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Audrey blinked, her mind slowly adjusting to the soft morning light filtering through the fog outside the window. The skyline looked gloomy, shrouded in a haze that seemed to match the weight in her chest. She could almost pretend the events of the previous day had been a bad dream, but the ache in her belly was a harsh reminder that it hadn't been.
She stirred, clutching the blanket a little tighter as she glanced around and realized where she had spent the night—this wasn't her hotel room. She was in Jack's room. A flicker of embarrassment crept in as memories of last night returned: the overwhelming grief, the breakdown, and how he'd stayed with her, providing the steady presence she hadn't known somebody could even give. She hadn't even gone back to her own room. Somehow, she'd stayed here, in his bed.
At the sound of her movement, Jack turned from where he sat at the small table, his laptop open, fingers poised over the keyboard. A soft smile crossed his face, casual and calm, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He extended a hand, resting it on the blanket near her feet.
"Good morning," he said gently.
Audrey managed a small smile in return. "Morning."
The events of yesterday filtered through her mind in fragments—the frantic dash to the bathroom when the cramps had intensified, her bloodstained clothes, and Jack's unfazed offer to go to the drugstore down the road. She could still remember his casual mention of knowing exactly what she'd need, a surprising show of familiarity that had been both comforting and unexpected relief. She'd felt awkward about the whole thing—especially as he'd returned with her requested items and offered her his UCLA hoodie and sweatpants to wear, which she'd accepted without hesitation, despite her loyalty to Yale.
And now, here she was, waking up after spending the night in his bed, wearing his clothes. Nothing had happened between them; there had been no awkward tension, no misunderstandings. Just the quiet, simple comfort of his presence. For once, she'd spent a night with a man and had felt nothing but safety and companionship.
Jack watched her quietly, as if sensing her thoughts. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft but matter-of-fact, the same casual tone he'd used all night.
Audrey shifted, feeling the last traces of yesterday's pain still lingering. "Better, actually." She hesitated, then added, "Thank you. For… everything." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Jack gave a small nod, brushing it off as though it were nothing, but his gaze held a sincerity she hadn't seen before. "You don't have to thank me, Audrey," he said simply.
She pulled the blanket closer, taking a deep breath. The fog outside seemed to mirror the fog in her mind, clouded with emotions she wasn't ready to face just yet. But his calm presence, his unwavering support, made the situation feel strangely manageable. She didn't have to explain herself or pretend; she could just be.
"Did you sleep at all?" she asked, noticing his laptop and the dark circles under his eyes. He must have climbed out of that much too small bed after she had fallen asleep.
Jack gave a wry smile. "A little," he said. He shrugged, as if it were a natural thing to stay awake half the night for someone else.
Audrey's heart squeezed at his words, the simple kindness in them. She wasn't used to anyone putting her needs first. "You didn't have to do that, Jack," she said softly, though part of her was deeply grateful he had.
He only shrugged again. "I'd do it again."
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before he broke it with a casual question. "Coffee? Or I could see if the hotel has some half-decent breakfast options."
Audrey felt herself relax, a hint of normalcy slipping back into the morning. "Coffee would be perfect," she replied, watching as he moved to the small in-room coffee maker. She noticed that he must have changed clothes during the night. He no longer wore the shirt with her mascara stain on it, instead he wore a simple white T-shirt… but still the same pants he'd worn yesterday. She realized that he probably didn't have anything else to wear, since he'd give her his only set of sweatpants.
As he prepared the coffee, Audrey let herself lean back, allowing a tentative peace to settle over her. Maybe she wasn't quite ready to face everything that had happened, but with Jack here, she didn't have to do it alone. The thought brought a quiet relief she hadn't known she needed. They were just friends, but for now, a friend was exactly what she needed.
Later, Jack walked beside her as they made their way toward the gates at the airport. They hadn't talked much in the past few hours.
She hadn't felt like eating at breakfast, and he hadn't pushed. He had grabbed a sandwich for himself before they left the hotel, and she had gone back to her own room to change. When she packed her suitcase, she carefully folded his sweatpants and UCLA hoodie inside, telling herself she would wash them and give them back.
But after all the little things were done, the room cleared out, the suitcase packed, the one and only thought returned to her mind: her child. The one she'd lost.
Again.
Had she ever really hoped?
It was always a distant dream, something just out of reach. She had been realistic, hadn't she? She had known that however long the pregnancy lasted, she would never make it to the end.
That thought sat heavy in her mind for the entire flight back to D.C. She barely looked at Jack as he sat next to her, working on something on his laptop. He was focused, composed—just like always. Like nothing had happened.
She stole a glance at him. He had changed back into his suit before they left Atlanta. His posture was relaxed but alert, his expression unreadable. He looked impeccable. Not like a man who had spent the night holding someone while they cried. Not like a man who had quietly gone out in the middle of the night to buy her tampons and painkillers. Not like a man who had sat by her side, awake, making sure she was all right.
But as plain and inconspicuous he looked like, there was so more to him. She had seen the shoulder holster beneath his jacket when he slipped off his cardigan yesterday. Now she also knew where his second gun was—tucked away at his left ankle, completely invisible unless you knew exactly what to look for.
It wasn't the guns that made her feel safe. It was him.
Two hours passed in silence, the hum of the airplane filling the space between them.
When they landed at Reagan National, Jack turned to her, voice level. "You want to grab something to eat before we head back to the office?"
She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."
He didn't push. He just nodded, but as they made their way through the terminal, he grabbed sandwiches again.
By the time they reached the Pentagon, he handed her one of the sandwiches without a word. It wasn't a question. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a quiet you need this. She didn't argue. She didn't have the energy to.
An hour later, Audrey sat at her desk, staring at the sandwich, debating whether she could force herself to take a bite.
Her gaze drifted across the room to her suitcase, sitting by the wall. His clothes that he had lent her were inside.
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
Last night should have been humiliating. The whole thing—breaking down in his room, stepping out of the bathroom in bloodstained pants, borrowing his clothes. If it had been anyone else—even Paul—it would have been unbearable.
But with Jack, it somehow hadn't mattered.
She imagined how it would have gone if she had been with her Secret Service detail instead of him. Knocking on Agents Garrett and Callahan's door in the middle of the night, telling them she needed to go to a drugstore for sanitary towels and painkillers. Walking under fluorescent lights at 2 a.m., feeling like she was bleeding out, having stuffed her pants with toilet paper just to get there, always under their constant watch.
The thought made her shudder.
Jack had spared her from that.
And maybe, technically, he had even broken protocol by leaving her alone when he headed out to the store. He had left her one of his guns on the bedside table. Had told her not to open the door for anyone. And then he had walked out, taken care of what needed to be done, and come back like it was nothing, as if he instinctively felt how hurtful it would have been for her to make that trip.
She took a reluctant bite of the sandwich.
Jack knew now. He was the only one who knew.
For a moment, she debated telling her father. If she had made it past the third month, she probably would have. It would have been his right to know.
But now?
No.
What would be the point? Walking into his office just to tell him I was pregnant, and now I'm not? What good could that possibly do?
The only outcome she could see was bad. Her father thinking she hadn't been focused enough on her job. That she hadn't taken her career seriously.
No. That wasn't fair. He wouldn't think that.
He would have been happy. He had wanted to be a grandfather. He would have asked about Paul. About the future. If they'd try again.
Audrey swallowed hard.
Paul.
She would never tell Paul.
And she wouldn't tell her father. Or anyone else.
This was something between her and her OBGYN.
And Jack.
A shadow passed outside her office door. The frosted glass blurred the figure, but her breath caught for just a second. Was it him? Or someone else? Janice? Mark? The shadow was gone again.
They could never know.
They would circle like vultures, whispering behind her back, waiting for her to leave.
No.
This was hers to carry. Hers alone.
And she knew—without a shadow of a doubt—that if there was anyone in the world she could trust to keep this secret, it was him.
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Jack pulled the Secret Service vehicle into the driveway near the Pentagon's west entrance, where Audrey's usual detail usually picked her up when taking her home. He hadn't planned to offer, not at first—but as she gathered her things at the end of the day, the words had come out without much thought.
"I can drive you home," he had said. "I still have the Secret Service car. I need to return it anyway."
She had hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Okay."
Now, as they drove through the quiet streets of D.C., neither of them spoke. The city lights flickered past in a blur, reflecting off the windshield. Jack kept his focus on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy—like the weight of something unspoken pressing down on both of them.
Audrey didn't seem to mind. Maybe, like him, she didn't want to fill the space with meaningless words. Maybe she was grateful that it was him here, and not her usual agents.
He was grateful, too.
When they arrived at her apartment building, Jack pulled up to the curb and put the car in park. Without a word, he stepped out, walked around to the trunk, and pulled out her suitcase. It wasn't heavy, but he carried it anyway because he'd seen her state yesterday. The cramps that made her bend over and curl into a ball.
"I'll take it up," he said.
Audrey didn't argue. Maybe she didn't have the energy to. Maybe she did feel the lingering ache in her belly, though she'd never complain about it. Either way, she let him follow her inside.
The building was quiet as they ascended the stairs to the second floor. Their footsteps barely made a sound against the polished floors. The air between them remained thick with silence, but neither of them tried to fill it.
He didn't know what to say.
A simple How are you? felt useless—worse than useless. He'd been in this place before. The kind of grief where any words, however well-intentioned, only made it worse. Where the wrong question forced you to lie—or worse, dragged up the kind of memories you were trying to bury.
So he stayed quiet.
At her door, he set the suitcase down beside her. She reached for the handle and fumbled with the key.
Jack finally spoke, his voice low. "Do you have everything you need?"
It was the only thing he could think of. The only thing that felt right to ask.
Audrey's answer was just as quiet. "Yes."
She stepped inside, pausing only to look back at him. "Thank you."
Jack nodded. He lingered for just a second longer, but there was nothing else to say. Nothing else he could do.
So he turned and walked away.
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He drove through the quiet streets, past the gates of the secured community where Audrey lived, heading toward the Secret Service headquarters to swap cars. The guard at the community entrance gave him a nod, probably noted down the time he left, the car, his name that he knew by now.
The reinforced vehicle handled smoothly, far better than his own—after all, it was built for security, for defense. It had hidden compartments for extra weapons and armor plating strong enough to stop a rifle round. Standard Secret Service procedure. Whenever he was 'officially' acting as Audrey's detail, he had to head over to the Secret Service headquarters, sign out one of their vehicles, report to the central command that he was picking up Audrey, leave a note with the intended route and check in every now and then. Except for the car, she didn't seem to have noticed yet how much protocol was actually involved in her protection.
But right now, Jack barely noticed any of that.
His mind was still on yesterday night.
What was she doing now? Sitting alone in her apartment? Crying? Trying to sleep?
He doubted she had anyone else to turn to tonight.
Would she even want anyone near her?
He thought about what she had told him months ago, about how she had never truly expected to carry a pregnancy to term. This time, she had probably known it from the beginning on that wasn't going to last.
But knowing that probably didn't make it hurt any less.
Hurt. It was a feeling that was just so familiar. His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly as the memories surfaced—memories he hadn't thought about in years.
Teri. That last day. The last time he'd seen her…. The last time he'd held her in his arms, during that helicopter ride back to CTU. The soft smile on her face because she thought it was all already over. He hadn't ever expected this to be their last few minutes together.
He thought back to the later hours of that day, when she'd told him – just an hour before she died "I'm pregnant, Jack." How she had asked him, if he'd be happy, being a father again.
He had been so tired, so worn down after that hellish day—but those words had cut through the exhaustion.
And then, less than an hour later, she was gone.
He inhaled deeply, willing the memory away. It didn't help.
He didn't know what it felt like to lose an unborn child. Not the way Audrey did. But in some way, he did know.
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By the time he came home, his body was running on autopilot—lock the door, check the windows, hide one of the guns in the drawer next to the door, set the other gun down on the nightstand. A routine so ingrained that he could do it half-asleep.
He barely touched the food in his fridge. He hadn't eaten much today, either. Maybe he should've grabbed another sandwich.
It didn't matter.
What mattered were the thoughts running through his head, the weight of the last twenty-four hours and the past pressing down on him. He had spent the last few years learning how to push past pain, how to compartmentalize, how to move forward without looking back.
But tonight, it didn't seem to be working. Somehow, some things just came back.
He could still feel Audrey lying in his arms, her voice barely above a whisper as she had told him about her loss.
He could still hear Teri's voice, asking him if he was happy, being a father again.
And somehow, these two merged into one another.
Jack exhaled and ran a hand over his face. He needed sleep. He had been awake most of last night and he knew from the past that exhaustion was one thing to bring back such memories.
So he stripped down to his T-shirt and boxers, climbed into bed, and shut his eyes. But even in the quiet, even in the darkness, his mind didn't stop.
It was still back there—with Audrey, back in the hotel room.
And with Teri, during that helicopter ride.
And with the second chance he never got.
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The following day, Jack walked into the Pentagon with a plan. He'd already thought of an excuse to see Audrey again—officially, without drawing any attention of their colleagues. He wasn't sure what he expected from her, but after leaving her alone last night, a part of him needed to check in. To see with his own eyes how she was holding up.
He wasn't sure she'd even want to see him. But that wasn't going to stop him. So he went straight to Janice's office.
"Got a minute?" he asked, keeping his voice casual.
Janice looked up, surprised for a second before a slow, pleased smile curved her lips. "For you? Always." Jack did his best to hide his actual feelings and be friendly to her. He leaned against the edge of her desk. "I have a question about the McLennan project," he said smoothly. "The Secretary wants a budget review on it but I'm not sure which file number to look into. There are three."
Janice tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "That's Audrey's project."
Jack feigned mild surprise. "Oh? I figured you'd be involved."
Janice's expression shifted slightly—her ego clearly flattered by the implication. "I am, but if you want anything concerning the budget, you should really talk to Audrey." She paused, giving him a knowing look. "She knows which number is the current one."
Jack nodded as if considering this. "Okay. Then I'll check with her."
For the next minute or two, he endured Janice's usual flirtations—something about going out for drinks again next week, some suggestion that he should join her. He played along just enough to keep her talking, to keep her unaware of his real reason for being here, that he just wanted to have an excuse to disappear into Audrey's office in front of her prying colleagues' eyes, without any questions being asked.
Then, just as he was about to walk out and head to Audrey's office, Janice called him back.
"Oh—actually, you'll have to ask her later," she said casually, barely looking up from her computer. "She called in sick today."
Jack froze.
It was a fraction of a second, barely noticeable to anyone but himself, but the words caught him off guard. Audrey called in sick?
He masked his reaction quickly. "Okay," he said evenly. "I'll check in with her when she's back."
He turned and walked away, his mind racing.
As he passed by Audrey's door, he glanced at it, just for a second.
She wasn't here.
Damn it.
She was probably sitting at home alone, crying. Or was she really having medical problems? The ones she hadn't really talked about but that he had noticed anyway?
Jack exhaled sharply and went to his own office, but his mind wasn't in his work. The entire day, no matter what he tried to focus on, a nagging thought kept pulling him back.
Audrey.
Was she eating? Or just curled up on her couch, refusing to move?
Was she in pain?
Was she letting herself spiral?
He hated not knowing. By mid-afternoon, he was done pretending to work. He had enough overtime built up to justify leaving early, so at exactly 3:07 p.m., he shut down his computer, grabbed his things, and walked out. He didn't tell anyone where he was going.
The first thing he did when he got home was strip off the suit. He felt like he couldn't breathe in it today. He threw on a pair of jeans, a dark sweater, and his leather jacket—something that felt normal.
And he planned to head over to Audrey. He wasn't sure what he was planning to say when he got there.
Would she even let him in? Of course she would, he guessed.
Would she be angry that he showed up unannounced? Didn't matter.
He grabbed his keys and left for the motor pool at Secret Service HQ. The reinforced SUV was right where he left it. He signed it out like it was routine, like he was just another agent taking care of business. No one questioned him. He reported heading over to Audrey to pick her up, and gave them their planned destination. And during all that, he was glad that Audrey didn't know that much about the Secret Service protocols, that he needed to report any movement they were making. Well, HQ tracked the car anyway. But they'd compare this to Audrey's tracker, to the route plans he'd given them, and if something wouldn't add up, they'd believe he and Audrey were in trouble.
As he gave them their destination, even Jack felt watched. He hated that every one of his movements was tracked, especially something as private as checking in on Audrey after what had happened. But he had had the whole day to think of excuses and lies to spend some time with her, without the Secret Service HQ getting too nosy about it. Just make it look like routine.
He got into the car, turned the key, and pulled out of the lot.
And then, without hesitation, he headed straight for Audrey's apartment.