whathastobedone | For Jack Bauer -- a MM thread

For Jack Bauer -- a MM thread

She can feel it slipping through her fingers. Everything. All of it. Vladimir has called every contact he could possibly think of, and none of them know anything about the nuclear rods.

"Well, somebody that you've already talked to has to know something!"

"Renee, it's done."

No. No, it's not done. It can't be done. Jack's sitting downstairs waiting for this information; all of CTU is counting on her to find these rods, and if it's done that means the mission is over. Jack will pull her out, and she'll go back to...

What?

"We made five million."

"Why settle for five when we could have fifty?"

He laughs, and just looking at him makes her sick to her stomach, but then he's touching her and it's all she can do to keep her cool -- keep her cover. She smiles at him, hands on his waist like the thought of his body against hers doesn't repulse her, and tries to think.

"Five million is plenty. Plus, we have each other. That's not so bad, is it?"

"No, it's not bad," she smiles. "But it could be better!"

And then she moves, trying not to run but keeping her steps quick as she goes for his phone.

"Call them again. Do it for me."

Please.

Please.

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"Yeah, I can imagine."

She also knows how often the first and last can bleed into the middle rule.

"Nice room," she mutters, rubbing her hands together like a nervous habit. She glances his way and nods, heading for the bathroom door. "Thanks. I'll try not to be long."

When she's inside, and the door is closed behind her, she has to remind herself that it doesn't need to be locked and bolted shut as well.

Jack sinks onto the loveseat, tilting his head back and closing his eyes for a minute.

He's already decided he's not going to call out if she's okay, unless he hears something suspicious. He's not going to check up on her, even if she seems to take a long time. He needs to give her time and space, though he wants her to know that he's there for her.

He's just going to be listening very hard to every sound that comes from the direction of the bathroom. Just in case she needs him.

Time and space. They're fickle things.

When she needs them most, like that day eighteen months ago when she could have used a little of both to get her mind wrapped around everything that was happening, they're the two rarest commodities in the world. But when she wants nothing to do with them, like every day spent since then -- jobless, friendless, empty -- she can't ever seem to escape.

She finds a clean washcloth on a towel rack, picks it up like a cashmere scarf and brings it to the sink. As she waits for the water to get hot, she catches her reflection in the mirror.

And stares.

She doesn't even realize that the water is practically scalding her for a few seconds. She jerks back and looks down, only she can't see her hands for the blur of tears in her eyes.

Miraculously, it seems like this is one of those moments when she needs time and space, and thanks to Jack, she can actually indulge in both.

(Just for a little while, though.)

After a few long minutes of sniffling, she pulls herself together and clears her throat, just enough so that she can call, "I'll just be another minute!"

Jack won't pretend--at least to himself--that he wasn't listening to the water running for a while without some concern, and so when she calls out he does let out a small sigh of relief.

"All right. Take your time," he says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

She gingerly cleans her face off, avoiding her eyes in the mirror. She doesn't need to look at them to know they're red-rimmed and swollen. She doesn't need to to look at them to know they're hollow.

She runs her hands under cooler water, and resists the urge to wipe her nose with the back of one. The skin is a bit pink, but it should stop burning after a few minutes.

It's another little bit to stop her nose from running (to not look like the complete mess she feels like on the inside), but eventually the handle on the door turns and she steps back out, still carrying the damp cloth in her hands.

She reaches up and brushes the loose hair out of her eyes, before looking at Jack.

"Thanks."

Of course Jack immediately spots her red and swollen eyes, but he doesn't comment. He's careful to cover his initial feeling of concern and gets to his feet.

"Ready to go?" he asks, holding out a hand to her.

"I think so."

She knows the sooner they leave, the sooner they can put this mess behind them. Get back to CTU, get Jack somewhere he can rest and heal, get everything fixed that she screwed up.

But she doesn't reach for his hand, and after a pause, she finds herself changing her answer.

"I don't know."

She looks at him then, almost as if she expects him to answer for her.

He steps closer to her, resting a hand on her arm, his face creased in concern. "What aren't you sure about?"

"If I'm ... If I'm ready to go back out into that room with ... him."

She closes her eyes and covers her face with one hand, looking some strange hybrid of embarrassed and frustrated.

"I'm sorry, I know that probably doesn't make any sense, I just..."

"No, no, it does. Would it help not to look, or would just being in the same room be too much?" he asks, stroking his thumb over her bicep.

Unfortunately, there's only one way out of the bar, and that'll involve walking around Laitanan's corpse.

"I, um. I'm just thinking about ... everything I've done, everything that ... that happened."

She pulls her hand down her face, and it comes to rest at the back of her neck, fingers pressed against her spine.

"And I don't know. If I'm ready to go back to that."

"Hey, it's okay," Jack says, "You don't have to be ready yet. Like I said, time doesn't pass out there while we're in here, so we're not running out of time or anything if we stay in here for a while. You can take as long as you like."

For his part, he's kind of anxious to get this over with, but he's not going to push her. She's dealing with a lot more than he is at the moment.

She nods unsteadily as he speaks, keeping her eyes focused on the cloth she still has gripped in one hand, her thumb red against the stained-pink fabric.

"But the mission. And you, Jack," she says, shaking her head. "I know I can't ... I can't hide. Not forever. And especially not here."

She raises her eyes to meet his.

"And you need to be with your family," she whispers.

"No, you can't, not forever," he says, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. "But I'm not talking about forever, okay? And I want to be with my family, but right now, I think this is where I need to be."

He's starting to realize that it's not just because she's falling apart and needs the support, either. He wants to be there, wants to be wherever she is.

She can't help but tip her face into his touch, letting out a breath of relief. Her skin is still damp from washing away tears and blood, but gentleness is such a relief to her right now she can't even think about stepping away.

She uncurls her hand from the back of her neck, crossing her arm over her chest to carefully touch his knuckles, letting her palm rest against his wrist.

"You're right, you know. I'm not the same person I was the last time you saw me. But I want to be."

She squeezes his palm.

You make me want to be.

"I want to be. I'm just ... so tired."

"I know," he says softly, brushing her hair back again, "I know."

He wants to hold her, but he's not sure how comfortable she'll be with that. Earlier, she'd probably been too busy sobbing to notice, needing the hug more than anything. That's not the case right now.

"Anytime you want to lean on me, I'm good for it, you know that, right?" he asks, moving his hand to her shoulder, his other hand still resting on her arm.

She glances down and nods, a wry smirk curling one corner of her mouth.

"Yeah. Even when you've got a hole in your side?"

"Yeah," he says, returning the smile. "It's not the first. Besides, I figure you could probably use a hug, but I don't want to do anything yo're not comfortable with."

"I'm not the one who just had impromptu surgery."

But she knows what he's getting at (she just can't bring herself to acknowledge it). So, she takes the first step forward, hands carefully trailing along his arms until they come, featherlight, to his ribcage.

"I don't want to hurt you," she whispers.

"I've still got a couple hours before the local anaesthetic wears off. Maybe you should take advantage of not being able to hurt me while you still can," he says, teasing.

He slides his hand around her back, gently pulling her toward him for a hug with a whispered, "c'mere." He's careful to keep every movement a suggestion, not an order, though, giving her enough room to back away if she wants.

She breathes a quiet, watery laugh when he teases her.

"Think I've done enough for one day."

She eases into his embrace, in control of both the speed and the closeness, for which she's completely grateful for; but it's the gentle pressure of the hand at her back that she concentrates on. It reminds her both that he's really here, and that he cares.

She rests her forehead on his shoulder, hands in fists that linger just shy of touching him, but arms nonetheless snug around his middle.

"Thank you," she murmurs against his jacket.

"It's what I'm here for," he says, drinking in the feel of her in his arms.

He hadn't realized how much he missed holding someone and being held until the day he met her, when he'd hugged Kim and when Renee had gathered him in her arms. As he'd tried to fight the twitches and trembles caused by the prions' destruction, she'd wrapped her arms around him, a kind of support he hadn't felt in years and had thought he was long past needing.

Now he'd like to return the favor. Not that it's much of a chore on his part.

"It's gonna be okay, Renee," he whispers into her hair. "I know you're tired, but it's gonna be okay."

Edited 2010-02-21 02:41 (UTC)

She indulges in the embrace -- something she hadn't been able to do in CTU, when she was just so surprised to see him there, or back in Laitanan's office. Now, she's just holding him, and it doesn't matter why, or what's going on, or where they are. All that matters is she feels safe for the first time all night, and that's not something she ever wants to let go of.

"I'm so sorry, Jack," she says, even as she soaks in his warmth, breathing in his leather and sweat cologne. "I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have pushed you away."

"It's all right," he says, gently rubbing her back. "I can't fault you for doing something I did for years."

He'd spent so much time pushing other people away and holding them at a distance, he'd almost forgotten how to let anyone in, how to get close to anyone. It had taken Renee to start breaking down the walls he'd put up.

"But with so much at stake..."

She tips her face toward the crook of his neck, and if not for the way her hands are curled so tight he might have been able to notice the tremble in her fingertips.

"All the lives I might have ruined tonight..."

Including her own.

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