Baker City (Day 5).
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Jack felt the midday sun beating down as he worked on the roof underlayment, the heat radiating off the plywood and soaking through his shirt. They'd made good progress this week; Reid was thankful for it. Having an extra set of hands made a lot of the tasks easier, especially when it came to hoisting the heavy trusses into place. Jack hadn't felt this physically tired in a while, the kind of exhaustion that sunk into his muscles at the end of each 14 hour day. Then an hour spent with just one or two beers, take a shower, sleep on the old couch in Reid's much too small old house, get woken up at 05:30 by their little son, put on the washed out jeans and the borrowed old shirt, and get back up onto the roof.
Now, as he moved along the framework, securing plywood sheets one by one, his mind wandered in a direction he almost wished it wouldn't. It had been three days since Audrey had told him about the threat, and he hadn't been able to shake the unease that gnawed at him ever since. Every moment of reassurance he'd offered her felt empty in his eyes—his words, small things, what did they matter, coming from a thousand miles away. He was used to being the one who took action, who solved the problem. But now, here he was, reduced to just… words.
Jack drove another screw into the plywood, grabbed another from the box and moved six inches to the left. Repeat. Repeat. It gave him time to think. A psychologist—well, more accurately, a marriage counselor—had once told him that women didn't always want solutions. Sometimes, they just wanted to discuss their problems. He hadn't understood it back then. In his mind, talking about a problem without moving to solve it felt like wasted breath. But now, that advice felt strangely relevant. Comfort was all he could offer, even if it felt painfully inadequate.
Of course, he could take action. Of course, he had thought about it, had debated with himself at nighttime, whether he should just do it, without even asking Audrey if she wanted that. He could head to Portland, hop on a flight to Washington D.C., and then… what? Legally, he couldn't even carry a gun anymore; as an ex-junkie, he wouldn't get past the application process. Besides, he didn't even know where Audrey's apartment was. If he showed up on her doorstep, he'd likely raise more concerns with the Secret Service than the threat itself ever had. They'd see him as a loose cannon, an outsider barging in where he didn't belong. They'd maybe ask her some very unpleasant questions on why she had told an outsider about this threat, as he had no current clearance level at all. And then there was her husband, somewhere in the picture, adding yet another layer to the complication.
As tempting as the idea of 'just being there for her' had appeared in the beginning, he had realized in the meantime, that he just couldn't be there for her. It was simply impossible.
Jack drove in another screw, squinting against the sunlight that blazed from above. No, showing up wouldn't solve anything. He had to accept that.
Still, his mind wandered back to two days ago. During one of their calls, he'd done what he could to help, guiding her through the CIA's database system from the distance, talking her through the search, silently listening as she uncovered classified documents with the ease that came with clearance level 9. It was frighteningly simple, he'd realized, accessing information that should have been buried under layers of red tape. Every name, every detail, a reminder that this threat against her and the Secretary of Defense wasn't just a hypothetical risk.
The thought twisted in his gut. It wasn't his place to protect her anymore—he had no right, no authority, not even the proper resources.
As they sifted through the CIA reports together, Jack's initial assumption had been off. The reports weren't from field agents in the usual hotspots but from a financial intelligence unit, tracking suspicious bank transactions across the globe. According to the files, a massive sum had been transferred between two entities in the Middle East. At first glance, the transaction might have gone unnoticed, but two informants had linked it to Secretary James Heller—and surprisingly, to Audrey Raines.
Jack had kept his mind neutral as she read the files aloud, though he couldn't help feeling irritated at hearing that Audrey's name was so prominently mentioned, alongside Heller's. He didn't know much about the man and hadn't ever asked Audrey about him, because he couldn't have cared less about some politician. Men in positions like Heller's lived with the risk; that was part of the job. Accepting a role as Secretary of Defense meant carrying a certain level of danger, and Heller would have made that decision with open eyes.
But Audrey's involvement? That was harder to rationalize. She wasn't high-profile like the Secretary. She wasn't a political figure. Why was she targeted alongside Heller? A disconcerting thought crept in—could they be more than just colleagues? Heller was significantly older, sure, but in the circles Audrey moved in, power and ambition made alliances of all kinds. The idea unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. He quickly forced the thought away, annoyed at himself for jumping to that kind of assumption.
Audrey had explained it simply: she traveled frequently with the Secretary and was privy to nearly every detail of his schedule and decisions. That alone made her a valuable asset in the eyes of potential threats.
Maybe they'd targeted Audrey because they were after information. It would make sense, he thought, if they saw her as a more accessible path to what they wanted. Going after the Secretary of Defense, one of the most highly protected figures in the government, would be nearly impossible, but Audrey? She was a civilian, someone who knew Heller's every move but moved in the world without Secret Service protection and away from the scrutiny of the public eye. She had the knowledge without the fortress around her.
That had to be it. Jack gripped the beam tighter, feeling a slight release of tension with the conclusion. It was the logical explanation, and experience had taught him that the simplest, most straightforward answer was usually the right one.
"Jack!" Reid's voice cut through his thoughts, getting his thoughts back from Washington DC to Baker City. He glanced over to see Reid climbing the ladder with a fresh stack of plywood sheets balanced on his shoulder.
"You good over there?" Reid asked, his voice casual but with a note of observation.
Jack nodded, "Yeah. Let me help you." and tried to shake off the worry that had settled like a weight in his chest. He grabbed the plywood sheets off Reid's shoulder and the work continued, and Jack forced himself to stay focused on the task at hand.
Jack adjusted his stance on the roof, knelt down and kept working. He drove another screw into the wood, trying to keep his focus on the task in front of him. Six inches to the left. Another one. But no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept drifting back to Audrey.
Over the past few days, she'd been sharing bits and pieces about the situation—about the threat, about the Secret Service protection, about her growing frustration. He could tell from her tone how unwell she was feeling. She was exhausted, not from fear of an actual attack, but from the endless, oppressive waiting. The constant shadow of what might happen. And Jack knew how that felt; he knew that a threat without a clear end date could wear a person down like nothing else.
The more he thought about it, the clearer it became that Audrey was almost ready to face the danger head-on, just to have it over with. She hated the way her life had been turned upside down, her every move watched, her independence boxed in by agents and protocol. She wanted an end, even if it meant the attack would go down, just so she could get her life back. And as much as Jack wanted to tell her it would all be over soon, he knew better. He knew how these threats worked.
Jack exhaled slowly, picking up another screw. He'd been in the CIA long enough to know that some threats stretched on indefinitely, lingering in the background like storm clouds that might never break. Maybe the people tied to this threat would lose interest. Maybe they'd redirect their focus, or maybe the agents hunting them would catch a lucky break and shut it down. But maybe none of that would happen. Maybe the threat would hang there, unsolved, for months or years, while Audrey's life remained on hold, waiting for an attack that might never come.
He hated the thought. Hated that he didn't have the power to end this for her. All he could offer was the small reassurance he'd been repeating for days: that the Secret Service detail was strong enough to keep her safe. It was the only truth he had to give, and he clung to it himself, trying to believe it would be enough. For now, she had strong protection, and she was in good hands. That was something he could tell her without hesitation, something that would ease her mind, if only a little.
But he also knew how quickly things could change. In his line of work, he'd seen security details cut, resources pulled, priorities shifted. Someday, someone high up might decide Audrey's life wasn't worth the expense, that the continuing threat didn't justify the continued protection. And what then?
Jack drove another screw in, trying to push that thought away. He needed to believe in the protection around her, to hold on to the idea that it would be enough. It was all he had to offer her, and it was all she wanted from him—a reminder that she wasn't alone, that someone out there was sharing her fears, even if he was a thousand miles away.
The work dragged on. Jack's hands kept moving, driving screws into place, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Ever since Audrey had told him about the threat, he'd found it almost impossible to focus on anything but her. He carried the secure phone with him everywhere, no longer bothering to mute it. If it rang, he wanted to hear it. Reid and Jackie hadn't asked any questions about it—they thought it was just his personal phone, completely unaware it was a Department of Defense secure line. And, honestly, Jack preferred it that way.
From the start, Reid had assumed Jack was sneaking off to talk to a woman. After catching him disappearing every night for a hushed conversation and seeing him step away for a few minutes during the day, Reid had decided that "the caller" had to be Jack's girlfriend. Jack hadn't corrected him. It was easier this way. He didn't want to explain her situation, didn't want anyone knowing where she worked or why they needed this line. He didn't feel like telling them he was spending his nights worrying about threats to an advisor of the Secretary of Defense.
So he'd let Reid believe it. He even played along, giving the occasional vague smile when Reid or Jackie teased him about his "secret girlfriend." And in a strange way, it made things simpler. Reid's harmless assumptions softened the edges of the truth, turning his midnight calls into something that felt almost normal, almost like he was leading an ordinary life, where his biggest concern was a long-distance relationship and not a looming, faceless threat a thousand miles away.
Jack gave a half-smile as he drove in another screw, thinking of how absurd it was—this little charade around Audrey. But there was something comforting in that fiction, a simplicity he wished he could lean into more.
His mind lingered on everything Audrey had told him about life under the constant eye of the Secret Service. She'd tried to laugh it off at first, but he could tell from the way she described it—the grocery trips, the mundane errands—that it was wearing her down in ways he hadn't anticipated.
He thought back to how she'd described the simple act of grocery shopping, how every aisle felt different with that agent trailing behind her. She was hyper-aware of the people around her, wondering what they saw. Did they recognize him as Secret Service? Did they realize she was under protection, a potential target? Did people feel targeted too, maybe believing that they might get caught in some crossfire? Or did they think she was being stalked by some ominous guy in black, shadowing her every move, contemplating reporting this to the police? Sometimes she even wondered if people thought she was up to something herself, like a shoplifter on the radar of the mall security guard. It was ridiculous, but in her world now, suddenly nothing felt normal anymore.
Jack adjusted the drill in his hand, tightening his grip, trying to walk a mile in her shoes, every ordinary habit made strange by a pair of watchful eyes. Audrey had told him she missed driving, missed the freedom of slipping into her car and heading out to the beach for a run. Not that she couldn't run if she wanted to—the Secret Service had made that clear. If she wanted to jog along the shore, they'd be right there with her, whether running by her side or trailing in a car. But it wasn't the same. The idea of jogging with a federal agent, someone who'd probably be more focused on the surroundings than on the rhythm of the run, made the thought almost absurd.
Then there were the small freedoms she'd lost, the ones she couldn't even mention to her agents. Like those afternoons when she'd drive out to the beach, having put on her running pants, but these days she'd head straight to the hot dog stand instead of running. Or the days she didn't feel like doing anything at all—she'd just sit in her car, looking out at the Atlantic, lost in her own thoughts. Those moments of solitude, of quiet contemplation, were impossible now. She couldn't sit in her car and gaze out at the waves with Agent Garrett, stone-faced and silent, sitting in the backseat. Privacy, in its simplest form, had become a luxury she couldn't afford.
Jack felt a strange warmth as he thought about how she'd opened up to him about these personal details, these small but significant parts of her life that she could no longer enjoy. He was sure she hadn't shared these moments with anyone else. Sure, he had shared a lot of things as well, things that he had thought he'd never tell anyone. The thought of that connection, that trust, stirred something deep inside him, something he couldn't quite put into words.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm amber light over the mountains, Jack leaned back on the creaky porch chair, settling into the moment with Reid and Jackie around the makeshift dinner table. Jackie's stew sat steaming in their bowls, and the three of them shared a sense of camaraderie built through long days of hard work. Reid had kept the mood light, peppering the conversation with jokes about Jack's developing carpentry skills, while his girlfriend chuckled along, shaking her head at Reid's antics.
Just as Jack was about to reach for another drink, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, the familiar buzz he couldn't ignore. He took the phone with him everywhere, always within reach. Reid noticed immediately, a glint of curiosity lighting up his face.
"Oh, it's the secret girlfriend calling!" Reid teased, nudging Jackie with a grin.
Jack smirked but didn't deny it. He picked up the phone, answering it right there at the table, his voice low and steady as he spoke. "Hey, everything alright?"
Though he tried to sound casual, a trace of worry flickered in his eyes. For days now, every time Audrey called, he feared the worst—that the vague threat hovering around her life had finally materialized. But each time, her voice on the other end was just looking for a connection, a chance to talk. He felt the tension ease slightly as he reminded himself of this, his heartbeat still elevated but steadying back to an almost normal pace.
Audrey's voice floated through, reassuring and warm. "Hi. Yeah, everything's okay. How are you?"
He exhaled, a slight smile forming as he looked out over the hills. "Sitting on the porch, having dinner with Reid and Jackie."
Before he could add anything more, Reid reached over, a mischievous look in his eye as he snatched the phone from Jack's hand, chuckling as he put it on speaker.
"Hey there! We've been dying to know who you are. Jack's not telling us anything."
Audrey's initial surprise was clear in her pause, but then, hearing the friendliness in Reid's voice, she softened, a smile evident in her tone. For a second she considered giving him not her real name. But she dropped the thought. He was a carpenter in Oregon. He'd not be able to make any kind of connection to her at DoD. "Hi. I'm Audrey. Nice to meet you."
Reid grinned, catching Jack's eye with a raised eyebrow. "So, Audrey, gotta say, you're pretty nice to let your boyfriend run off to help us with the house for a whole month. We're lucky to have him."
From across the table, Jack called out with a laugh, "I said I'd stay a week, Reid. A week."
"Uh-huh," Reid shot back, winking at him. "We'll see how that goes."
Turning his attention back to the phone, Reid leaned in, curious. "Audrey, can I ask you something? Is Jack really serious about this plan of riding his bike all the way to Alaska? I mean, it's early March—he's got nothing but ice and snow waiting for him up there."
Audrey's laugh came through, light and genuine, as if she could see the ridiculousness of it, too. But she also knew that he was serious. He was the go-to-guy for crazy, as he had once said to her. "Oh, he's quite serious, I guess.", she confirmed.
Jackie shook her head, turning to him. "Jack, why would you pick the coldest, most remote place on the map to ride to? Couldn't you find any worse place?"
His gaze dropped for a moment, a shadow of something private crossing his face, but he shrugged it off, keeping his voice casual. "Why not? I've always wanted to see Alaska."
Reid chuckled, his voice laced with mock disbelief. "Can you make any sense of that, Audrey?"
"No, not really," she replied with a laugh, clearly amused. But actually, she could make sense out of it. She just instantly knew that Jack hadn't told Reid or Jackie anything about the plans he and Teri once had had.
Reid, unable to resist, pushed further. "Is that why you're not coming along?"
At this, Jack reached over quickly, reclaiming the phone from Reid's hand before he could pry any further. "Alright, alright. Let's give Audrey a break." He rolled his eyes, though a smile lingered on his face as he brought the phone back to his ear. "Sorry about that," he said to her, a little embarrassed but enjoying her inclusion in this easy moment.
"No worries," she replied, her voice warm. "Your friends sound nice."
Jack knew what she meant, and he could sense a touch of wistfulness in her tone. She hadn't had an evening like this in a long time—where the conversation was easy, the worries didn't contain threats or marriage problems, and the laughter was genuine. For Audrey, most evenings lately had been filled with strained silence or guarded small talk, with work associates who doubled as mutual friends of her "still-husband." But here, with Reid and Jackie teasing him about bike rides to Alaska, Jack could give her just a taste of that lost ease, of what it felt like to sit on a porch with friends, sharing a simple, ordinary meal. Something she hadn't had in years.
Jack caught the faint nostalgia in Audrey's voice, like she'd been missing evenings like this—ones where she didn't have to keep up walls or censor her words. But he sensed she also needed more than lighthearted teasing tonight, so he stood up from the table and walked a few steps away, finding a quiet spot on the edge of the porch. Leaving Reid and Jackie behind, out of earshot, he could finally settle into the conversation with her, letting her talk openly about everything she'd been holding back until now—her constant fear, her frustrations with the Secret Service detail, and all the things that weighed on her but that she could only share with him.
"Sorry about that," he apologized again, as he went a few steps further away. "After sneaking away for a phone call every night, they just assumed you had to be my significant other."
Audrey laughed softly, the sound carrying a warmth that eased some of the tension still lingering in Jack's chest. Significant other she repeated in her mind, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. She didn't mind the assumption—if anything, she liked it. She liked the thought of being seen that way, of his friends believing she was close enough to him to earn that title.
"Reid's just the type to fill in the blanks himself."
"No worries," she replied, and her voice was soft, almost thoughtful. She let the idea linger in her mind for a moment longer, finding herself drawn to it in a way she hadn't expected. She could picture it easily, Reid and Jackie teasing Jack about her, both of them assuming something simple and uncomplicated about their relationship. It wasn't true—at least not entirely—but the thought of being seen as significant to Jack filled her with a quiet warmth she didn't want to brush off just yet.
"Besides," she added after a pause, her voice turning playful, "if I'm your 'significant other,' maybe I should know—how exactly do you plan to survive Alaska in March?"
Jack chuckled, the tension from earlier easing as her teasing tone carried through the line. "I'll manage," he replied, his voice lighter now. "You know, you've probably become my significant other because you don't ask those kinds of questions." He said it playfully, his tone making it clear he didn't mean it seriously, but the words still carried a warmth and a hidden truth that lingered between them for a moment.
Audrey laughed again, the sound genuine, and for a moment, the weight of everything around them lifted. They stayed like that for a while longer, the conversation drifting between teasing and something unspoken but deeply shared. Even across the distance, they could still find these moments, where the world didn't feel quite so heavy. And for Audrey, it was enough to feel significant, even if just for tonight.
A while later, Audrey closed her eyes and leaned back, exhaling as she prepared to share the things she kept bottled up all day. These were the few minutes where she could let it out, talking to the only person who truly understood. Jack knew her life in a way no one else did; he knew her situation, her fears, her friendships, even the complications of her job. He knew what it meant to live 'in separation'. Of how it felt to be unable to talk about the job. He understood the weight of threats like this, the ever-present shadow that followed her. Jack didn't need her to explain every little detail—he'd lived it, and he understood how it worked, what a threat like this meant. He could see through the layers of protocol and judgment, and unlike anyone else in her life, he was able to grasp how serious the situation was without dismissing her fears or telling her to "stay calm." He even knew enough about the Secret Service's methods to know the limits of their protection, what they could realistically do and where their hands were tied. For her, he was someone who could judge the reality she was facing without either underestimating or overdramatizing it. For these few minutes each evening, she could finally be honest and open, letting the anxiety and frustration pour out without fearing that he would try to be a superficial comforter. And as he was 2000 miles away, he would simply listen, and that was all she needed right now.
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