Pre-S4: Pentagon, continued
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Jack shrugged his jacket back into place, his movements sharp and automatic, as if rearmoring himself for battle. He tightened his tie with a quick tug, glancing down at his now polished appearance. The loosened sleeves, the casual air of moments before—gone. They had been abruptly forced back into roles, the invisible shield of solitude that had enveloped them shattered by the unassuming presence of someone walking by Audrey's office.
And all of a sudden, they had realized that it was 07:10 in the morning and the night was already over.
The shift had been immediate. Audrey, graceful and deliberate, had gathered their empty coffee cups and tidied the space with a precision that betrayed how attuned she was to maintaining appearances. Her polished demeanor was firmly back in place, every move calculated. Jack watched her for a moment, caught somewhere between admiration and unease. It was a reminder of the world she lived in—a place of constant scrutiny, where any deviation from the expected would lead to questions which they both didn't want.
She met his eyes briefly, her voice quiet but firm. "We should move over to the conference room."
Of course. Jack understood immediately. No external advisor would sit at her personal desk, buried in confidential papers and surrounded by the debris of an all-nighter. The conference room offered a veneer of professionalism, the glass walls granting the prying eyes just enough information to stall their curious minds. And for a fleeting moment, he felt the familiar twinge of being undercover again, of slipping into a role he had to play.
He followed her through the quiet corridors. The Pentagon was waking up for the day, and they passed a few early risers along the way. Jack caught sight of two men and a woman with sharp black hair who glanced up as they walked past. Nobody spoke, but Jack noted the look the woman gave them—especially him—a fleeting but sharp flicker of interest.
"That was Janice," Audrey murmured as they entered the glass-walled conference room and shut the door behind them. Her voice was low, almost absent-minded, but Jack caught the edge in it.
Janice. The name triggered a memory from one of their late-night calls. Audrey had mentioned her more than just once—a colleague whose ambition simmered just below the surface, ready to boil over at the slightest chance. Janice had made no secret of her discontent about Audrey's position and had been known to undermine her whenever the opportunity arose. Jack filed away the observation. If Janice had noticed him – or worse: recognized him - there might be fallout later.
The conference room felt exposed compared to Audrey's office, its walls made of glass that offered little privacy. Jack set his jaw, schooling his expression into something neutral. He would play his part. Appearances were everything here, and if anyone questioned his presence, he'd follow Audrey's instructions: deflect and refer them to the Secretary of Defense. The plan wasn't perfect—far from it—but it would have to do.
At least the room had a coffee machine. Jack allowed himself a faint smile as he spotted it in the corner. He grabbed a cup, savoring the bitter warmth as he sat down. Audrey was already arranging her papers again.
They fell back into the rhythm of work quickly, diving into the numbers of the budget. Despite the shift in their environment, the sense of ease returned as they worked together. Jack pointed out discrepancies, Audrey flagged them for follow-up, and together they unraveled the web of financial misdirection.
The hours stretched on, the conference room gradually filling with the faint hum of activity from the surrounding offices. The glass walls offered a view to the hallway, and Jack occasionally caught glimpses of people passing by. A few lingered for a moment, their gazes flicking toward the room, but nobody entered.
Jack stole a glance at Audrey. She was focused, her eyes scanning the screen with an intensity that made him pause. Even now, after hours of relentless work, she radiated composure. But he knew better. He had seen the cracks, the moments when her polished exterior faltered, revealing the strain beneath.
"Janice is going to ask about this," Jack said quietly, his voice breaking the silence.
Audrey didn't look up from her notes, but he saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips. "Let her. I'm prepared."
Her confidence was reassuring, but Jack couldn't shake the feeling that the curiosity of some people around here could complicate things. He turned his attention back to the spreadsheets in front of him, forcing himself to focus.
As the morning wore on, the world outside the conference room came to life. The muffled sounds of conversations and footsteps grew louder, a reminder that they were no longer alone in their bubble. Jack's mind briefly drifted back to the quiet intimacy of Audrey's office, where the walls had felt closer, and the solitude had shaken off all the expectations and looks that seemed to count here.
They had been working for another few hours when the door to the conference room suddenly flew open, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet hum of the room.
No knock.
Jack immediately raised his eyes, his instincts sharpening in an instant. When he saw the old man who stood in the doorway, he rose to his feet without hesitation, buttoning his jacket in one smooth motion. The man before him didn't need an introduction. The Secretary of Defense, James Heller. Jack had seen his face many times—on the news, in newspapers—but he hadn't expected to meet him in person today.
Heller was an imposing figure, his presence filling the room. His posture was straight, his suit impeccable, and his expression calm yet commanding. The kind of man who radiated authority effortlessly. But as Jack watched him turn his attention to Audrey, he noticed something else—a warmth in Heller's gaze, something he couldn't quite define. It wasn't intimidating, nor was it strictly professional. It lingered somewhere in between, an undertone Jack couldn't pin down.
"Audrey, do you have a minute?" Heller's voice was firm but not curt, his tone giving Jack a quick nod as a silent acknowledgment of his presence.
"Of course," Audrey replied, standing immediately and walking toward him.
Jack stayed where he was, unsure of what to do next. He stood across the room, on the far side of the large conference table, his posture straight but not stiff. Should he sit back down? Would that be impolite? Should he leave the room altogether? The Secretary clearly wanted to speak to Audrey privately, perhaps about something confidential. But where would that leave him? He hated this feeling of uncertainty, the murkiness of unwritten rules in this bureaucratic world. For a fleeting moment, he missed the rigid protocols of the military, where every action was dictated and understood. At least there, he'd known exactly where to stand.
As he remained rooted in place, Jack couldn't help but overhear their conversation. Heller asked Audrey what she was working on. Her response was quick and precise, explaining that they were reviewing the budget. During the exchange, Heller's gaze flickered toward Jack, appraising him briefly. Jack felt a faint tension in that glance. Had someone in the office mentioned the outsider in the conference room? Was Heller here to investigate? The thought unsettled him, though he tried not to show it.
After a moment, Heller nodded and stepped further into the room, his attention shifting fully to Jack. Audrey followed closely behind him.
Heller extended his hand toward Jack as he approached, his movement deliberate and confident. The handshake was strong, honest—a clear sign of sincerity. Jack mirrored the gesture, meeting his grip firmly, though his mind raced to make sense of the situation. He wanted to glance at Audrey for guidance, to gauge what was expected of him, but breaking eye contact with Heller felt like it would be rude.
"Jack Bauer," he introduced himself, his tone measured and calm.
"Audrey told me about bringing you into this," Heller said, cutting the pleasantries short. "Thank you for coming here on such short notice, Mr. Bauer."
"Of course, Sir," Jack replied, his voice instinctively respectful, as if slipping into an old habit.
"Flew in all the way from LA?" Heller's question seemed casual, conversational, but Jack couldn't help but wonder how much the Secretary already knew about him. What had Audrey told him?
"Yes, Sir," Jack answered, the reply oddly reminiscent of his military days.
"Dulles or Reagan?" Heller asked, his tone light, almost offhand.
Jack froze for half a second, caught off guard. It was the kind of small-talk question that most people wouldn't think twice about. Which airport had he flown into—Washington Dulles or Reagan National? But the truth was that Jack hadn't used either. He'd flown in on his Mooney and landed at College Park Airport, a small airfield in northern D.C. The real answer, however, was one he couldn't give. Not here. Not to him.
"Reagan," Jack lied smoothly, hoping Audrey would understand his need to fabricate this detail and support the story if it ever came up again. He didn't know how much Heller knew about his past—whether the Secretary was aware of the messy, chaotic details of the Cordilla virus crisis, of his addiction, of the parts of his life he wanted to keep buried. Flying didn't fit the image of that Jack Bauer. At least not legally. It wouldn't take much for someone – for someone like Heller, who'd been a pilot himself – to connect the dots, to realize he must have lied to the FAA to get his medical certificate. The truth would unravel too much.
Audrey immediately sensed the lie. Without missing a beat, she stepped in to redirect the conversation, steering Heller away from any further questions that might probe into Jack's life.
"We've already flagged substantial amounts," she interjected, walking back to the table and sitting down at her laptop. She pulled up a list of suspicious budget items on the screen. "Here."
Heller leaned over her shoulder to examine the list, his posture relaxed but attentive. Jack watched them carefully. There was something in the way Heller's hand rested on the back of Audrey's chair, in the easy proximity between them, that made Jack pause. It didn't feel strictly professional. They seemed close—too close, perhaps, for what he would have expected. It wasn't inappropriate, not exactly, but it stirred an unease in him that he couldn't fully explain. He swore to himself that he'd never confront Audrey about it, but the thought nagged at the back of his mind. Was Paul the only other man in Audrey's life? What about her and Heller?
Audrey and Heller talked about the flagged sums, the largest discrepancies standing out like red flags. She explained that they'd already cut $340 million and flagged another $650 million for further review. Heller listened intently, nodding as she spoke, but Jack's thoughts were far from the conversation.
"Impressive," Heller finally said, straightening up. "Good work." His words carried genuine approval as he turned back to Jack. With a firm pat on Jack's shoulder, he added, "Thank you for helping with this."
"Of course," Jack murmured, his response automatic and distant. He watched Heller leave the room, his footsteps fading into the corridor beyond.
Audrey's voice pulled Jack back to the present. "Jack?"
"Yes?"
"I asked you what's up," Audrey said, her tone soft but searching.
"Nothing," Jack replied, though his voice lacked conviction. He shifted slightly, glancing at her. "Thanks for covering for me. About flying."
"No worries," she said with a faint smile, but her eyes lingered on him, concern etched in her features.
Jack sat down again, picking up the papers in front of him. But Audrey could tell something was off. He was changed, distracted in a way that unsettled her.
"Jack?" she asked again, gently.
"Huh?" He looked up, his gaze distant.
"Everything alright?" she pressed. "Are you shocked because of suddenly meeting the Secretary?"
Jack shook his head slowly. He'd dealt with people like the Secretary before—like David Palmer. But Audrey didn't know that. And right now, he couldn't put his tangled thoughts into words.
Audrey studied him carefully, her worry growing. She saw how out of place he felt here, and it hurt her to realize how much she'd asked of him. She had pulled him into her world, a world where he was judged not for who he was now but for who he had been, where every glance possibly felt like a reminder of his past. And now, she feared she'd only made things harder for him.
Audrey's eyes stayed on him as he grabbed a pile of papers and attempted to dive back into the work. But it was clear that he wasn't fully present. His movements were mechanical, his focus off sometimes. He stared at the spreadsheets and line items in front of him, but Audrey could see that his mind was somewhere else entirely.
Her chest tightened as she watched him struggle silently. Jack Bauer, the man who had faced life-and-death stakes more times than anyone should, looked out of place here, in her world. The bustling Pentagon hallways, the unspoken judgments, the lingering gazes—they all felt alien to him. And yet, he had come here for her. He'd agreed to step into this world, knowing full well that every glance in his direction would carry the weight of his past.
Audrey knew how much he hated being reduced to those fragments of his history—the addiction, the crises, the moments of failure that in the eyes of some people seemed to weigh more than the things he'd accomplished. She saw it now in the way his shoulders tensed, the way his hand hovered over the papers without really moving.
And she realized, with a pang of guilt, that she had asked far too much of him. This wasn't just about spending a night with her poring over numbers. She had dragged him into a world where the shadows of his past loomed larger than the man himself. She thought back to earlier, when they'd passed Janice's office. The quick glance from Janice had been harmless on the surface, but Audrey couldn't shake the fear of what might follow.
She remembered, too clearly, the offhand comment Janice had made a few months ago during a conversation that had drifted to the Cordilla virus crisis. "The heroin-addict virus guy," Janice had called the nameless agent of CTU LA involved in all that, her tone laced with derision, followed by a short laughter. Audrey's stomach twisted at the thought of Janice realizing that same man was now sitting in the conference room with her. The whispers would spread like wildfire.
Audrey broke the silence, her voice soft but resolute. "Jack."
He looked up, his focus snapping back to her. "Yeah?"
"Thank you for coming here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I know it wasn't easy for you."
Jack met her gaze, but he said nothing. And in that silence, Audrey thought she understood everything he couldn't bring himself to say. She saw the weight he carried, the battle he fought just to be here.
"You're doing a remarkable job here, Audrey," he finally said, his tone steady and sincere as he nodded toward the numbers on her screen.
The words hit her with unexpected force. Audrey blushed, looking away briefly to regain her composure. She had heard praise before, from many people—her colleagues, her father. But this felt different. Hearing them from someone like Jack was different, way different.
She sat in her chair, staring at the frosted glass walls of the conference room. The words lingered in her mind. For the first time, she believed them. These weren't the hollow reassurances of a father who would always see her as his daughter, no matter what. They weren't the patronizing compliments of colleagues who resented her position. This was Jack, speaking with the kind of honesty that cut through the noise.
Audrey turned back to him, her heart heavy. He was so close, yet he felt further away than ever. Their connection had cooled since Seattle, and she felt the distance acutely now. He was here, physically, but there was a barrier between them that she couldn't name. And that barrier made her decision even harder.
She had kept something from Jack—something that defined her more than anything else. Her relationship with the Secretary of Defense.
She could picture him leaving the conference room in an hour or two, casually meeting Janice or someone else in the hallway. They would make a comment, an offhand remark that would reveal the truth: that James Heller wasn't just her boss. He was her father. Jack would piece it together immediately, and she feared how he would react. She could imagine the betrayal in his eyes, the realization that she had hidden something so fundamental from him.
No. He had to hear it from her.
"I need to tell you something," she began, her voice hesitant. "About Heller."
Jack's body tensed visibly. His eyes locked on hers, bracing for whatever she was about to say. There was something in her tone that set him on edge. It felt like bad news was coming, and he wasn't sure he was ready for it.
When she finally spoke, the truth hit him like a freight train. That Heller was her father. Damn it. He had slept with the daughter of the Secretary of Defense.
Jack's mind reeled. It explained so much—the dynamic between them, the subtle cues he'd picked up on but hadn't been able to place. Alicia Heller. That was the name Audrey had mentioned for her mother, and now the pieces fell into place. He had never connected it to James Heller, assuming it was just her mother's maiden name. But now it all made sense. The personal nature of the threat against Heller. The way it extended to Audrey.
"Jack?" Audrey's voice was cautious, pulling him out of his spiral.
He shook himself free from his astonishment. "It all makes sense now," he said slowly.
"What?" she asked, her brow furrowing.
"The threat the CIA discovered," Jack explained, his voice firm. "They don't want to kill him. They want him to talk, probably. And you'd be the leverage."
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind, each one more troubling than the last. He couldn't shake the image of Audrey being used as a pawn, a way to force Heller's hand.
Audrey nodded slowly, her expression somber. "That's what Colonel Miller told me weeks ago," she admitted.
"Are you mad at me now? For not telling you earlier?" she asked hesitantly.
Jack shook his head slightly.
"You sure?" she pressed, not fully convinced.
"Yes," he replied, though his voice carried the weight of his conflicted emotions.
Audrey's eyes searched his, desperate to make him understand. "Jack... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be dishonest to you," she began. "It just felt so good to talk to somebody who'd, for once, not just see me as—"
Jack interrupted her by placing his hand gently on her shoulder. "It's okay, Audrey," he said softly.
His touch lingered for only a moment before he withdrew it. They were still in the glass-walled conference room, and the prying eyes of the office loomed like a silent audience.
Jack returned to the papers in front of him, attempting to refocus. But the professional distance between them now felt heavier than ever.
They worked late into the afternoon, the hours dragging as the weight of fatigue pressed down on them both. By now, they had reviewed most of the budget, dissected countless line items, and flagged everything questionable.
Jack sat back in his chair, rolling his neck to ease the tension. Audrey was rubbing her temples, her face a mixture of focus and weariness.
"We've done enough for today," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "I'll handle the rest tomorrow."
Jack gave a small nod. He didn't argue—there was no point. She was right.
As they began packing up their papers and straightening the table, Jack caught glimpses of something Audrey carefully kept hidden in front of her colleagues, bot not in front of him: the details of her Secret Service routine. He noticed the discreet panic button she carried. He also saw the small device she carried—a locator, always on her person.
Audrey made a quick call. She was informed that another agent would be driving her home today. "Understood. Third-floor elevator," she replied, hanging up without ceremony.
Jack said nothing. The constant surveillance, the precautions—it was another reminder of the world she lived in. And now, thanks to the threats against her and her father, it was a world she couldn't escape. And for a moment he thought back to Seattle, the afternoon when he'd taken her away from her Security detail. A reckless decision. If he'd known it back then, that her father was the Secretary of Defense, he would have never done that. Never.
When they left the offices of the Secretary of Defense together, it didn't draw any undue attention. Audrey had a perfectly legitimate reason to escort a visitor out of the protected area. It was a mundane task, nothing to warrant a second glance.
As they reached the elevators, Jack spotted the agent waiting for Audrey. He was a tall man in a black suit, his posture rigid, his expression impassive. He exuded the quiet authority of someone accustomed to blending into the background while keeping a watchful eye on everything.
Audrey turned to Jack then, and for a brief moment, her composed exterior faltered. He saw it in her eyes—the ache, the longing to give him a hug, to break through the professional barrier that kept them apart. But she couldn't. There were too many eyes on her. Even the smallest gesture of affection felt impossible under the scrutiny of her world.
Jack understood. To make the decision easier for her, he extended his hand. On a personal level, it felt awkward, almost wrong, but it was the only gesture that fit the setting.
Her handshake was nothing like her father's. It was soft, careful, lingering. For a split second, Jack thought he felt her thumb brush gently against the back of his hand.
Their goodbye was everything it wasn't supposed to be: professional, quick, composed. And yet, beneath the surface, it carried the weight of everything unsaid.
As Audrey turned to the waiting agent, Jack watched her walk away. To his surprise, the man didn't lead her to the elevators as he'd expected. Instead, he guided her toward another hallway. Jack stayed where he was, watching them from the elevator bank.
Her footsteps echoed softly down the corridor. About ten yards away, the agent used his keycard to unlock a door, holding it open for her. She hesitated for the briefest moment, unable to resist the pull to look back.
Her eyes found Jack still standing by the elevators, his gaze fixed on her. She couldn't tell why he was still there. Was he simply waiting for the elevator? Had he not even pushed the button yet? Or was there some other reason he lingered, watching her with that quiet, steady presence?
He gave her a soft smile—gentle, reassuring, and tinged with something she couldn't quite name. Audrey held his gaze for a heartbeat longer before stepping through the door, her heart heavier than she wanted to admit.
And when the door closed behind her, she found herself hoping that he had stayed not because of the elevator but because of her.
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