Denver and DC

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The soft hum of the plane's engines filled the cabin, which was only dimly lit that hour of the day. The day had been long. Demonstrations, a formal dinner, the ride to the airport, getting airborne. Now the lights were dimmed and everyone on board tried to catch some sleep. Jack sat near the rear of the plane, leaning into the corner of his seat with his jacket pulled close. His head tilted against the small pillow provided, but his brow furrowed faintly even in sleep. Every now and then, he shifted, his hand unconsciously grazing his side.

Audrey sat a few rows ahead, diagonally across from him. Heller was fast asleep in his seat, blindfold firmly in place, his steady breathing a sign that he wouldn't wake anytime soon. She glanced at Jack again, his expression catching her eye. It wasn't the first time during the flight she eyed him. Each time she looked, she noticed something new—the way his hand tightened over his ribs, the quiet grimace that flitted across his face before he adjusted again. Even though after that demonstration exercise, he'd changed back into his suit, she couldn't quite get that earlier picture out of her mind.

She sighed softly and looked away, but her concern wouldn't fade. After a few more minutes, she unbuckled her seatbelt and stood, careful not to wake her father.

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When she moved to the rear of the plane, where Jack sat, Audrey lowered herself into the empty seat next to his.

"Jack?" she whispered, her voice soft but insistent.

He stirred, blinking groggily as he turned his head toward her. "Audrey?" His voice was hoarse with sleep, and he rubbed his eyes, sitting up straighter.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her gaze darting to his hand, which was once again resting on his side.

"I'm fine," he murmured, his tone dismissive but not unkind. He shifted again, clearly trying to sit in a way that didn't aggravate whatever pain he was feeling. "What's wrong?"

"You've been clutching your side ever since we got on the plane. Are you really okay?" she replied quietly, her tone worried. "I mean… I get it that you probably didn't want to bring that up in front of General Matheson… or my father… but…"

Jack glanced toward the front of the cabin, where Heller's sleeping figure remained still. His voice dropped to match hers. "It's nothing, Audrey. Maybe just a few bruises."

Audrey's lips pressed into a thin line, her concern unshaken. "I saw the fight. That SEAL didn't hold back."

Jack shrugged slightly, wincing at the motion, but a smile flit across his face. "Neither did I."

Her eyes softened, and she reached for the small bag she'd carried with her. "Here. I asked the pilots for something. It's not much, but..." She pulled out the ice packs from the galley that were wrapped into the fireproof bag that usually carried some aircraft documents.

Jack looked at her, surprised. "Audrey, you didn't have to—"

"Just take them," she said firmly, placing the bag on his lap. "I thought... well, it's better than nothing."

He hesitated, then gave her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks." Pulling his jacket open slightly, he slipped the bag under it, pressing the cool packs against his hurting ribs. He exhaled, the relief immediate, even if the discomfort wasn't gone completely.

Audrey leaned back in her seat, watching him for a moment. "Some years ago," she said quietly, "for you, this was probably just another day at work."

Jack looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he nodded, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It used to be," he admitted. "Wouldn't have even made the highlight reel."

Her chest tightened at his words, and she dropped her gaze to her hands. She met his eyes again, her own filled with a mix of sadness and something she couldn't quite name. "Not any more. That's over."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of the plane filled the silence, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of fabric as Jack adjusted the ice packs beneath his jacket. He looked into her eyes and for just a short moment they were back where they were a month ago, in the middle of a conversation that went deep beneath their skin.

"Try to rest," she said softly, standing and smoothing her skirt. "It was a long day."

He gave her a small nod, leaning back against the seat. "Thanks, Audrey." He gestured toward the bag.

She smiled faintly. "Anytime."

She returned to her seat, settling opposite Heller, who remained blissfully unaware of the conversation. From her vantage point, she could see Jack as he closed his eyes again, his hand still resting lightly on his side.

Her gaze lingered, her thoughts swirling. The image of him in that brutal exercise played through her mind, stark and vivid. He was so far removed from this world of policy and politics, a man forged in an entirely different fire. And yet here he was, trying to navigate it, trying to find his place. And she had to admit that seeing him in his world was something that shook up unexpected feelings. Fear. Shock. She had heard him speak about that world before. But seeing it was something totally different.

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It had been four weeks since Denver, four weeks since that day where she'd seen a different side of Jack—one that lingered in her thoughts far more than she cared to admit. Life at the Department of Defense had resumed its normal rhythm, a constant hum of meetings, reports, and long hours. Yet, for Audrey, "normal" had taken on a different meaning. Jack was here, a quiet but undeniable presence in her world. She hadn't worked with him directly since Denver, and their interactions were fleeting—a quick hello in the tea kitchen, a brief exchange of polite smiles in the hallway, or a short nod during a meeting. Nothing more.

She didn't know much about his life in DC, though she'd made an effort to listen, to observe. A few details had trickled through the office grapevine: two weeks ago, apparently his daughter Kim had visited him. Audrey had overheard that from Janice, who had a knack for sniffing out every personal detail about anyone. Apparently, he and Kim had spent a weekend buying furniture for his new apartment.

The thought of Jack and his daughter, picking out sofas and tables together, struck her as oddly domestic, even sweet. She found herself imagining the scene—Jack probably deferring these decisions to Kim's judgment. It was a lovely image, a side of him she hadn't seen before. She wondered if it had brought him some peace, spending time with her, showing Kim that she still had an important place in his life, though he was thousands of miles away now.

It was also the excuse Janice had used to explain why she hadn't yet "slept with him" as she'd so boldly declared during his first week.

She'd also learned, mostly through subtle observations, that Jack wasn't exactly mingling with their office team. He kept to himself during work hours, rarely engaging in the easy camaraderie that others seemed to cultivate. Maybe it was intentional. Maybe he'd decided it was safer that way. Or maybe it was just who he was—private, guarded.

Audrey had, however, heard that he was spending time with a few guys from the second floor, men he knew from his Army days. They probably went out for beers, caught games at local bars. She imagined him in those settings, surrounded by old comrades, and she couldn't help but wonder what they'd talk about. Or if they'd drink one after the other, like some of his other comrades had.

Her mind sometimes wandered to what those evenings might look like. Did they sit in a crowded bar, swapping stories about their service days? Did women approach him? Or did he pick up women at the bar and the comrades were just an excuse to go there? Was there someone in his life now—someone new, someone not from the DoD, some girl Janice wasn't aware about?

It wasn't her concern. But the questions lingered all the same, teasing at the edges of her mind.

Her own life, by contrast, had become smaller. The tension between her and Paul had reached a breaking point. Their fight over the phone during her time in Denver had left a rift that neither of them seemed willing—or able—to bridge. She'd retreated back to her apartment, away from the house they'd once shared, away from the reminders of a life that felt increasingly distant.

She spent her evenings alone now, reading or watching old movies but mostly avoiding social events. And then, her thoughts often drifted to Jack. Not intentionally, she told herself. But every now and then, an memory of their weeks spent talking over that secure phone would surface—his voice had always been there, always been something to look forward to, the whole day.

And then there were of course the memories of Denver. She couldn't forget the way he'd commanded his team, the grit he'd displayed in that brutal exercise. It had left an impression on her, one she couldn't shake. Each time she saw him in the hallway now, it felt as though he carried that same energy, that same intensity. His movements seemed sharper, more precise, as though he'd been training again, regaining a physical edge she hadn't noticed before.

Maybe it was just her imagination. Or hormones, as she jokingly told herself. But every time she caught a glimpse of him, her pulse quickened just a fraction. She hated that it did, hated the way her mind seemed to latch onto those brief moments and replay them later.

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Audrey walked briskly through the halls of the Pentagon, a folder clutched in one hand and her thoughts focused on the brief memo she'd received from her father's office. The message was vague, but not unusual. Heller often called her in for quick discussions, so she hadn't thought much of it.

She approached the door, nodding briefly to the assistant stationed nearby before stepping inside. As she entered, her steps faltered. Jack was there.

He stood near the windows, not looking out, but standing almost at attention—his posture straight, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He looked every bit like a soldier waiting for his next orders. He only slightly acknowledged her as she entered, and the tension in the room was palpable.

Her father was seated behind his desk, calm but focused, his posture betraying the weight of whatever conversation was about to unfold. Audrey's stomach tightened. This wasn't a routine meeting.

"Close the door, Audrey," Heller's voice came from behind the large desk.

She hesitated for a brief moment, her gaze flicking back to Jack. His expression was unreadable—stoic and steady. There was something off about him.

Audrey pushed the door closed and approached, still clutching her folder. "What's going on?" she asked, trying to keep her tone even.

"Please have a seat, Audrey," Heller said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

Her pulse quickened. This wasn't normal. She glanced at Jack again, searching his face for any hint of what this was about, but his expression betrayed nothing. He didn't look cold—just impassive, as if he were just a machine, waiting for instructions. Even when she sent him a pointed look, his calm gaze seemed to tell her only one thing: You're not going to hear it from me. Listen to him.

Reluctantly, she lowered herself into the chair. Heller leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk as he spoke. "Audrey, I wanted to talk to you about your travel arrangements."

She blinked, thrown off by the unexpected topic. "My travel arrangements?"

"Yes," Heller continued, his tone steady. "I know how much hate traveling with your Secret Service detail, especially considering…" He hesitated briefly. "Considering that your colleagues aren't aware of the situation."

Audrey's stomach tightened. Her father was referring to the threat she'd been living under, the one she tried so hard to ignore in her day-to-day life. Her colleagues had no idea she was being protected… well, except for Jack. That much secrecy was exhausting enough without the constant presence of the agents, who were always hovering at the edges of her personal and professional life.

Heller's gaze softened slightly. "I know how much you value your independence, Audrey. But I want to find a solution that balances your safety with the kind of discretion you want to maintain around here."

Audrey didn't reply, her mind spinning. She could feel Jack's presence just behind her, quiet and steady, and it was unsettling to think he might already know more than she did about where this conversation was going.

Her father glanced at Jack briefly before continuing. "After Denver, I spoke with Jack. I asked him if he would be willing to… assist in this matter."

Audrey's head snapped up, her eyes darting between her father and Jack. Jack's posture didn't shift—still calm, still controlled, standing like the soldier she'd seen in Denver, ready for action but keeping his place.

"Assist how?" she asked carefully, her voice sharper than she intended.

Heller leaned back slightly, his hands clasped in front of him. "I asked Jack if he would be willing to act as your protection on certain trips and occasions where your usual Secret Service detail isn't ideal. Stealthily, of course. Unnoticed by your colleagues."

Audrey's heart raced. She turned fully in her chair, staring at Jack, but his face remained neutral, his gaze steady and not giving anything away. His silence was maddening. How long had he already known about this? Why had he said yes? Why hadn't he ever said anything?

"I want to respect your wishes about keeping the Secret Service protection a secret," Heller continued. "Jack could accompany you looking like a colleague, nothing more. Your usual detail is still available, if you want them. It's your choice."

Audrey was stunned. "Wh… what?" she stammered, her gaze snapping back to her father. "Why are you telling me this now? Denver was four weeks ago."

Heller's expression didn't waver. "There were preparations that needed to be made. I wanted to ensure this was viable before I discussed it with you. It's a practical solution, Audrey"

Audrey's mind raced. Preparations? What did that even mean? She glanced at Jack again, frustration boiling beneath her skin. He remained steady, calm, as though this entire conversation were happening in a vacuum.

"A practical solution," she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. She stared at her father, then back at Jack, her thoughts swirling. "So you two just… decided this? Without ever involving me?"

"We haven't decided anything," Heller corrected. "Jack agreed to the idea, but the choice is ultimately yours."

Audrey let out a short laugh, one that was more incredulous than amused. "How generous of you both."

Her father's expression tightened slightly, but he didn't rise to the bait. "This isn't about control, Audrey. It's about your safety."

Audrey stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "I need time to think about this," she said curtly, her voice low but firm. She couldn't stand being in that room a moment longer, especially not with her father and not with Jack.

She glanced at Jack one last time, her frustration spilling over. "Thank you," she said, her tone sharp and hollow, before turning and walking briskly to the door.

The moment it closed behind her, silence settled over the room.

Heller leaned back in his chair, letting out a slow breath as he watched the door close. "She didn't take that well."

Jack shifted his stance slightly, his arms falling to his sides, his posture relaxing just a fraction. "You feared she wouldn't."

Heller nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She hates being left out of the loop. Always has."

Jack didn't reply, his expression steady, but inwardly, a flicker of doubt surfaced. He'd known Audrey would push back against this arrangement—she valued her autonomy too much not to. But watching her reaction, seeing the hurt and frustration in her eyes, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that agreeing to this plan behind her back might have been a mistake.

He let out a slow breath, his gaze momentarily drifting to the door she'd just walked through. Should I have said no? The question gnawed at him. He'd thought he was doing the right thing—helping ensure her safety while giving her the freedom she so clearly craved. But now, seeing the anger in her, the way she'd looked at him like he'd betrayed her, he wasn't so sure.

"She doesn't realize it yet, but this is the best solution," Heller said, interrupting Jack's thoughts. His voice was steady, but his words didn't land as convincingly as they might have before Audrey's reaction. "For her, for everyone. She just needs time."

Jack's jaw tightened. He wasn't so sure time was all Audrey needed. She wasn't just angry—she was hurt. And that didn't sit right with him. He knew how fiercely she guarded her independence, how much she despised being kept in the dark. He could see now how this might feel like yet another instance of people deciding her life for her, without her input.

"Maybe we should have told her sooner." Jack said after a long pause, his voice low. "Let her be a part of the decision."

Heller regarded him carefully, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he sighed. "You want to go talk to her, don't you?"

Jack hesitated, but only for a moment. "Yeah. Maybe I can—"

"No." Heller cut him off, his tone firm but not unkind. "Don't. If you go after her, you'll only make it worse. Trust me. I know her."

Jack frowned, his instincts urging him to follow her, to try to explain. But he also knew Heller had a point. Audrey was fiery, stubborn, and fiercely independent—traits he respected but also knew could make her difficult to reach when she was upset. Pushing her now might only widen the rift.

"She'll come around," Heller said, his voice softening slightly. "She just needs time to process it. Once she sees the logic in this, she'll understand."

Jack nodded slowly, though his doubt remained. He couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just about logic for Audrey. It was about trust. About feeling like she had a say in her own life, especially when it came to something as personal as her safety. And he wasn't sure if time alone would be enough to fix that.

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