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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She takes a deep breath, and sniffles slightly.

"I'm as ready as I'm going to be."

What's waiting for her out there is never going to be something she's okay with.

"Okay. Just give me a second," he says, quickly doing up the buttons on his shirt and arranging his jacket so the bloodstain isn't immediately visible.

"All right, I'm ready," he says, getting to his feet and placing a hand on her arm. "Just remember, I'll be right there with you."

He's not sure she's really all that put together, but he's not sure delaying is going to help either. At least this way they can get it over with and he can take her home. Getting away from CTU is probably the most likely to help of anything.

Her hand automatically reaches to steady him when he gets up, fingers grazing that soft spot behind his elbow. Once she can see that he's all right, she brings her arm back in and crosses it over her middle, rubbing absently at the other.

She nods jerkily, taking tentative steps toward the door.

And then she hesitates, pausing long enough for him to reach her side so they can walk side-by-side.

Together.

"Okay, Jack."

"Okay."

He pulls the door of the infirmary open for her, and as he looks at her he realizes there's something they should probably fix before they go too far.

"Renee, wait. You've got blood on your face; you should get that cleaned up before CTU gets to Laitanan's place. I've got a room upstairs if you want something to wash that off."

He wouldn't really blame her if she needed a shower at the moment too, but he's not sure she'd go for it at the moment.

She touches her face -- you've got blood on your face -- stricken by the thought, like it's some sort of disfiguring disease.

"Sorry," she says, before really thinking about it.

She realizes it's not just a little blood, rubbing her fingers together again to watch it flake from her skin. It's nothing she can simply wipe off without soap and water (or a mirror), and that's why she nods.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Wouldn't want to be a mess when they arrive."

"Nothing for you to be sorry about. Just let me get the key for my room."

Jack walks over to the bar and asks her for a new key, then turns toward the staircase. "Come on, the stairs to the rooms are over this way."

She nods when he excuses himself, stays in place, and watches her feet.

(Bloodstains everywhere.)

When she glances in the direction he went, she blinks in surprise to see him talking to ... no one. And then stares when a key is produced out of thin air.

She turns with him when he heads for the stairs, but her head doesn't. She's staring in bafflement at the Bar.

"Did you...?"

He glances back at the bar and smiles. "Yeah. The bar is sentient, and provides things like food, drinks, and room keys. Welcome to Milliways. Did you want to bring up something to eat, by the way?"

"Oh," she says with a sarcastic little head toss and eyebrow arch, "of course she is--she--she?"

She touches the bridge of her nose and shakes her head.

"Never mind. I-I...I'm fine."

It could be she's too distracted by thoughts of the outside world to really consider when the last time she ate was. Not that Jack would understand what that's like.

For a moment, that little head toss and note of sarcasm makes her almost sound like the Renee Jack remembered.

He shakes off the memory and turns back toward the stairs. "Yeah, 'she'. It's another of those don't-ask-me-how kind of things. All you need to know is that you can get things from her, and she tends to mother people. Oh, and you don't want to piss her off."

"Sounds like my Great Aunt," she remarks absently, following closely behind as they scale the stairs.

"I take it she still mothered her grown-up nieces and nephews?" Jack says, trying to keep her talking.

It's strange how sometimes you don't even notice how weak you are in the legs until you have to do something different, like walk up an incline. Renee uses the railing, and concentrates on one step at a time.

"She always had an opinion on the way things should be done. But she was from that stock, you know? Grew up in the 40s, tough. Disciplined. She wasn't my favorite aunt, but she always came through when you needed her."

Jack moderates his pace going up the stairs so Renee keeps up. Not that climbing stairs is very easy at the moment, but with the painkillers dulling any pain that would remind him not to push himself, he has to stop himself from hurrying.

"I just had one that used to save everything she thought would be useful; she was probably a couple steps down from a hoarder. She grew up in the Depression, so..."

Not that they'd seen much of her; she'd died when he was fairly young, and even at that age he'd been able to sense his father's disdain for his aunt.

"So it's what she had to do to survive."

She glances at Jack; like earlier, when he'd been telling her about his family and California, she's surprised by his candidness when he'd been so closed off before.

"Sounds like a Bauer."

Jack's expression darkens momentarily, as he's reminded of two other Bauers who "did what they had to do". Or at least what they felt they had to do. He might be working on forgiving himself for the things he's done, but he's not sure he'll ever be able to forgive his father and brother for everything they'd done.

"Yeah, it does," he says, reaching the top of the stairs. "Now that I think of it I don't think I got the chance to tell you the bar rules, either. Basically it's just no violence, no outside business, and no sex in the bar. Pretty easy to remember; most of the time at least."

The shift in his demeanor isn't hard to miss. Still, she almost does, given her mental state. By the time the thought occurs to her that she's said something wrong, he's already moved on to the bar rules.

She blinks, the furrow in her brow so deep she can feel it, and refocuses on the path ahead.

"Kind of disconcerting, wondering what made it necessary to make those official rules," she comments offhandedly. "Think I can remember, though."

"The first and the last one are pretty basic; it's the middle one that's tricky," he says as he pulls out his room key and opens the door to his room. It's about the size of a small suite at a nice hotel. In front of them is a sitting room with loveseat and armchair in front of a TV, a desk and bookshelf behind the sitting area. Across from them, double glass doors lead into a bedroom, the door next to them heading to the bathroom.

"The bathroom's right over there; there should be towels and stuff inside. Take as much time as you want," he says, closing the door behind them.

"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.

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