Four months had passed.
Jack Bauer stood at the edge of the beach, staring out at the ocean as the waves rolled in and retreated, over and over, a rhythmic reminder of time slipping away. The horizon blurred where the sea met the sky, and everything was bathed in the soft gold of the setting sun. His mind wandered back through the months that had passed since Heller had brought him to this place—this sanctuary where his body and mind had begun to heal, though not entirely.
He'd been on his knees for so long, broken in ways only he could understand. But now, after four months, he was on his feet again—literally. The soft sand beneath his bare feet grounded him, the burn in his muscles from the morning's run reminded him that he was still fighting, still alive. That one percent of hope, that flicker in the back of his mind, still lingered. Audrey might not be gone. It was illogical, a fantasy he knew couldn't be true, but he clung to it, the way he had once clung to the belief that he could make it home from China.
He remembered that first push-up. It was nearly four months ago now, the day he finally forced himself out of bed. His shoulder had been dislocated only weeks before, the wounds on his arms and abdomen were still raw. But the pain was just noise to him. He needed something to focus on, something to push against. If there was even the slimmest chance—one percent—that Audrey was still out there, he had to be ready. Ready to fight for her.
That first push-up was agony, his body rebelling against him, his strength all but gone. But he'd forced his way through it, counting the seconds as his arms trembled beneath him. One push-up became three. Three became ten. Ten became thirty. Each movement, each repetition, brought him a little further away from the darkness that had consumed him for so long. He could do this. He had to. He wouldn't let the pain win. He wouldn't let that one percent of hope flicker out.
Sweat dripped down his brow now as he finished his run, his legs aching from miles spent running up and down the shore. The ocean breeze cooled him, and he slowed to a walk, breathing heavily. His eyes scanned the horizon, searching for something, but finding , thefightremained. Hewouldn'tletitgo.
Jack's mind shifted back to his conversation with Heller, four months ago. Heller had taken care of him—why? Jack had asked him once, and Heller's answer had been simple: "It would have been Audrey's last wish." Those words had stuck with Jack, replaying in his mind like a mantra. He was endlessly grateful. He wasn't sure where he would have ended up if Heller hadn't stepped in. Homeless, wandering, maybe institutionalized. Would anyonehaverecognized that his silence wasn't a sign of madness, but a choice? His decision to disconnect from a world that no longer made sense withoutAudrey?
Not long after he had arrived at Heller's beach house, Jack had started toopen upagain. Slowly, cautiously, like a wounded animal testing its limits. He sent Scott away after a while—he didn't need a caretaker. He didn't want help. He could manage on his own. From then on, Scott came only to change the dressings on his still-healing wounds, stopping by every few days.
But the worst part was the waiting. Killing time, waiting to heal, waiting for what? The question gnawed at him in those early days. There wasn't much left for him to live for. No one left to fight for, except for that lingering one percent of hope.
Three months ago, Jack had noticed something about Heller. He was standing in the kitchen, staring into space, a puzzled look on his face. Jack had watched him for a moment before walking over.
"What are you looking for?" Jack asked quietly, though he could already tell Heller didn't know.
Heller had chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I don't remember."
Jack had scanned the kitchen counter, seeing everything set up for breakfast. The toast, the butter, the coffee mug—all there except for the jelly.
"This?" Jack had asked, pulling the jar from the fridge.
Heller smiled, remembering. "Yeah. That's it."
Jack had tried to laugh, but it came out hoarse, his body still stiff with pain. "One of us doesn't know what we want. The other one's too weak to open the damn jar."
Heller had smiled at that. They were an odd pair, both broken in different ways, but here they were. Still surviving. Still getting had nothing in common, except for one thing: it was the memory of Audrey, that kept them both together, like an invisible bond.
Then came the hardest day. Two weeks ago. The day Jack visited Audrey's grave for the first time.
Heller had taken him on a private flight to Washington, to Arlington National Cemetery. Heller had been there many times before, visiting the place where his daughter was laid to rest, in the plot that would one day be his as well. But for Jack, this was new, and he wasn't sure if he was ready.
Jack had walked behind Heller as they approached the grave, the tension in his chest growing tighter with each step. He hadn't allowed himself to fully grieve in the months since Audrey had died. The pain had been too much to bear. But standing there, staring at her name carved into the stone, Jack had felt the full weight of his loss hit him like a sledgehammer.
He broke down.
Tears he'd held back for months flowed freely, his body shaking with sobs as he knelt in front of her grave. He hadn't cried this hard since he'd lost Teri. He had tried to prepare himself, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight of her name etched in . Gone.
Heller had stood beside him, silent but steady. He had already made his peace, as much as one could. Jack remembered Heller's quiet words that day: "It'll get easier for me, Jack. Soon enough, I won't even remember she's gone. Maybe one day, I won't remember I ever had a daughter."
The words chilled Jack to the core. How could a man forget his daughter? But Heller's mind was slipping, a reality Jack hadn't wanted to face until that moment.
Jack had felt Audrey's presence then, as if she were speaking to him through the wind that whispered around them. She wouldn't want him to wallow in grief, or to sink into despair. Her last wish wouldn't have been for herself; it would have been for her father. She had loved Heller so deeply, and now, she was gone. Heller had no one left.
Standing there, Jack had made a promise to Audrey. He would be there for Heller. He would take care of the man she had loved so much. It was the least he could do for her. It was her last wish.
Now, as the waves crashed softly against the shore, Jack felt the weight of that promise settle over him. He wasn't sure where the future would lead, or how much time Heller had left before his mind slipped away entirely. But Jack knew one thing: he would be there,as long ashe was needed. For Audrey.
Because in the end,fulfilling her last wish was the only thing that he could still do for her.
It felt like a last mission to him, one where he promised her that he'd not fail her.
This way, she'd still be alive, at least to him.