Jack's 3rd week at DoD: Denver I
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Audrey sat at the desk of the conference room, waiting for her meeting to start. She was staring at the open spreadsheet on her laptop, though her focus was far from the screen. She couldn't help herself—her gaze kept drifting through the slats of the blinds to the scene playing out in the far corner of the office floor. Jack and Janice were talking, their conversation punctuated by Jack's easy laugh. The sound was faint from where Audrey sat, but it carried just enough to grate against her nerves.
Her stomach twisted as she watched them. Jack was holding a coffee cup, leaning casually against the counter of the tea kitchen. Janice stood close, too close, her posture impossibly relaxed, her body language screaming flirtation. Her hand brushed her hair back with an exaggerated motion as she tilted her head, laughing at something he had said.
Audrey's jaw tightened, her hands gripping the edge of the desk. There was no reason to feel like this. None. After all, she and Paul were moving forward again. She'd been spending her weekends at his house—their house—trying to rebuild something that had once felt like home. Her father had even noticed the shift, mentioning it casually during a meeting earlier in the week. And of course, Janice had picked it up.
Audrey could only imagine how Janice had brought it up to Jack. She probably said it in that same insufferable, knowing tone she used to needle her about anything and everything: "Audrey's said she spent a great weekend with Paul. Isn't that nice?" Audrey could practically hear the smug edge in Janice's voice, the subtle jab designed to stir something, even if she couldn't pinpoint exactly what.
What had she told Jack? And why? The thought gnawed at her. Maybe Janice had picked up on the tension, the unspoken history between them. Maybe Janice had picked up on the fact that she and Jack could easily communicate without any words, even in the meetings when they were all together. A few glances were enough. Maybe Janice was jealous of the dynamic she had with Jack. And maybe she was trying to lay her claim, to ensure Jack never entertained the idea of looking Audrey's way.
Audrey's gaze flitted back to the scene in the kitchen. Jack was smiling again, a genuine, warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. It was the kind of smile that broke his usual stoicism, the kind that Audrey had rarely seen. And it stung.
She thought back to Janice's condescending remarks during Jack's first week—the "heroin-addict-Cordilla-virus-guy" comments that had been as cruel as they were unnecessary. And now here she was, flirting shamelessly with him. The shift felt like a betrayal, even though it wasn't her war to fight.
It's a mission, she reminded herself. Jack had said as much two weeks ago. He was playing a part, trying to play Janice's game to learn what he could. But seeing them now, laughing like old friends, hit too close to home. The lines between strategy and reality blurred in a way that left her unsettled. She just realized that she could have never done the jobs Jack had: deceiving people, working for an intelligence agency, getting paid to lie. That just wasn't her thing. As much as she had instinctively trusted him – always – she was now reconsidering everything. Especially his trustworthiness.
She tore her eyes away, returning to the screen of her laptop, exhaling a long breath. The image of Jack and Janice lingered in her mind, and she hated how much it affected her. She hated that it mattered at all.
Her father's visit from yesterday came rushing back. He'd stopped by unexpectedly, a rare occurrence that always carried weight. His tone had been casual, but his words had been anything but.
"I've been keeping an eye on Bauer's progress. I want him to join us in Denver, when we meet the General Matheson," he'd said, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. "The matrix project—it's remarkable how much ground he's covered in just two weeks. Definitely helps that he was an instructor in Special Forces training." She had already noticed that he'd accomplished more in that short time than the entire team had managed in months.
Audrey had nodded, her expression carefully neutral. "He's good," she'd replied, though the understatement felt almost comical. Jack wasn't just good—he was relentless, focused, driven. And she knew that he took this job seriously. She believed that he knew that this was probably the only chance on a settled life he'd get, given his history. That he was very aware that he couldn't lose this job.
She made a mental note: Special Forces training instructor. She hadn't known that about Jack's past. As far as she remembered their conversations, she just knew he left Special Forces in '92. He had never mentioned anything about having been an instructor at the Special Forces training academy up to then.
Her father had continued, "Even Landow's stopped grumbling about the project being a lost cause."
"Good to hear," Audrey had said simply, not wanting to dwell too long on her own thoughts on Jack's past or his current project.
Now, sitting at her desk, she thought back to that conversation with a mix of pride and frustration.
She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. Jack was doing his job, and she had her own responsibilities to manage. And yet, the image of Jack's easy smile lingered in her mind, refusing to fade.
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A week later, Audrey sat in the quiet corner of the hotel lobby, her glass of Chardonnay resting lightly in her hand. The gentle hum of subdued conversations and the occasional clink of glasses at the nearby bar provided a comforting background. The day had been long, and while the wine helped to come down, her thoughts remained tangled in the events of the day.
She gazed out at the lobby's large windows, the faint glow of the city lights, blending with the stillness of the night. The taste of the Chardonnay was familiar as she sipped, but then her mind drifted again. Her father was on the phone with someone and that had halted their conversation for a while.
The meeting with the Navy Generals, the training department had been… unexpected. She thought back to the moment when the general—arrogant and condescending—had tried to dismiss Jack's work on aligning the training standards. It was meant to intimidate, a clear attempt to assert authority and brush off the project that was so important to Congress. Audrey had braced herself, expecting Jack to take it in stride, to defer politely and negotiate calmly as anyone new to the Pentagon's ranks might.
But Jack had done the opposite.
"With all due respect, sir," he'd said, his voice calm but razor-sharp, "your numbers don't add up. And we can't build a credible table on outdated facts. There has been significant practical drift in the system."
The room had gone still, the general's face shifting through several shades of irritation. Audrey's breath had caught as her gaze darted between Jack, her father, and the general. She'd expected her father to intervene, to smooth things over. Instead, Heller had leaned back in his chair, watching the exchange with an expression she couldn't quite read. Was it some kind of silent joy? Of having let his Rottweiler off the leash and not having any intention of calling him back?
Jack hadn't stopped there. He'd methodically laid out his findings, each point backed by meticulous data, his tone unwavering. The general had sputtered, trying to regain control of the room, but that had been a lost cause. By the end, even the general had been forced to grudgingly concede the validity of the DoD analysis.
Audrey shook her head slightly, a wry smile tugging at her lips. That moment had been quintessential Jack—direct, unflinching, and wholly prepared. It wasn't just impressive; it was disarming. She hadn't expected him to navigate Pentagon politics like that, but he'd proven once again that he wasn't to be underestimated. He didn't navigate this world politely. He cut through the crap. Straight to the point. And the blows he dealt obviously hurt. But he had taken some hits, too, today. Because the General had used each and every moment to fire back at him.
Her thoughts wandered back to the flight earlier that day. She had kept to herself, seated toward the back of the private jet, while her father had taken the seat opposite Jack's. They had spent nearly the entire three hours in conversation. Heller, always the pragmatist, had used the flight to dig into the man who now occupied a position within his inner circle.
Audrey had listened, half-focused on her laptop, as her father's probing questions that first concerned his project, then generally work at DoD, and then circled closer and closer to the heart of Jack's past. When Jack had finally declined the glass of whiskey Heller had offered, their conversation had inevitably turned to the underlying topic.
"So, you've got to take a drug test every two weeks, with the clearance office?" Heller had said, his tone blunt but not unkind.
"That's right," Jack had replied, his voice steady. "It was their condition."
Audrey had paused at that. What was it, in his words? A quiet pain of having to go through a degrading procedure, of showing a humiliating flaw? She hadn't known about the biweekly tests required to maintain the kind of security clearance he now held. Level 7. Two levels below hers. That was probably the most they were willing to grant a man with his past. When it came to drug abuse, the clearance office was notoriously strict.
Her father had continued, shifting the conversation to Jack's personal life. Audrey had heard Jack speak about Kim, with a warmth that he rarely displayed openly. He'd talked about her life in Los Angeles, about her boyfriend and their child.
"Are you a grandfather, then?" Heller had asked with a hint of amusement, as if marveling at the idea of a man more than twenty years his junior talking about the third generation. Heller himself wasn't even a grandfather yet. She knew he was sad about that. And somehow, it still stung, whenever she heard the word 'grandfather' from his mouth.
Audrey had shaken her head slightly at the question. The thought of Jack as a grandfather was almost absurd. He looked far too young, far too sharp to fit the role. And yet, the way he spoke about Kim—about heading back to LA whenever he could, wanting to be there for her, to make up for lost time caused by his years in the military and intelligence agencies—revealed a tenderness that still caught her off guard, even though she already knew about it. She had never expected Jack to let Heller into his world so easily. But they seemed to be getting along, and she instinctively felt that Jack was beginning to trust her father. And vice versa.
Her father had shifted gears again, offering quiet praise for Jack's work on the matrix project. "You're doing good work," he'd said, his tone gruff but sincere. "More progress in a month than others have managed in a year. Two administrations have already tried to get this done. And failed, after four years with no results."
It wasn't often that Heller handed out compliments, and hearing him direct one at Jack had been a rare moment. Audrey had felt a flicker of something—pride, perhaps? Happiness, for him? That his life finally took a turn to the better? Or just relief that Jack was proving himself in ways even her father couldn't ignore, that the man she had initially brought to DoD proved valuable.
Now, sitting in the hotel lobby, she thought back to the day's events with a mixture of pride and unease. Jack's confrontation with the general had been a victory, but it had also reminded her of the delicate balance he was walking. He wasn't just navigating the complexities of Pentagon politics—he was navigating her world, her father's world.
She glanced over the rim of her glass, catching a glimpse of him as he sat across the table, nursing his glass of ginger ale. He seemed calm, at ease, but she knew better. Jack was always thinking, always analyzing. It was just who he was. He hadn't let his guard down yet, and she doubted if he ever would – in a setting like this. Having been invited for drinks in the lobby by the Secretary of Defense and her, his closest advisor.
She took another sip of her wine, letting the warmth settle in her chest. The glass was nearly empty, and she didn't really want another. It was time to go upstairs, to call Paul, and then try to sleep. Though she feared rest would elude her, knowing Jack was sleeping just two doors down from hers. The day had left her with too much to think about, too many emotions swirling just beneath the surface.
She set her empty glass down gently as her father, seated a few feet away, continued talking on his phone. With a sigh, she stood, smoothing her blazer as she prepared to head upstairs. She caught Jack's eye and gave him a quiet nod, unable to speak without interrupting the call. He nodded back at her, silently wishing her goodnight in his own way.
As she passed her father, she brushed a hand against his shoulder. He looked up and gave her a brief smile before returning to his phone call. With that, Audrey made her way to the elevator, her thoughts still lingering on Jack, the day's events, and the intricate web they were both navigating.
Jack fought the urge to turn his head and look after Audrey. He couldn't—not with her father still sitting in the chair to his right, engrossed in his phone call. Instead, his gaze drifted to the empty glass of Chardonnay she had left on the table. He stared at it absently, his thoughts trailing after her as she disappeared toward the elevators.
Was she okay? Of course, she was. They were traveling with a formidable Secret Service detail. Four agents had been with them on the plane—two more had joined when they landed in Denver. These weren't Audrey's usual agents, but Heller's. Jack had noted their efficiency: two stationed in the lobby, one patrolling the hotel floors where their rooms were, and another on standby in the vicinity. Standard precautions, Jack inferred. Still, he couldn't shake the thought of just turning around and checking on her himself.
Heller finally ended his call, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling softly. His gaze followed where Audrey had gone, but she was already gone.
Jack waited patiently, knowing better than to excuse himself just yet. Heller poured himself the last of his whiskey, swirling the liquid in his glass as though weighing his next words. Jack recognized the look—a man gathering his thoughts, preparing for something pointed.
"She left early today," Heller remarked absently, his eyes lingering on the elevators where Audrey no longer was. Then, his tone shifted, becoming more deliberate. "Jack, where do you and Audrey know each other from?"
Jack's senses sharpened instantly. It wasn't an innocent question; it was a test. Heller wanted to confirm their stories matched, to catch any inconsistency. Jack had seen this maneuver before. He and Audrey had prepared for it, aligning their stories weeks ago over a quiet lunch in the cafeteria.
"About a year ago," Jack said smoothly. "I was in D.C. to brief the Intelligence Committee before a larger mission. CTU needed their approval to move forward. Audrey was part of the advisory team."
Heller studied him closely, his expression giving away little. "The Salazar mission," he said after a moment. "She mentioned that." He took a measured sip of his whiskey, seemingly satisfied with the response.
Jack didn't let his guard down. He'd played this game before, and Heller wasn't a man to ask casual questions without purpose.
Heller took a deep breath, his eyes returning to the elevators as if the weight of the day rested there. "How well do you know Audrey?"
The question hung in the air, loaded with subtext. Jack hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. "Audrey is a great colleague," he said carefully. "I have a lot of respect for her—her intelligence, her determination, the way she works."
Heller nodded slowly, as if digesting the answer. Jack saw the gears turning in his mind. Heller had noticed how well they worked together, how easily they communicated. Jack wasn't sure whether Heller was comforted or wary of it.
"I've seen you two work together well," Heller said, his tone neutral. "It's good to have someone she can trust. As a colleague."
Jack didn't respond, sensing Heller wasn't finished.
Heller shifted in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass again before speaking. "Audrey… is carrying a huge burden these days." His voice was quieter now, more reflective. "Has she told you she's under constant Secret Service protection?"
Jack's pulse quickened. Why was Heller talking about this? Were it the two glasses of Whiskey? He debated his response, not wanting to betray Audrey's confidence. "I figured as much," he said finally. "I've seen her arrive at the office a few times. She gets out of a car that's standard Secret Service material. Never joins the rest of the group for a drink after work."
Heller chuckled dryly. "There's hardly anything that escapes you, is there? After so many years in intelligence?"
Jack offered a polite smile but said nothing.
Heller leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "She hates it, you know. The Secret Service detail. Hates the way it uproots her life, invades her privacy. And I don't blame her. And I hate that she even needs it. That my work has brought this danger to her doorstep."
Jack met Heller's gaze, his voice steady. "You're doing what's necessary to protect her. You don't need to explain that to me."
Heller nodded, his expression softening as his gaze settled on Jack. For a moment, he was quiet, his thoughts turning inward. He studied the man sitting beside him, seeing not just a seasoned operative but a father—someone who had likely spent countless sleepless nights worrying about his daughter's safety. Jack had been in this position before, Heller realized, burdened by the weight of protecting someone he loved in a world full of threats. Heller thought of Jack's daughter, of the danger his work had brought into her life, and how Jack, like him, had surely wrestled with the impossible balance between duty and family. Palmer had told him a little about him - and that had stirred his curiosity.
In his polished, carefully controlled world, there were hardly any people who could truly grasp the depth of this fear. Other politicians might offer platitudes or strategic advice, and his security team might reassure him with protocols and plans. But none of them had stood in this exact spot, facing danger with the unbearable knowledge that their child's safety was a fragile, fleeting thing. Jack understood, not in theory, but in practice. He had lived it.
That made Heller's words easier, though they still carried a weight he rarely allowed himself to show. "I know," Heller said finally, his voice quieter now. "It's not easy, doing everything in your power to protect your daughter… and still knowing it might not be enough." He glanced toward the elevators, where Audrey had disappeared moments ago. "She's strong, but she doesn't see the full picture. She doesn't understand why I had to make this call for the Secret Service. And I can't force her to see it my way."
Jack stayed silent. There wasn't anything he could add to this. Painful memories stirred inside him. Of days when everything had fallen apart. Of learning Kim had been kidnapped. Of the moment when Nina had told him Kim had been killed. It had been a kind of pain worse than anything he'd ever been through. Even worse than losing Teri.
Finally, Heller broke the silence. "If you ever talk to Audrey about it… let her know how necessary it is. Tell her to be grateful for it. To take it seriously. Because if it comes from me, she won't listen."
Jack nodded, understanding the unspoken plea. "I'll mention it," he said softly. "Sometimes it's easier to hear it from someone else."
Heller gave a faint, weary smile. "Exactly."
Jack instinctively understood the dynamic. Fathers and daughters. It was the same with Kim. No matter what he said to her, no matter how well-meaning his advice, it was often dismissed simply because it came from him. He suspected Audrey was no different when it came to Heller.
Heller finished the last of his whiskey, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. He glanced toward the table and noticed Audrey's scarf draped over the back of the sofa she'd been sitting at. "She forgot this," he murmured.
Jack stood, reaching for the scarf. "I'll take it up to her. My room's on the same floor."
Heller nodded, seemingly grateful for the gesture. "Thank you, Jack."
Jack folded the scarf carefully and tucked it under his arm. As he turned toward the elevators, he felt the weight of Heller's gaze on him. It wasn't suspicion, exactly, but there was something deeply reflective in the way Heller watched him leave. Jack understood. He knew what Heller carried, and they shared an unspoken understanding. Right now, Seattle flashed through his mind. The few hours in which he had 'stolen' Audrey away from the secret service detail she despised so much. And right now, he was even feeling a little guilty for that. Audrey might have been grateful for it, but if Heller knew about it, he would have ripped him into pieces for it. And he had every right to, in Jack's opinion.
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