Update, FEB 2024: I decided to continue this story. So, starting as a "prequel" to season 3, it will now also be a "prequel" to season 4 and who knows for what else... let's see how it develops! Thanks in advance for reading & please leave a review!
Post-S3, 2 weeks later: Day 1
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Audrey didn't dare to leave her rental car again. She looked at her wristwatch: five hours remaining, before they'd miss her at the hotel, if she didn't show up in time for dinner with the rest of the delegation from Washington.
But she had wanted to do this, ever since the trip to L.A. had come up, a week ago. Ever since that Friday morning two weeks ago, she hadn't heard anything from Jack. It was Friday again.
In the beginning, she had been glad about not hearing anything from him. A one-night stand. Damn it. This was so not what she usually did. It was the first one-night stand ever. With a guy she'd only seen three times in her whole life… one who had killed over a hundred people, one who was an addict. It dawned on her in the days thereafter.
She was even glad that he didn't call. He had no reason to. They had agreed in Washington that it was just a one-night stand. Kissed goodbye. That was it.
A week later she was happier than ever about her period, because they both hadn't thought about protection that night.
Usually, that would have been the time to leave it behind, once and for all.
But she couldn't get him out of her head. Especially when the department of defense scheduled that appointment with a major defense contractor here in L.A., Jack found his way back into her mind. How was he? Still addicted? Most likely. Still unemployed? Most likely.
She inevitably remembered the night when he'd had his first high… she felt guilty, because she hadn't done everything she could have done to keep him away from the drugs. She had fallen for his mission-logic: better do it now than down in Mexico. What a stupid logic. She should have just blown off the mission.
Damn it, no. Who knows how many hundred thousand people would have died of the Cordilla virus then. One man sacrificed. A hundred thousand live. Not a bad bargain.
They made choices like this, every day, at DoD. Casualties were a number on a list, next to lost equipment, cost for ammunition and to be weighed against the mission target. He had been just one small number on their lists, half a year ago. She even remembered how she had weighed his chances on surviving Mexico: 50%.
Though he had survived, she wasn't sure if he wasn't a "casualty" after all. He had lost his job and was on the needle.
He had broken off all his bonds when he went undercover.
When he had let her into his room, two weeks ago, she felt like she was the only real human contact he'd had in a long time. They had talked for hours, about everything and anything. She had soon realized how good it did to him to talk openly about all the things he had gone through, no matter if they were classified or not.
Yesterday she had to do another mission briefing for another operation. Weigh the chances of survival of the operative. She couldn't get herself to write 50% onto that sheet of paper. Instead, she wrote 30%, effectively denying the funds for the mission.
Right after the meeting she had called agent Dessler at CTU to get Jack's phone number. DoD needed an additional de-briefing, she lied, using her new position as executive advisor to the Secretary of Defense.
Jack had no phone number. At least none that CTU had.
Agent Dessler gave her this address. It had led her to a run-down apartment block on the outskirts of L.A. Pacoima. Number 25. After she had arrived, she had walked up the squeaky metal stairs to the door number 25. Nobody opened.
For sure, she wouldn't wait at the door. Too many shady people were here. It seemed like nobody in this neighborhood spoke English.
She had returned to her car and now she was sitting here, waiting, asking herself if she had made a big mistake coming here. Was he up there, having shot himself into oblivion? Or just getting groceries? Or was it the wrong address after all? If he didn't give CTU his phone number, why should he give them his real address. He wouldn't expect a paycheck anyway.
Audrey remained sitting in her car. After all the lengths she had gone, lying to CTU, taking a cab back to the airport to get a rental car for tonight, driving all the way up here, she'd not give up after just a few minutes.
One and a half hours later, an old Chrysler station wagon rolled into the driveway. Audrey regretted her choice of rental car. She should have taken a less obtrusive, smaller, older model. In this neighborhood, her car looked quite odd. Probably they had only let her because they thought she was a fed, driving such a big black Ford.
A blonde man, wearing sunglasses, a grey t-shirt and washed-out blue jeans got out of the old station wagon. As soon as he was out, he lit himself a cigarette and looked around. He spotted the black Ford in an instant. Feds? CTU?
Audrey froze when she saw him. He had looked slim, two weeks ago. Now he even looked worse for wear. Deep rings under his eyes, that the sunglasses couldn't even cover. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days. She didn't remember him smoking… well, it's a small step only from where he already was.
He made a few steps towards her car. The windows were all tinted.
Suddenly, her courage left her. Should she just start the engine and drive away? He'd never know who had driven the Ford.
Stupid girl. This is the moment you've been waiting for, she told herself. He looked far worse than anything she had expected. Part of her had hoped to find him, just to hear him say he got rid of the heroin. Two weeks would have been enough, if he had started on day one. Stupid idea. This was heroin, not a diet.
She opened up the door and saw him reach out to his back, probably to grab a gun he wore in a pancake holster in his belt.
Jack stood in the L.A. evening sun, the cigarette in his left hand, the handle of the gun in his right hand, as he looked at the black Ford that he saw in the driveway for the first time. Either Feds, DEA or dealers. Whoever it was, he wanted to have nothing to do with them.
A woman stepped out. He froze.
She wore her blond hair open. A white blouse and a tight black skirt. Somehow he was sure that she'd taken off her high heels only for driving, having exchanged them for white canvas shoes.
She looked stunning. Such a misfit in this neighborhood.
Jack let go of the gun and threw the cigarette away as he walked over to her. "Audrey."
"Jack.", she smiled shyly, as if she was a schoolgirl, having gotten caught doing something she wasn't supposed to do. She was still standing close to the car, looking at him through the V-shaped gap between the door and A-pillar.
"What are you doing here?" He stopped at the hood.
She could see the red punctures at the crook of his left arm. He didn't even hide them. Well, in this neighborhood, there was obviously no need to, she thought.
"I…" Damn it, she had sat here, one and a half hours, enough time to think about some first words to say. Why hadn't she? "I was on a business trip to the city and I thought I could stop by.", Audrey stammered.
She was relieved to see a slight smile on his face. At least he wasn't mad. Was he high? He was miraculously calm and the red marks on his arm looked fresh. No. He had always been a calm guy.
Jack didn't really know how to proceed. He couldn't take her upstairs, to his place. It was a giant mess that he didn't want her to see.
They stood there, both at a loss and finally they both started to laugh about the situation.
Audrey was thoroughly happy to see him laugh. Probably he hadn't, in quite a while.
"What do we do now?", he finally asked her.
"Let's get a cup of coffee?", she asked, having sensed that for what reason ever, he'd not take her upstairs into his apartment.
"Okay. You drive. You shouldn't leave that car in this neighborhood.", he sighed.
Her smile grew even bigger. She unwillingly felt butterflies in her stomach when he walked around the hood to get in at the passenger side. Why? Was she fourteen again? Audrey asked herself why this was happening. He wasn't even her type.
She got in and started the engine.
Stealthily he glanced sidelong at him, sitting in the passenger seat.
Don't stare, she told herself, but used every chance to sneak a peek. "Where do we go?"
"There's a starbucks drive-through, two blocks from here. Turn right."
His choice of location surprised her at the first moment, but the longer she thought about it, the less surprising it was. Of course he didn't want to walk into a fancy café, the way he looked like. Was there even a decent café in this part of the city? The starbucks in this neighborhood was probably not a place anyone wanted to go into voluntarily. She wasn't used to such neighborhoods.
"Have you lived here for a long time?", she asked him.
"No. Few weeks." Jack watched the buildings fly past them as she drove. He had chosen this place for one reason only: he'd not attract any attention here, doing whatever he was still doing. That everything was Spanish around here didn't matter to him. He had lived down in Mexico the last six months and had spoken more Spanish than English anyway, lately.
Audrey rolled the car into the driveway. She was surprised that when she let down the window, he leant over and ordered their coffees, speaking Spanish. He was suddenly so close. He smelt like cigarettes. His disheveled blond hair was just a few inches away from her face. Her heart pounded like mad.
"They'll get you a foul-tasting dishwater coffee if you order it in English round here.", he remarked, as he let himself fall back into the seat again.
"Really?"
"Yap."
They got their coffees, Jack paid in cash, and to Audrey's surprise, hers actually tasted good. He had told her not to use her credit card. Too dangerous in this neighborhood. She didn't even have enough cash – who would have thought that places existed in L.A. where she'd not get through with her black Visa. She had never been to this world before.
They both settled into their seats and sipped at the coffee.
Jack looked at her and saw how uncomfortable she obviously felt, invading his life, showing up out of the blue, for obvious reasons. He wanted to see nobody, not even Kim, Chase or anyone else of his former colleagues. He had moved to this part of the city and made sure that nobody would find him here, because they couldn't help him anyway. Michelle had his address only for real emergencies, but she wouldn't show up anyway, after all the things that happened to Tony right now.
Audrey. Damn it. Of all people in the world, she was the last one he ever expected to show up here. Her presence here was like a diamond, thrown into a landfill. Yet, he didn't mind. Of all people, her sudden appearance felt bearable.
When he had left her, in that hotel room, two weeks ago, he had thought that this was it – the last and final time he'd ever see her. It was a one-night stand, right? She was a high-level DoD employee, and he was an unemployed ex-soldier, ex-agent. There'd be no reason ever to meet again.
During the past two weeks, he hadn't thought of her a single time. Well…. Most of the time he'd been high, that was why.
"Ask your question, Audrey.", he softly said, to take the pressure off her. He saw that she was still looking for the right words to say, the ones that wouldn't hurt him, the ones that wouldn't blame him for still being an addict, the ones that would be sensitive enough not to snub him but yet harsh enough to unmistakably tell him that he better quit the drugs.
She sneered. "I've had two hours to think about it… and I still haven't come up with the right words.", she answered.
"I guess there are no right words for this.", he sighed and leant back into the seat.
She silently sat there and watched him. Part of her had feared that he might be mad, if she'd just show up and invade his privacy like she just had. He obviously wasn't. He looked tired. Audrey counted the red marks on his arm – six. He seemed to have become an even worse user. His look fit the picture. The T-shirt he wore wasn't exactly clean. He hadn't taken a shower in quite a while. Compared to when she last saw him, he looked way worse.
"I haven't managed to get clean.", he spoke the obvious, opening his eyes again.
Audrey silently watched him stare into space. She decided to say nothing and just listen.
"I thought I could get out, but", he sighed and turned around to look into her eyes, "two days ago I almost OD'd."
She felt her heart sink, as she heard his words.
Did anyone else know about that? Most likely not.
Was there even a friend left in his life that he still talked to?
It had been one of the best choices of her whole life, she was suddenly sure, that she hadn't gone to the Dodgers game tonight, like the rest of the DoD delegation. This neighborhood was one of the worst places she'd ever seen, but right now, she felt that she needed to be here, to bring some good back into another person's life.
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