Pre-S4: DC, Pentagon
.
.
.
Jack couldn't quite believe where he was. The steady click of his new shoes echoed faintly as he crossed the expansive entrance hall of the Pentagon's west gate. The Pentagon. He hadn't set foot here in three months, not since his final debriefing—a meeting that marked the end of his career with CTU and which, he'd thought, would be his last connection to this world.
But a lot had happened in those three months. He had fought addiction and, against all odds, started to rebuild the pieces of his life. His relationship with Kim had almost returned to something resembling normal, a fragile truce they were both working to maintain. He'd ventured to Alaska in what could only be described as a selfish midlife-crisis trip—one he still found himself laughing about in rare moments of levity. And through it all, he'd spoken to Audrey. Over and over, sometimes for hours, sometimes just for minutes, her voice a constant thread pulling him forward.
Now, walking through the halls of a place he thought he'd left behind forever, Jack found his thoughts circling back to her. Where would her office be? He wondered. Somewhere in the inner ring, no doubt, in one of the higher levels given her position. He'd never been on those levels before, the ones reserved for the kind of people who moved pieces on the chessboard rather than got played in the game themselves.
He stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the second floor. Audrey had said she'd meet him there. The visitor tag clipped to his new suit caught his eye, a stark reminder of how far removed he was from the man he used to be a while ago, when he'd still had an active security clearance. The suit itself, the shirt, the shoes, even the tie, were last-minute purchases—bought hurriedly from a shopping center near the small airfield he'd landed at just outside D.C. His casual clothes (he hadn't packed anything else for the trip to the Keys) weren't exactly Pentagon material, and he hadn't even bothered to book a hotel yet. He wasn't sure how long he'd be here, but judging by the way Audrey had talked on the phone, it looked like she was preparing for an all-nighter.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing a stark corridor lined with uniformed personnel and suited officials moving with purpose. Jack stepped out, taking a moment to orient himself. It wasn't the familiar buzz of CTU, but there was a similar undercurrent of seriousness in the air.
He couldn't help but think about how the day had started and how different it had turned out in the end. Just this morning, he'd been planning a straightforward flight from near Dallas, hoping to reach Georgia or northern Florida by nightfall. Instead, he'd diverted to Meridian Naval Air Station at Audrey's request.
They had been expecting him. As soon as he landed, the tower controller had directed him to a taxi stand where a young lieutenant had been waiting. The formality had caught Jack off guard—being addressed as "Captain Bauer," a reminder of his reserve status with the Army, felt almost surreal. But of course, Audrey had used it. It was better than leaving them with the picture that she'd just get a landing clearance for a small plane to talk to a friend. The lieutenant had led him to a secure room with soundproof walls and a secure line.
Then, he had called Audrey.
To his surprise, her problem had nothing to do with the threat hanging over her and the Secretary of Defense. Instead, it was a mess of politics and bureaucracy: a budget proposal tied up in layers of supposed corruption. Audrey was tasked with reviewing and defending the budgets of multiple agencies—a Herculean task made worse by the fact that the proposal had been drafted by the previous administration and half of Heller's team couldn't be trusted, she said, because they used to work for the other administration and were still loyal to their former mentors. Hidden within the numbers, she was sure, were gaps and misappropriations that would funnel good money into bad hands. They expected her not to notice, and if she didn't notice, everyone would flag her as gullible, an easy prey. But Audrey wasn't one to let things slide, and now, she needed someone who could judge from the numbers if they were appropriate or not. One who could judge how much missions of whatever kind would approximately cost. How much gear an agency would approximately need. One who could help her decode the language, the innocuous headings masking classified operations or outright corruption.
Jack had spent the entire five-hour flight to D.C., including a quick fuel stop, turning the problem over in his mind. He'd never tackled something like this directly, but he wasn't a stranger to the way these budgets worked. As director of CTU, he'd reviewed enough proposals and expenditures to know what to look for. He'd hidden some numbers himself in these budgets, to have some money at hand to pay informants, or to be able to pay some kind of a bonus to people who really deserved it but who would officially never qualify. Unimpressive line items could hide entire operations—or worse, they could hide the flow of money into the wrong hands.
Now he was here, about to dive into something he'd never imagined himself doing. Reviewing a cross-agency budget wasn't exactly his skill set, but it was close enough to familiar territory that Audrey thought he could help. Or at least, she hoped that she could openly discuss this with him, because there was no-one else in the team she seemed to trust enough.
The corridor was quieter here. He glanced at his watch—8:03 p.m. He leaned slightly against the wall, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, trying not to think too much about how out of place he felt.
This wasn't his world. It hadn't been for a long time. It actually had never been. But as he waited for Audrey, the unease he'd carried all day began to settle. She needed him. And no matter how foreign this environment felt, no matter how much he had told himself he was leaving it all behind, there was no part of him that could ever say no to her.
"Jack."
He turned quickly at the sound of her voice. "Audrey."
She stood just a few feet away, having appeared so quietly it startled him. He realized she must have come down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. For a moment, he was frozen, unsure how to greet her. Should he extend a hand? A hug? He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came; a hug would feel wrong here, too intimate in a space that wasn't theirs. And yet, the memory of their last embrace lingered, unshakable—her arms wrapped tightly around him during their goodbye in Seattle three and a half weeks ago. He could still feel the warmth of her body against his back from their ride on the bike, but here, in her world, everything felt different.
"Follow me," she said abruptly, before he could respond. Her tone was hurried, almost flustered, and she turned back toward the door she had just come through.
Jack hesitated briefly before falling into step behind her. He couldn't help but notice how strikingly composed she appeared in contrast to the awkwardness of their greeting. Gone was the casual warmth of Seattle. She was every inch the professional now, dressed in a dark-blue dress suit tailored perfectly to her frame, the click of her medium high heels echoing through the quiet hallway. Jack realized with a small start that wearing them, she was almost taller than he was. Her outfit and demeanor exuded elegance and sophistication, and he couldn't help but feel out of place beside her. This wasn't his level, clearly.
But she looked nervous too, he thought, catching the way her hands moved awkwardly for a moment, as if she had briefly debated whether to come closer or extend a greeting. In the end, they hadn't even shaken hands. It would have felt wrong, too formal given their history, yet anything more would have been inappropriate here. Jack silently followed her lead.
As they ascended two flights of stairs, his thoughts wandered. He studied her carefully from behind, noting the way her posture carried the weight of her position, even as he caught small signs of strain. She reminded him of three months ago, the night after his final debriefing here at the Pentagon. And then the memories of that day came back. Not the evening thereafter spent with her, not the night thereafter that he couldn't remember anyway, no, the day before all that. That day he had spent here, officially debriefing, and every glance in his direction had felt like a judgment. Even his victories—his role in the Cordilla virus crisis and the Salazar mission—had been overshadowed by the stain on his record. His addiction. How dare a junkie set foot here, have the effrontery to even come to the Pentagon and be part of an official debrief?
Was that why she had taken the stairs instead of the elevator? To avoid being seen with him? He shook the thought away. He didn't know, and it wasn't fair to assume. But the nagging doubt lingered, souring the moment.
They reached the third floor, the air even quieter than the almost empty hall below. The corridor was deserted at this hour, the offices locked and dimly lit. Each successive name plate showed titles that reflected increasing importance: Policy Advisory, Deputy Advisor for Defense Strategy. General so-and-so. Mister so-and-so, PhD. When they passed the door marked Office of the Secretary of Defense, James Heller, Jack's stomach twisted slightly.
Audrey's pace didn't falter as she swiped her ID through several security locks. Jack noticed the offices grew progressively more refined, the furniture behind each door glimpsed in passing becoming more expensive. Finally, they reached the last lit office on the floor, its door ajar.
Audrey Raines, Senior Policy Advisor.
Jack's eyes flicked to the nameplate as he followed her inside. The office reflected her perfectly—efficient and organized, with a subtle warmth that made it more inviting than imposing. The desk was covered in a ton of papers. Two monitors displayed rows upon rows of data, numbers scrolling endlessly.
"Make yourself comfortable," she said, dragging a second chair over to her desk. To his surprise, she placed it beside her rather than on the opposite side. "Do you want some coffee?"
"Yes, please," he replied, suppressing a yawn. The fatigue was catching up with him now—seven hours of flying and the day's events pressing heavily on his body. He would have preferred a bed to a coffee, but that wasn't an option tonight.
Audrey handed him a mug, her fingers brushing his briefly. She sat down beside him, her posture straight but her movements calm and deliberate as she pulled up the relevant files on her screen. Her voice was steady as she explained the issue: funds hidden within the sprawling defense budget, disguised as legitimate expenses but likely rerouted to serve corrupt interests. The goal was clear: someone was stacking up slush funds or projects that could destabilize Heller's decisions, either to undermine him, set the stage for his resignation or just finance projects that he'd never approve. The culprits were likely moles from the previous administration, but even members of Heller's own party could be complicit, hungry for his job.
Jack listened intently, impressed by the gravity of her work. He had known this level of the hierarchy was dirty—his own hands had often felt stained from the morally murky operations at CTU—but this was a different kind of dirty. Bureaucratic, cold, and deliberate. It was the kind of corruption he had glimpsed through Ryan Chappelle's world but had never directly engaged with.
As he scanned the budget files, it didn't take long for something to catch his attention. His finger paused on a line item: "Facility Supplies – Kandahar District 3 - $2,870,000."
"This one doesn't make sense," he said, tapping the entry. "Kandahar District 3. That region doesn't even have active bases anymore—not since 2002. I know because I was there when they evacuated. The area was deemed strategically useless and too dangerous to maintain."
Audrey frowned, leaning in beside him. "Are you sure? The description makes it sound like a supply drop to a military outpost."
Jack shook his head. "There's no outpost there. It's a dead zone—literally. Whatever's listed here, it's a front. Someone's moving money elsewhere and using a nonexistent base as cover."
Audrey's lips pressed into a thin line. She flagged the entry in the system, making a note to cross-reference it with other transactions.
They leaned into the work, the keyboard and the rustle of papers becoming the only sounds in the quiet office. They combed through the labyrinthine budget, their focus sharpening with each anomaly they uncovered, crosschecking items, checking for duplicates – and there were many. Lines of text blurred into rows of numbers, clusters, webs of financial flows, but patterns began to emerge—patterns that told a story of corruption hidden in plain sight. A line item for logistics at Bagram Air Base seemed inflated by millions, far beyond what even the most extravagant contracts could justify. Another entry, marked as reconstruction overhead for a town in Iraq, raised red flags with its staggering costs, far outstripping any legitimate expenses for decades.
With each discovery, the implications grew darker. These weren't just accounting errors; they were deliberate misdirections—funds funneled through inflated projects, phantom facilities, and vague classifications. Jack's military and CTU experience gave him an edge, allowing him to spot the inconsistencies that others might overlook. Beside him, Audrey worked tirelessly, flagging entries and cross-referencing names and authorizations, her expression growing more resolute with every revelation.
As the hours stretched on, they began to see the bigger picture behind it, the one that Audrey had suspected to be there from the beginning on, but hadn't been able to disclose, without his help—an entrenched network of power and money, hidden in the bureaucracy and wielded by those who believed themselves untouchable. And most likely, they had expected it to be an easy game, they'd probably taken her as a gullible, unexperienced greenhorn, who after a few months in office was tasked with a budget review that was exceeding her capabilities by far.
But Jack couldn't help but be impressed by Audrey. Her focus, her instincts, and her relentless determination were remarkable. She hadn't just stumbled onto these discrepancies—she had suspected the truth all along and had the skills to start uncovering it. Well, she had needed his help for the details, but it was only because she had already done the heavy lifting, connecting dots and seeing through the deceit others had missed.
Watching her now, so composed yet driven, he admired her more than ever—not just for her compassion or whatever bond they shared, but for her sheer capability and willpower. Audrey wasn't here by chance. She belonged in this place, and Jack found himself quietly in awe of her strength and resolve.
A while later, Jack was immersed in a list of numbers when a sudden sound broke the quiet rhythm of the room. He looked up, startled, as Audrey frowned and reached for her phone. Her expression shifted subtly when she saw the name on the screen, though she masked it almost immediately—too well, Jack thought.
"Sorry," she said, standing quickly. "I need to take this." She didn't wait for his response, stepping out of the room with a soft click of her heels against the floor. The glass door shut quietly behind her, leaving him back alone in the room.
Jack exhaled, leaning back in his chair, but his focus was no longer on the budget in front of him. He had seen the name on the screen: Paul Raines. His stomach twisted as he glanced at his watch. Eleven p.m. Why the hell was Paul calling at this hour? Weren't they separated? Or... weren't they? Jack found himself questioning what he thought he knew. He realized with a pang that it had been weeks, maybe over a month, since Audrey had last mentioned Paul. That night she'd told him about her miscarriages and the fundraising ball they had attended together felt like a lifetime ago. Since he didn't have the secure phone anymore, their calls also had become a lot less frequent. Short, friendly exchanges that lacked the intimacy they had once shared. And he painfully realized that he knew nothing about how her life looked like, right now.
He shook his head at the thought, trying to push it aside, but it lingered. Was Paul back in her life, back in the space he had once thought would be his, being the one Audrey talked to, at night? The idea unsettled him, though he couldn't pinpoint why. He had no claim, no right to feel this way. Hadn't he even encouraged Audrey, once, to fight for her marriage? He had told her that separation didn't mean the end, that even other people entering the picture didn't matter until the divorce papers were signed. He had been thinking back to his own painful separation from Teri, when they had both seen others before finding their way back to each other.
But now, watching Audrey's silhouette through the frosted glass of her office door as she paced up and down the hallway, phone pressed to her ear, Jack felt a creeping unease—a knot of emotion he didn't want to name. The possibility of her reconciling with Paul shouldn't have mattered, but it gnawed at him, settling heavily in his chest.
He forced his gaze back to the papers in front of him, but the numbers blurred. It didn't matter, he told himself. It wasn't his business. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to refocus, the image of Audrey outside, talking to Paul, lingered. The knot tightened. Paul. He had no right to resent the man, but the name burned all the same. Audrey's life was hers. If Paul was in it, what did that have to do with him? He wasn't her… what? He didn't even know what he was to her.
And yet, it still stung. Paul—the man she had once loved enough to marry, the man who might still hold her heart. Who was he compared to Paul? A fling? A brief escape? A friend clinging to borrowed time? Yet here he was, sitting in her Pentagon office, having dropped everything to help her. And he'd do it again, because he felt like he still owed her, no matter if Paul was still in the play or not.
The door opened quietly, and she stepped back in, her face calm but carrying the faintest trace of unease. She hesitated briefly, then returned to her seat beside him.
"Sorry about that," she said softly, her tone polite but measured. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"It's okay," Jack replied evenly, his eyes fixed on the papers in his hand. He didn't look up.
Audrey's frown was almost imperceptible, but her mind raced. His response was polite—too polite. Cool, detached. It unsettled her in a way she hadn't expected. Was he unbothered? Did he care at all? She turned back to her monitors, but her focus was fractured, her thoughts circling his indifference.
Jack, for his part, clenched his jaw tightly. He stole a glance at her when she wasn't looking, catching the soft glow of the desk lamp against her features. He wanted to ask, to say something—anything—that would break the silence about it. But he couldn't. He didn't have the right to question her about Paul, to demand an explanation. And yet, the thought of her reconciling with him, of Paul still having a place in her life, twisted like a knife. Why else would Paul call at 11 p.m. on a Wednesday? He actually didn't even want her to say it aloud.
He turned back to the budget papers, scanning line after line as the hours crawled by. Each number on the page offered a distraction, but the questions about Audrey and Paul remained, gnawing at him, unanswered and unspoken.
So he did what he did best. Focusing on work.
.
.
.