Bloodline
Two: Ghosts of the Future
Early the next morning, long before the sun crested the horizon, Jack and Alex were huddled in the kitchen. A sense of urgency hung in the air as Jack laid out the principles that would guide Alex through his first day at CTU.
"Your alias, 'Alexander Cartwright,' comes from CTU Denver. Remember, you're a data analyst, recently requested for an expedited transfer," Jack reiterated, watching as Alex absently fidgeted with a pen, jotting down faux notes on his 'backstory.'
"I can handle fake identities, Jack, but this... I'm going to meet my father, Tony Almeida, in the flesh," Alex sighed, the weight of what was coming settling on his features.
Jack leaned back, arms crossed. "You're going to have to keep your cool, Alex. You can't let on who you really are. He's your boss now, not your father." Jack paused, his level gaze holding Alex's. "And don't forget your glasses. They'll help obscure your resemblance to him."
Alex reached for the pair of nondescript glasses lying on the table and put them on. "How do I look?" he asked, attempting a half-smile.
"Like a Denver data analyst," Jack responded with approval. "You said Chloe is your Director in the future, so I expect you know how she operates. Use that. Think about how she would expect a new agent to act."
"Professional, dutiful, a little reserved," Alex suggested, "I can do that."
Jack nodded, emotionally preparing for the more difficult application of their plan. "Now, remember, if Chappelle is there…"
At the mention of Ryan Chappelle's name, Alex froze. Outside the static walls of Jack's kitchen, in toe, in the plain light of Jack's reality, Chappelle was alive, whole, and unblemished by the events that had seared themselves into Alex's knowledge of history.
Jack watched as a silent struggle flickered across Alex's face. In this timeline, he hadn't yet borne witness to Jack's grim task, the execution of Chappelle that would mark one of their gravest days at CTU. Jack interpreted the stillness, the hidden grief in Alex's eyes as anxiety over meeting someone as intimidating as Chappelle and placed a supporting hand on his shoulder.
"Listen to me," Jack said firmly. "Chappelle might hold your expedited transfer under a microscope, so stick to protocol and answers any questions he has concisely. You're a new agent looking to make a good first impression. Can you handle that?"
Alex nodded slowly, still wrestling with the unrevealed knowledge of Chappelle's fate. "Yeah, I'll keep it professional, stick to the story. I won't let on anything. But Jack, how do you deal with—"
He cut himself off, realizing he'd nearly stepped into a conversation he wasn't ready to have. Jack looked at him quizzically, prompting him to quickly recompose himself and finish his thought with, "—how do you deal with Chappelle's management style?"
Jack saw only a nervous new recruit in front of him, not someone grasping with the knowledge of a dark future. "Don't let him rattle you. He's tough but fair. And remember, you're an analyst, not a field agent. You won't be under as much direct scrutiny from him. If he does press, just stay calm and stick to your cover story."
"Got it. I'll be the picture of professionalism," Alex affirmed, albeit with a hint of dread.
Jack eyed him for a moment longer, contemplating the silent battle Alex seemed to be fighting within himself. "Another thing. Do not discuss anything beyond the scope of your duties. If Tony or anyone else questions you about your past, be vague. Denver has a solid team, but they're not as high-profile as we are here in LA. Use that to keep conversations short and to the point."
"Understood, be the quiet guy from Denver. Now," Alex added, sliding the fake glasses up the bridge of his nose, "if Chappelle does show up, how should I—?"
Jack interrupted, "Act like you would with any other high-ranking official. Respectful, attentive, but don't look too eager. Ryan Chappelle respects competence over brownnosing."
Alex swallowed hard, nodding in agreement. "Competence, I can do that."
Looking over, Jack could see Alex's mind working overtime, the gears spinning with 'what-ifs' and 'maybes' about Chappelle and the delicate fabric of time they were now both a part of. He decided to focus on the immediate concerns instead of what couldn't be changed or spoken of.
"I'm going to drop you a couple of blocks from CTU," Jack said. "We can't arrive together— it would raise too many questions," Jack continued. "Stay sharp, keep your head down and blend in. If anyone asks, we barely know each other here. Acquaintances, nothing more."
Alex took a deep breath. "I understand," he said, the sense of unreality briefly fracturing the resolve in his voice. "It's just... walking into CTU, seeing everything and everyone..."
"Focus on your cover," Jack advised firmly. "You're Agent Cartwright, a name Chloe put her reputation on the line to create. You owe it to her—and to yourself—to make this work."
Alex fixed Jack with a determined look, pushing aside the swell of emotions. "You're right. I'll be Agent Cartwright. I can do this."
Jack nodded. "Now, let's go through your cover one more time. Where are you from?"
"CTU Denver," Alex replied promptly.
"And your specialty?"
"Data analytics with a focus on pattern recognition in terrorist communication."
Jack smiled slightly. "Good. Now, what brought you to CTU LA?"
"A request for an expedited transfer," Alex answered, his tone taking on the impersonal edge of the backstory fabricated to shield him from scrutiny.
"Excellent. And why were you transferred?"
"Due to personnel adjustments and the need for my specific skill set within the LA office."
"Perfect. Make sure you keep it vague. They don't need a detailed story; they just need to believe you belong there."
Alex's fingers drummed on the tabletop, a silent echo of his rising anxiety. "And if they ask about my background?"
"Keep it simple," Jack counseled. "Say you were born and raised in Colorado, went to CU Boulder for your degree. You had family in the military, and that inspired you to serve your country through CTU."
Nodding, Alex returned Jack's gaze with newfound confidence he didn't feel. "CU Boulder, family in the military... got it."
"One more thing," Jack said. "You've worked under Almeida's command before, during an interagency operation. You respect his work, and you're looking forward to learning from his leadership."
"That's... a good touch. It'll add some credibility if I slip up and show any familiarity," Alex admitted.
"Exactly," Jack agreed. "It primes them to accept your reactions as professional admiration rather than personal connection."
Alex took a moment to let everything sink in. The weight of meeting his parents, dealing with the looming threat of exposure, the complexity of weaving through a history he wasn't supposed to be part of – it was overwhelming. Yet, Jack's guidance provided a tether to the role he had to play.
Jack stood, signaling the end of their prep. "Time to head out. Let's do this."
They made their way to Jack's car, a silence settling between them as they approached the moment of truth. Jack drove with his usual focused intensity, while Alex stared out the window, rehearsing his cover story in his mind.
A few blocks from CTU, Jack pulled over. "This is it," he said, his eyes steady on Alex. "Remember, if anything goes sideways, find a way to contact me. I'll be waiting to hear that everything went smoothly."
Alex nodded, his hand on the door handle. "Thank you, Jack. For everything."
"Good luck, Cartwright," Jack said, giving Alex a final nod of encouragement as he stepped out of the car.
Alex took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and squared his shoulders. 'Agent Alexander Cartwright' made his way toward CTU, ready to face a world that technically should have been long behind him. As Jack watched him go, there was a silent hope that the tides of time would be merciful, that the ghosts of futures and pasts would lay dormant just long enough for Alex to fulfill the mission they had ahead.
Alex stepped through the automated glass doors of CTU Los Angeles, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of high-stakes national security operations. With every step, he cemented his dedication to an intricate facade; his true identity as a child of two of the agency's most decorated agents had to remain under the surface.
The brisk walk to the meeting room did little to settle the flurry of thoughts as he approached Tony Almeida and Ryan Chappelle. Chappelle's piercing gaze met him first, nodding in acknowledgment as Alex entered.
"Agent Cartwright," Chappelle said, his voice authoritative yet not without a trace of curiosity, "please take a seat."
Alex complied, giving a small nod of his own as he sat down. Across from him, Tony Almeida's eyes were already dissecting him, looking for flaws in his armor, trying to see something beneath the surface.
Tony broke the silence first. "Denver, right? What's your stand on field work, Cartwright? You see any action there, or are you purely an office type?"
Alex responded with a calm he barely felt, "I've supported field operations from an analytical standpoint, providing real-time data that guided tactical decisions. So, while I wasn't out in the field physically, my work was integral to mission success."
Ryan Chappelle interjected before Tony could respond. "That sort of back-end support is crucial. Data analysis has been underappreciated for too long. CTU LA could benefit from a detail-oriented perspective."
Alex noticed Chappelle's eyes momentarily flick down to his wedding ring as he spoke—a brief lapse in his otherwise steadfast demeanor, a glimpse into personal depths seldom shown.
"Happy to provide that perspective, Sir," Alex replied.
Tony pressed on, his scrutiny unfaltering. "Analytical jobs can be cushy. You willing to put in the hours, deal with the pressure here?"
"I thrive under pressure, Sir," Alex assured him. "Long hours analyzing complex data sets, cross-referencing intelligence reports, anticipating adversary moves—it's not something I shy away from. It's where I'm most comfortable."
Chappelle nodded, but Tony continued, seemingly unconvinced. "Comfortable, huh? Well, remember you're not in cozy Colorado anymore. In LA, situations escalate fast, stakes are high. A lot rides on having accurate intel."
"I understand the stakes, and I assure you," Alex said, purposely maintaining eye contact with Tony, "I'm committed to the accuracy and timeliness of my analyses. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't ready to meet those demands."
"Let's hope so," Tony replied tersely, then shifted in his chair, clearly moving on to a new line of questioning. "What's your take on interdepartmental communication, Cartwright? Ever run into issues with disseminating intel to the field teams?"
Alex thought through the question, focusing on maintaining his cover while drawing from his actual experiences. "In my role at Denver, alignment with field units was paramount. Disseminating intel has its challenges—it's all about clear, concise communication and understanding the operational tempo."
Chappelle seemed satisfied with the response, but Tony leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Tempo's one thing. Trust is another. Field agents need to know they can rely on the intel they receive—without second-guessing. It's life or death out there."
Alex felt Tony's intensity, the implication in his words. He replied carefully, "Trust is earned, sir, and I intend to earn it here through my work. I hold life-and-death decisions with the utmost gravity."
Tony's scowl relaxed slightly, if only to size him up once more, but Ryan Chappelle intervened before further scrutiny could unfold.
"Almeida, I think Agent Cartwright understands the gravity of the situation. Don't you, Agent?"
"Absolutely, Sir," Alex reaffirmed, his glance briefly catching Chappelle's ring again, the symbol of a man who lived a complex and full life outside the harsh lighting of CTU. He averted his gaze, respectful of the boundary even as his mind absorbed the visceral contrast between the man in front of him and the knowledge of his impending fate.
With the conversation waning, Chappelle seemed ready to close the meeting when Michelle Dessler knocked and entered the room. She was a breath of fresh air but conveyed a professionalism that was unyielding. Her eyes met Alex's, and for a moment there was a sense of recognition before she smoothly transitioned into her role.
"Michelle, you'll take Agent Cartwright here and orient him. Introduce him to the systems, show him how things are done around here," Tony instructed her, casting another long, cool look at Alex.
"Of course, Tony," she answered, then turned to Alex with a welcoming smile. "Let's get you settled in, Agent Cartwright."
Alex stood, doing his best to mirror the professional demeanor of Michelle , despite the tangle of emotions each of her smiles stirred within him.
As they exited the room, he couldn't shake off Tony's stare. It had pierced him like a knife of suspicion, making him feel like an imposter in his own skin.
Once they were in the corridor, Michelle's voice cut through his reflection. "I understand jumping into a new place can be overwhelming, but you'll find CTU LA to be a supportive environment. We're like a family here."
"Thank you," Alex replied, grateful for her reassurance amidst the intensity of the meeting. "That's precisely the kind of environment I work best in."
Michelle led him through the bustling offices, pointing out various areas of interest. "This is the main operations floor. Your work here will directly impact field agents, so you'll need to be in constant communication with them."
"I'm accustomed to maintaining an open dialogue with operational teams," Alex explained. "Ensuring they have the best possible intelligence is a priority for me."
They stopped at a quiet corner of the room, where a bank of computer terminals lay. Her fingers danced across the keyboard of one, pulling up a series of windows and interfaces. "This is where you'll be stationed. Access is restricted until your security clearance is updated, but you'll have plenty to get started with."
As Michelle continued to explain protocols and procedures, Alex felt his mind drift momentarily to the man he had left behind in the meeting room. Tony Almeida, his father, looked at him with distrust, causing a knot of discomfort in his chest. He wanted to forge some connection, but it was impossible; Tony had to remain unaware of their true relationship.
He was pulled back from his thoughts as Michelle shifted the topic to more personal guidance. "You might run into some skepticism at first; it's a rite of passage here. But once they see your dedication to the job, the team will embrace you."
Alex swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I'm ready to demonstrate my commitment," he said, hopeful he could convince both Tony and herself.
"I believe you," Michelle said with a smile, making him feel seen in a way he hadn't anticipated. "Just remember, it's all about being proactive and thorough. Tony might seem a bit intense, but he just wants to ensure that everyone is up to snuff."
"Sounds like a good leader," Alex remarked honestly, though part of him ached at the distant formality between them.
"He is," Michelle concurred, her expression sobering slightly as their eyes met. "He takes our mission very seriously. It's not just a job for him, it's a commitment to something greater."
Alex resonated with her words, feeling a pang of pride and sorrow for the shared sense of purpose he knew Tony embodied, one that he himself carried within.
"I understand that sentiment," Alex said. "I share it. The work we do here isn't just a career. It's about protecting lives, making a difference."
Michelle nodded approvingly, and as they conversed, her demeanor became more relaxed. "That's the kind of attitude that will get you far here. So, tell me, what drew you into this line of work?"
The question was simple, conversationally innocent, but to Alex, it stealthily toed the edges of his constructed persona. He couldn't very well explain the real, deeply personal nature of his dedication, so he leaned on rehearsed vagueness.
"I guess you could say it's in the blood," Alex said, allowing himself a rare moment of truth veiled in his cover story. "Family in the military, it made an impression on me. I wanted to find my own way to serve."
Michelle's expression softened further. "I can respect that. It's not an easy path, but it's meaningful."
They continued their tour in tandem, walking through the maze of hallways and offices, each one filled with agents absorbed in their own high-stakes tasks. Alex's mind raced, absorbing every detail she shared, all while an undercurrent of emotion churned quietly.
For every second that ticked by, a tangled web of 'what-ifs' plagued him. He had a chance here – an opportunity to reshape events and create a different path for the people he loved. Yet, he knew the dangers inherent in tampering with time. Each moment came laced with a mix of potential and peril.
"Well, here's the cafeteria," Michelle announced, drawing Alex out of his reverie.
He glanced around, noting the juxtaposition of normalcy within an environment that was anything but ordinary. Agents and analysts ate, laughed, and shared moments of human connection amidst the backdrop of world-affecting decisions. It was, in microcosm, much like any other workplace, despite the gravitas that underlaid every aspect of their operations.
Michelle led him to a quiet booth, and they sat opposite each other. "You'll have some time before your first briefing. Any questions for me Alex nodded, his mind strategically navigating through the minefield of his actual knowledge versus what his alter ego should know. "Yes, a few, if you don't mind. About our current threat landscape. Could you provide an overview of what CTU LA is focusing on at the moment?"
Michelle leaned back, tapping the tabletop in thought. "Well, as much as I can share without your clearance… we've been tracking a couple of potential threats on the domestic front. Increased chatter has us concerned about an attack on infrastructure or a public event. It's all hands on deck trying to preempt any plans in motion."
"Understood," Alex said, careful to maintain the right level of intrigue and professionalism. "And what about the data streams we monitor? Satcom? SIGINT? HUMINT?"
"We use a combination," Michelle explained, her eyes scanning his face for comprehension. "Satellite communications yield a lot of metadata, but signal intelligence usually brings the actionable specifics. As for human intelligence sources, that can be hit or miss, but when it's a hit, it's gold."
Alex nodded appreciatively, absorbing every piece of information, both for his mission and to keep his cover story believable and consistent. "It sounds like we're covering a broad spectrum. I'm eager to dive into the data."
Michelle's face softened, seemingly appreciative of his engagement. "You'll get your chance soon enough. You're starting with the database analysis, right? We'll need you to sift through high volumes of data quickly, identifying any anomalies that could point us toward potential threats. It's tedious, but vital."
"That's what I do best," Alex said with a hint of a smile, trying to convey confidence and enthusiasm. It was partly true—his skill set did include data analysis—though it wasn't his usual remit.
For the next few minutes, Michelle answered his series of methodically framed questions, each designed to project the image of a keen analyst, while not revealing any depth of knowledge he shouldn't possess. She spoke of protocols and clearance levels, of inter-agency collaborations and the expectations laid upon each member of the CTU staff.
As they talked, Alex noted the passion with which Michelle spoke of her work. There was a fire there, a dedication that felt strangely familial. It was a reminder of the driven woman his mother was, beneath the maternal warmth he'd always known.
"So, anything else you'd like to know about CTU's operations, or maybe something not work-related to get your mind at ease?" Michelle asked, offering a small break from the relentless influx of information.
Alex pondered for a moment, choosing his next words with care. "I'm starting to understand how the pieces fit together here. But can you tell me something about the team dynamics? How does everyone deal with the stress of such high-stakes jobs?"
Michelle tilted her head, considering the question. "CTU can be a crucible. It can either forge you stronger or burn you out. The key is to rely on each other. We celebrate together when we win, and we pick each other up when we're down. It's not uncommon for people to unwind together after a particularly tough day."
"That sounds comforting," Alex mused aloud, feeling an echo of bitter nostalgia for team comradery he was well familiar with in his original timeline. "It's reassuring to know that when the pressure mounts, there's a sense of unity."
"That's the idea," she replied, "And it's not just about debriefs and after-action reports. We're human, and acknowledgment of that humanity is what keeps us grounded."
Their conversation was disrupted as Michelle's phone vibrated insistently, signaling urgent business awaiting her attention. She frowned.
"I have to take this," Michelle said, standing. "Make yourself comfortable, and I'll find you once I've taken care of this. And Alex? Really, welcome to CTU. I know you're going to fit in just fine."
"Thank you, Michelle," Alex said, genuine gratitude in his voice. "I appreciate the welcome—and the guidance."
As Michelle departed, Alex turned his gaze around the cafeteria. Agents interacted, shared laughs, and decompressed in small pockets of camaraderie. He saw field agents animatedly discussing operations, tech specialists deeply engaged in their conversations—it was a cross-section of a world he knew too well, yet from which he felt entirely detached.
But more than anything, it was the sight of Tony, sitting solitary with a coffee cup, his eyes occasionally scanning the room with an intensity that spoke volumes about the man's dedication and the wariness that had grown from years in the field.
Alex considered approaching him, trying to forge some semblance of 'normal' interaction, but ultimately stayed put. The risk was too high, the emotions too raw; he couldn't afford any semblance of familiarity. The walls between them, built out of necessity, had to remain impenetrable.
As time passed and he continued his orientation, Alex's mind was awash with the contrasts and complexities of this new yet familiar environment. Every conversation, every routine security detail, every shared joke he overheard among the staff—it all painted a portrait of CTU Los Angeles that was both intimate and imposing.
Michelle returned after what seemed like an eternity, her demeanor a shade more serious, likely a reflection of the pressures that lay just beyond the reach of his limited clearance.
"Sorry for the interruption," she said as she approached, "but sometimes that's just how it goes around here. Now, where were we?"
"We were discussing team dynamics," Alex reminded her, grateful for her return but cautious to stay in character.
"Right," Michelle acknowledged. "Well, you'll find that team dinners, drinks after a tough case, or just the occasional venting session are all part of the healing process here. It's how we stay sane in a job that can be... a lot."
Alex absorbed every word, a part of him longing to truly be a part of the camaraderie she described. Instead, he maintained his analytical persona. "I can imagine. And during operations typically, how are decisions communicated from analysts to field agents? Is there a protocol for when things... change rapidly?"
"There's a well-defined chain of command," Michelle answered, her fingers idly tapping on the tabletop as she spoke. "Real-time intel is passed up to the CTU floor director who makes the call. But if it's a critical situation, immediate changes are communicated directly to the agents involved. You'll be briefed more in depth once your clearance comes through."
"I look forward to it," Alex responded. "Instantaneous decisions based on evolving intel—that's a dynamic I'm eager to engage with."
As he spoke, he noticed Tony briefly making eye contact from across the room, a stern reminder of the hurdles he still faced. Feeling the weight of Tony's gaze, he chose his next words carefully, addressing Michelle but acutely aware of the audience they had.
"The responsibility is not lost on me, and I'm ready to take it head-on," Alex continued, intent on projecting the seriousness his position demanded.
Michelle nodded, apparently satisfied. "You'll do fine, Alex. Just remember, no one expects you to know everything on your first day. You'll learn on the job, and you'll have plenty of support."
"Thank you," Alex said, turning his focus back to Michelle. "I can't stress how much it means to feel welcomed this warmly."
"It's our pleasure," Michelle replied, smiling. "You'll find that here at CTU, we're not just colleagues; we're a family. We look out for one another, and when someone new comes on board, we do our best to make them feel a part of that."
The conversation offered a comforting sense of belonging, something Alex almost wished he could fully enjoy. He appreciated Michelle's kindness, her openness—an openness that made the barriers he had to maintain all the more difficult to bear.
"Family," Alex echoed, the word bittersweet, laden with all the unspoken truth he had to keep buried. "It's a strong word, but from what I've seen today, an appropriate one for CTU."
Michelle glanced back towards the operations floor. "It has to be. We face life and death together, and that's not something you can do without forming deep bonds."
"I understand," Alex said. A part of him longed to tell her just how much he understood, to share the depth of his connections to CTU that ran through his blood. But that revelation still lay hidden in the web of time, and for now, he was Alexander Cartwright, data analyst from Denver.
As they rose from the table, Alex carried with him the weight of his intricate deception and the bittersweet knowledge of just as they walked on, Michelle briefed him on some logistical aspects of their upcoming operations, introducing a stream of acronyms and procedure names. Alex allowed himself to appear mildly overwhelmed, asking her to repeat certain points to reinforce his cover.
"So, just to clarify," he began at one point, "the SAD is where we aggregate the SIGINT data for pattern recognition before cross-referencing it with HUMINT reports?"
"Exactly," Michelle said, pleased. "And remember, our Structural Analysis Division is key to preemptive action. You'll be working closely with their leads to ensure any anomalies are flagged immediately."
"I'll make sure to establish good communication with them," Alex said, nodding.
As they continued through the labyrinthine corridors of CTU, Alex marveled at the efficiency and dedication of the personnel, a choreography he knew all too well. Yet, within this familiar dance, he was an outsider, a ghost haunting his own life—a notion that made his every interaction feel just a bit more surreal.
Each agent and analyst they passed represented a piece of the complex machine that was CTU, and every piece of information Michelle shared was a part of the puzzle he was constructing in his mind. A puzzle that spanned time and life, deep connections and hidden truths.
"That's just about it for the orientation, at least until you're cleared for more sensitive information," Michelle finished as they arrived back at Alex's new work station. "Any final questions or concerns?"
Alex took a deep breath, steadying himself as he sifted through strategic talking points. "Just one. If I identify something urgent, something immediately actionable, who's my direct point of contact?"
"That'd be me," Michelle answered confidently. "You report any critical findings directly, and I'll make sure it gets to the right person. Timing could be everything."
"Understood," Alex said, his tone conveying both respect for the protocol and an unspoken understanding of its grave importance.
"Great," Michelle smiled. "Now, I've got another meeting, but you should start to settle in. Familiarize yourself with the systems and the current intel. Everyone's here to help if you need it, but from what I've seen, you'll be fine on your own."
"Thank you, Michelle. For all of this," Alex expressed with genuine gratitude.
As she walked away, Alex turned his focus back to the terminal, beginning to engage with the sea of data that flowed through CTU's networks. He was a man caught between eras, tasked with bridging the divide with every keystroke.
And as the day pressed on, with interactions both banal and weighted, Alex bore the weight of his dual life with the stoic resolve of an agent, but with the heart of a son who longed for the comfort and connection to the parents who were, in this place and time, still strangers to him.
Tony's wary gaze occasionally met his from across the room, and each time Alex felt a chill, a reminder of the line he walked between deception and familial bonds.
He immersed himself in data analysis, showing Michelle and the team that he was more than capable, hoping to build the trust and credibility necessary to navigate his precarious situation. And with each new layer of CTU revealed to him, Alex carved out a space for himself, threading a needle through the fabric of time, hoping against hope that the pattern he wove would hold strong.
Jack's steady hands gripped the steering wheel as he navigated the quiet streets leading away from CTU. He spotted the tall, lean silhouette of Alex waiting in the pre-arranged location, slightly slouched from the burden of the day.
The passenger door opened with a soft click, and Alex slid inside. Without exchanging words, the rattle of the aging SUV mingled with the rhythmic thud of Alex's heavy breaths.
A few blocks passed before Jack broke the silence. "First days are always the toughest. How'd it go, Alex?"
Alex sighed, a loaded exhale that held the weight of conflicted emotions. "Tony—there's a wall there I didn't expect, Jack. It's more than just professional skepticism. It feels... personal."
Jack's eyes flickered with understanding, dark and unreadable as he considered his next words carefully. "Tony's in the hot seat, trying to fill George Mason's shoes. Chappelle's not easy on anyone, especially Tony. He's watching his every move."
Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. "I think he knows, deep down, something's up. His gut's telling him there's more to me."
"Well, his gut's not wrong," Jack conceded with a wry twist to his lips. "But he's also got a natural suspicion of anything he can't read like an open file. Give it time."
They pulled into the parking lot of a small burger joint, the dimmed sign outside promising a reprieve from the day's tension.
Over sounds of sizzling grills and chatter, Jack's steady presence offered Alex the opening he needed to unload his worries.
"I knew it wasn't going to be some big, happy reunion," Alex started, meticulously tearing a napkin into smaller pieces. "But the way Tony looked at me, like a threat—it stung more than I thought it would."
Jack reached for the ketchup, and as he poured a generous amount onto his fries, he watched Alex struggle with the emotions churning just below the surface. "You're walking in as a stranger. For Tony, that's more than enough reason to tread carefully."
"But he has this..." Alex shook his head. "I mean, there's supposed to be something, isn't there? Some sort of connection? I don't know, Jack—it's just not what I had hoped for."
"Tony's instincts are sharp, "Tony's instincts are sharp, and that's part of what makes him such a good agent," Jack said. "They're alerting him to something about you, but he can't place it. That's making him cautious. But as CTU's leader, he's been through a trial by fire lately, getting grilled by Chappelle at every turn. He's got to show he's got the chops to handle anything that's thrown at him."
Alex listened, his eyes downcast. "I guess part of me hoped he'd see through the stranger—the... spy I'm pretending to be. I thought he'd see his son."
"The man at that meeting didn't know his son was sitting across from him," Jack said. "All he saw was a new recruit, a potential liability he has to vet and manage." Jack took a large bite of his burger and chewed thoughtfully. "Given the circumstances, don't you think it's better this way? If he felt too comfortable, too quickly, wouldn't that raise more flags?"
"Maybe," Alex conceded, pushing a fry through a puddle of ketchup. He looked up, meeting Jack's gaze. "But it's not just Tony. Michelle—she's... different here. Lighter. She's suffered so much loss in my time. And now she's this vibrant, driven person who just...welcomed me."
Jack's expression softened. "Yeah, it sounds like the Michelle you know, your mom, she's been tempered by those experiences." He took a drink from his soda before continuing. "She's resilient, just like Tony. It's part of why they're both so good at what they do. They can take those hits and keep going."
"But the Michelle in my time looked so worn," Alex said. "You can see it in her eyes; every tragedy chipped away at her. Here, it's like seeing her for the first time. Fiery, full of passion."
"That's what this job does. It burns bright, and it burns out," Jack replied. "We see the worst of what the world has to offer, but people like Tony and Michelle, they somehow manage to push through it. You're getting a glimpse of them before life demanded its toll."
Alex's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Seeing her like this... it's a constant reminder of how much she's going to lose. And Tony... he's not just a new boss trying to prove himself. He's my dad, fighting a battle he doesn't even know is his own."
Jack leaned in, his voice low and resonant. "Alex, you have a rare opportunity to affect change. A possibility to alter the course of things. We have to stay focused on that."
"I know, I know," Alex said, running a hand over his face, the fatigue and emotional strain evident. "But it's hard not to… get caught up in what-ifs, you know?"
"Yeah," Jack acknowledged with a nod. "It's human nature to wallow in 'what-ifs.' But what-ifs are quicksand in our line of work. You start entertaining them, and before you know it, you're neck-deep in doubts, unable to move."
"Right," Alex sighed, the edges of the napkin in tatters now. "I'm here to do a job. To protect them, even if they don't know it. Even if it means hiding the truth."
Jack's eyes held steady, projecting a certainty that seemed to fill the space between them. "The truth is a luxury we don't always get in our line of business.
Taking a generous bite of his burger, Jack's manner remained level. "You're doing good, Alex. It's a hell of a thing that you didn't ask for, stepping into the past, trying to set a different course while keeping history straight. It's like threading a needle during an earthquake."
Alex managed a half-smile. "Not exactly what I imagined when you guys trained me. I thought I'd be running down leads, not running down memory lane—in a time before I existed."
Jack chuckled, a light-hearted moment amidst the gravity of their situation. "That's the job for you—never quite what you expect. Every day is a roll of the dice."
Alex picked at his burger, his appetite dampened slightly by the heavy discussion. "You know, she—Michelle—she was trying to give me advice today. About the job, about taking care of myself. It was surreal, hearing that from her."
"You'll find a lot of things are going to feel surreal on this assignment," Jack said, washing down the last of his meal with a gulp of water. "Michelle's got a good heart. That care and concern, that's genuine, no matter the timeline."
Alex nodded, swirling a fry in his ketchup. "Yeah. And it's something that we have to protect. I have to protect."
The chill of the evening air hit them as they left the burger joint, momentarily clearing the mental fog that had settled over the two of them. The glow of the streetlights passed in rhythmic waves overhead as they made their way back to the vehicle. The stillness of the drive back acted as a small respite, a calm before the storm they both knew was coming.
Once back behind the wheel, Jack took a moment to start the car, letting the warmth from the vents push back against the night's cold. "We knew this wasn't going to be an easy ride," Jack finally said as he pulled out of the burger joint's parking lot. "When you deal with the hands that time deals you, you gotta play the game with a poker face."
"I know," Alex acknowledged, his voice growing firmer with resolve. "And I'm not about to fold. I'll do whatever it takes to get home to Emily."
Jack gave a nod of approval.
Alex glanced across at Jack, the tension lines easing around his eyes. "You know what's weird? Amongst all of this, just eating a burger with you—it felt like a normal. Almost forgot the world could be falling apart outside."
Jack managed a small smile, "Life's full of these moments, even in chaos. Maybe especially in chaos. They're what make the job worth it. What we're fighting for."
Alex leaned back against the seat headrest, letting the words sink in. "It's just... every single decision now feels weighted with consequence. Both for the world and personally. It feels like juggling dynamite."
"It is. Remember though, whatever comes at us, we've got each other's backs." Jack's words were spoken with a stalwart assurance that seemed to pierce through the veil of uncertainty.
"I won't forget," Alex promised, returning Jack's affirmed nod. "And I'll keep fighting to make sure all of this... it amounts to something better for everyone."
"That's the mission," Jack confirmed, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter, as if to physically anchor himself to the present task.
They continued to drive in silence, each with their own tumultuous thoughts, until Jack brought the SUV to a stop outside his home.
"You should get some downtime," Jack advised as he killed the engine and glanced over to Alex. "Rest is crucial. You won't help anyone if you burn out."
Alex, weary but grounded by the talk, simply nodded. "I'll try, Jack. Although, sleep tends to be elusive these days."
"Try. That's all you can do," Jack encouraged, patting Alex's shoulder in a moment of unspoken solidarity.
Exiting the vehicle, the cool night wrapped around them, a tangible contrast to the warmth of their shared resolve. They approached the house, before entering, Alex hesitated, turning to Jack. "I meant to ask—how do you do it? Stay so composed under all this pressure?"
Jack considered the question, a distant echo of many silent debates in his mind. "You find something to cling to. Something worth protecting. And you let that be your anchor."
"So, for you…?" Alex trailed off, baiting Jack for a glimpse into his fortress of solitude.
"For me, it's people like you—determined to make a difference," Jack revealed, the emotion clear in his voice. "You make the sacrifices worthwhile."
Alex's eyes reflected the dim porch light, a glimmer of appreciation mixed with the shadows of his thoughts. "Thanks, Jack. I guess everyone needs an anchor."
Alex dropped onto the couch, sinking into the cushions with a heavy sigh. Jack remained standing, scanning the room before returning to the conversation.
"Tomorrow is a new day, Alex," Jack said, crossing his hands over his chest. "New ops, new challenges at CTU. How do you want to handle it?"
"I need to win Tony's trust, somehow. Without setting off any alarms. I'll lean on his CTU pride—show him my dedication to the cause," Alex strategized, the gears turning in his mind. "And with Michelle, I need to maintain that friendly, new guy persona. Keep her at ease."
Jack approved, but his brow furrowed slightly, sensing the undercurrent of emotion. " "That's a solid plan," Jack agreed. "But you're carrying a lot, Alex. You're bearing the weight of knowing their futures and maintaining this façade. Don't lose yourself in it."
"I won't," Alex assured him, though his tone lacked conviction. Looking up at Jack, he added, "I'll keep my focus on the mission—getting home. It's just... at times, it seems like I'm walking alongside ghosts of the future. Like I'm seeing echoes of what could have been—or what might still be."