "We'll start with briefings on current operations, historical context—all the mundane things Cartwright would need to know as part of his job." She swiveled her chair to face them both. "Just remember, don't get too comfortable. This is temporary, a means to an end."
Jack met her gaze with a silent nod of appreciation, the unspoken understanding between them tangible in the quiet room. "Thanks, Chloe. And Alex," Jack continued, turning to the man who was grappling with an identity that was both a lifeline and a lie. "I know this isn't easy, or fair, but it's necessary. We will find a way to reverse this."
Alex let the weight of the glasses on his face serve as a grounding force, a touchstone of his commitment to the role he was about to play. "Understood. I won't let you down."
Chloe packed up her laptop and stood, stretching her back. "Alright, I'll send the files to your encrypted email, Jack. Cross-reference them, make sure everything looks legitimate."
Jack gave her a two-fingered salute as she gathered her belongings. "With you on keyboard duty, I have no doubt it's tight as can be."
The mood was business-like, but beneath the surface bubbled a cauldron of emotions and uncertainties. They were collaborators in an act of time-bending subterfuge, doing what they did best: adapting strategies, forging identities, and navigating perilous waters with no clear map to guide them.
As Chloe made her way to the door, she paused, turning back to Alex with a look of half-charmed amusement. "Welcome to the past, Cartwright. Let's make sure it's not your future."
Alex mustered a rueful grin, the irony of the statement not lost on him. "Here's to blending in and standing out only when absolutely necessary."
With a last nod to Jack, Chloe departed into the evening, leaving behind the quiet thrum of anticipation for the work that lay ahead.
Jack and Alex regarded each other for a long moment after Chloe's exit. "First thing tomorrow, you'll shadow me, get a feel for the rhythms of CTU," Jack explained. "No solo missions, no backend heroics. Eyes and ears only."
"Until we solve the puzzle of how I got here," Alex reaffirmed, knowing the responsibilities thrust upon him stretched beyond his own need to return home.
"Exactly. The priority is figuring out how this happened and how to reverse it," Jack stated, his experience as a veteran field operative lending authority to every word. "Your presence here has to be... unremarkable. You'll observe, you'll learn, and you'll wait."
Alex understood, and although impatience gnawed at him, he memorized the blueprint of Jack's instructions. "Day one of Alexander Cartwright starts tomorrow. I'll be ready."
Jack gave him a slight nod, the semblance of a plan forming structure amidst the chaos. "Good. Now, get some rest. You've got a big day ahead of you, and you need to be sharp. There's only so much we can script—much of this will require you to think on your feet, blend in seamlessly."
As Alex retreated to the spare room that last night felt like a junction between timelines, Jack lingered in the silence of the living room, reviewing the stakes that sprawled invisibly around them. With every second, Alex's life in 2040 slipped further away while his role as Alexander Cartwright embedded deeper into the fabric of their present.
Jack knew all too well the importance of cover identities, the meticulous subterfuge that could mean the difference between life and death, success and failure. But this was different; this was a masquerade where the veil they wove was against the continuum of time itself.
Chloe's email came through, and Jack opened his laptop to verify the documents she had meticulously crafted. Every record was authentic, every detail finely tuned to withstand scrutiny. Alexander Cartwright, the CTU Denver badge gleaming from the screen, was the most average, dependable data analyst one could hope for.
Jack forwarded the necessary files to his CTU email, using his secure encrypted connection. A new credential was set, a new life poised to begin.
Tomorrow, he would bring Alex—no, Cartwright—into the fold at CTU. Jack's gut clenched with the responsibility of it. In his hands, he held not just Alex's fate but potentially the integrity of history itself.