The Butterfly Effect

They knew this day would come.

When they agreed to fake Jack’s death, the four of them knew that there was always a chance somebody would figure it out. 

So they each had a task, a responsibility, to ensure their lives wouldn’t be impacted.

Chloe O’Brian, as one would expect, managed the technological side. She kept working at CTU, always keeping an eye on the files she so carefully fabricated. If anybody breached the encryption, and realised that reports of the death of Jack Bauer were faked, she would be the first to know. From there, it would be her job to tell the others. 

David Palmer, since he still held significant political influence, despite no longer residing in the Oval Office, was in the riskiest position. He had to keep his distance, because if anybody found out a former president was part of a scandal like this, it would not only reflect poorly on him, but also the government. So he took care of the emotional side and wrote a sincere letter to Jack Bauer’s only child, Kimberly. A visit would have been more meaningful, but would have only attracted unwanted attention. He wished there was more he could do.

Michelle Dessler and Tony Almeida were no longer working at CTU, so their jobs weren’t exactly at stake, but their livelihoods were. They could easily be arrested or sought after by the Chinese government, should someone find out they were involved. So they planned an escape route. Michelle used her computer skills to forge a lifetime of tax records and other documents. Tony used some of his old field ops contacts to arrange a private plane, passports, and cash. Should someone discover Jack Bauer was alive, they would assume the identities of Carissa Williams and Daniel Martinez, and get desk jobs in Canada. They’d tell their families it was to do with an old CTU enemy who’d resurfaced, and not to ask questions, but just know that they loved them and might not ever see them again.

And as for Jack Bauer? If somebody discovered he was alive, there was only one thing he could do. 

Keep running and don’t look back.

The following takes place between 11:00am and 12:00pm PST, 11 months, 25 days after the apparent ‘death’ of Jack Bauer.

Chloe checked the file periodically. Not too often as to arouse suspicion, but often enough to ensure she would catch any sign of a breach. She opened the directory of deceased people in Los Angeles, still feeling a little sick as she scrolled through the endless sea of Allens, Andersons, and Armstrongs, before finally finding the Bauers. Her finger lightly rolled the mouse as the cursor highlighted Jack’s name. It felt strange looking at the file, even though she’d heard Jack’s voice a handful of times over the past year, she still had to convince herself that he was alive. But the autopsy wasn’t what Chloe was interested in. She clicked on the list entitled ‘Access History’. If all was still well, the familiar jumble of her IP address should be the only recent entry. Chloe felt herself stop breathing when she noticed a new number, who’d accessed Jack’s file only two hours prior. 

No. No. Nonononono…

Scrolling faster now, she compared the number at the top of the list to those at the bottom. She checked it against Bill’s, against some of the other government agents she’d already identified who’d looked into Jack’s file initially after his ‘death’. No match. Chloe checked it again, praying that the array of digits would line up, that some government agent just so happened to look into Jack Bauer today. Again, no match. 

Maybe it’s just a new US agent? Maybe they’re looking into an old investigation of Jack’s? As long as they can’t see who’s modified the file, it should be fine.

Frantically, she attempted to trace the IP. 

Please be US. Please be US. Please be US…

Whoever this mystery person was, they’d done a good job at preventing a complete reveal of their location. She could only narrow down a broad area. But the specifics didn’t matter. What appeared on the screen spoke for itself.

IP Location: Beijing, China

Access Permissions: Full

They know. They know. Oh, fuck, they know…

“Chloe? What’s wrong?” Edgar’s voice startled her, as Chloe regained her composure and flicked the screen across to the work she was supposed to be doing.

“Nothing! Nothing.”

He didn’t appear very convinced. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good.”

Chloe shook her head, stashing her cellphone in her back pocket, as she left for the bathroom. “Just don’t worry about it!”

Shutting the stall door, Chloe stifled a scream, as she leant against the cool tiling. Her breathing was increasing, she was still trying to piece together how somebody managed to breach her hard drive. But the logistics didn’t matter. Right now, she had to break the news. Mentioning it directly over the phone would only make things worse, she recalled the duress code they’d established. Trembling, she flicked through her contacts.

“Hey…do you want to go get dinner at the pier tomorrow? We’ll go to that place with the really good scallops.” Chloe’s hand was shaking as she spoke into her cellphone. 

They knew she was allergic to scallops. That was how they’d come up with the code.

—

“It’s all looking good Ms. Dessler, the baby’s doing well.” 

They both sighed with relief. It was hard to know exactly what a ‘good’ pregnancy was supposed to feel like when Michelle had spent a decent portion of the last six weeks hovering over a toilet. The ultrasound still looked like a watery mess at this point, but when the doctor pointed out that tiny peanut, their tiny peanut, the couple couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s a relief to hear.”

As if on cue, because God-forbid any significant moment in their life goes uninterrupted, Tony’s phone began to vibrate in his pocket. Taking a glance, the caller ID screen displayed ‘Chloe O’Brian’. It could be important. A call from their friend wasn’t exactly strange, but it was in the middle of a work day, and regardless, they just couldn’t take that risk. 

“I just have to take this quickly, I’ll be back.”

The doctor nodded. “I need to go get the rest of your wife’s test results anyway.” He left the room.

Michelle swung her legs over the side of the bed, zipping up her pants, as Tony held the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

Michelle saw Tony become ghastly pale, his eyes widen. That can’t be good. “Y-Yeah, Chloe, sounds great. I’ll see you then.” He hung up the phone. 

“Who was it?”

“Chloe. She gave the code. We have to leave, now.” 

She rested her head in her hands. He was frantic.

“J-just wait for the doctor to come back with the results. We don’t know how long we’ll be there for…Tony?”

Turning her head, she noticed he’d already made himself comfortable at the doctor’s PC, obtaining every last piece of Michelle’s medical history, and sending it to his home network. Michelle rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t wait a few minutes?”

He shook his head. “Done. Everything should be there by the time we get home. Ready?”

Avoiding small talk at the receptionist’s desk, and insisting that they’d book Michelle’s next appointment later, Tony took no hesitation in driving home as fast as he could. Well, until Michelle rested her hand on his and reminded him that their fake IDs were no good to them dead. Rolling into their driveway in record time, he slammed the car door shut.

“I’ll call Booth, you start getting the stuff out of the safe. Then we’ll…we’ll call our families.” Despite having everything organised, Tony still looked terrified. It was one thing to have a plan to escape the country and lead new lives, it was another thing to actually do it. Tony had been on undercover missions, but never for more than a few months, and even then, that was in his early days at CTU. Back when he was young and careless, since the only person he'd had to worry about was himself.

Michelle noticed his expression. “Honey, we’ll be fine. Chloe’s probably just found out she was compromised, which means she’s given us plenty of warning to get out of here.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “I know…I know. It’s just the timing. I always prayed that if this were to happen, it’d happen before we started a family.”

She placed a hand to her stomach, sighing. “We knew what we were getting ourselves into, Tony. Nothing to do about it now, except get our act together and get the hell out of here.”

— 

Hanging up the phone, Chloe knew she had to tell Jack next. Even though they’d given him a burner phone, she worried whether someone was already monitoring her communications, eagerly waiting for her to call him. Whatever Michelle had done to prevent it from being tracked wouldn’t hold up against this mystery person. After all, if Chloe O’Brian couldn’t source this guy, no one could. She remembered that he’d recently moved to Chicago, with the help of one of her undercover operatives. Walking back to her desk, she immediately searched for available flights from LAX. She saw one listed for seven in the evening, the next day.

Perfect. Now to make this look like a work trip.

Pulling up an old Chicago investigation, Chloe began to draft an email from her contact, requesting an in-person transfer of some sensitive case files. 

Around ten minutes later, the familiar tri-tone of her desk phone rang out.

“CTU, O’Brian.”

“It’s Bill. I’ve just gotten a message from Victoria Bennett, she needs you to come to Chicago, regarding something from the Ramirez bombings. It sounded urgent, get yourself on the next flight, I’ll have Edgar cover for you over the next few days.”

She smirked. Mr. Buchanan, you should really verify the sources of your emails. “Yep, I’ll get on it.” Hanging up the phone, she clicked ‘Confirm’ on the airline browser page.

I’m coming, Jack.

— 

Doing one last sweep, they checked that every last identifying piece of them had been destroyed or packed away. Invoices, letters, photographs, everything. They even took the license plates off their cars in the driveway. There had to be no evidence that Michelle Dessler and Tony Almeida lived in that house. They were cautious about what they took, but still the couple allowed themselves one small cash-box of keepsakes. Jewellery, other old anniversary presents, Polaroids, little treasures of their relationship. But what Tony hadn’t seen her place flat on the bottom of the box was her old CTU keycard. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to still have it. Michelle should have given it to Bill the day she left CTU for good. But something had told her that someday it could be useful. If for some reason she ever needed to go back, if she needed supplies of any kind, she could simply reprogram the card for whatever new security protocols were being used, and alas, she’d be in, still with the highest level of clearance. Of course she wasn’t careless, she knew to remove the GPS chip and the ID strip that identified it as her card.

Tony sighed. “I swear to God we only unpacked the last box like last week.” It was true. They’d only moved in to the place a few months prior, but with Michelle’s pregnancy and the business, unpacking boxes had been somewhat of a prolonged task. Yet somehow over the last forty minutes, they’d managed to repack everything. Working against the clock seemed to increase their efficiency.

Michelle snorted. “Well in a few hours we’ll be doing it all over again.” She wrapped her arms around him. 

“I hope so…once we get to Canada, I’ll feel better. It’s just hard not knowing how bad it is, I mean is Chloe just being extra careful? What if Jack’s already been found?”

“We just need to hang in there a little while longer. Before you know it we’ll be at the new house, everything will be okay.”

A grey sedan pulled up outside their house. Squinting, Tony nodded as he identified the driver. “That’s him. Let’s go.” 

They didn’t know if they’d ever be able come back once they closed that door.

They hoped to God they could.

The following takes place between 6:00pm and 6:07pm PST, 1 year, 5 months, and 27 days after the apparent ‘death’ of Jack Bauer.

“He’s getting too close.” Henderson’s voice was stern.

“I-I know. But everything’s been destroyed, right? There should be n-no reason for Palmer to find out what we’ve planned. Besides, nobody will believe Martha, her medication makes her hysteric anyway.” Logan’s blue eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of his face. Luckily, he was alone, so his panicked expression was just a secret kept between him and his reflection in the window overseeing his retreat.

Henderson tutted. “Some things can never be fully erased. And on the off-chance somebody does believe her, we’re screwed. Which is why I’m asking you to approve the operation we had planned for this exact scenario.”

“Ah. That operation. If it means protecting what we’ve built, then y-yes, do it. Wh-whatever you have to.” The last sentence came out as a distressed jumble.

“Good. That’ll be all then. Goodbye, Charles.”

Hanging up the phone, Charles Logan whistled as he exhaled. I’ve just ordered the death of David Palmer.  He couldn’t help but feel guilty, after all, Palmer had advised him in his first few hours in office. And he wasn’t even a Republican. But he trusted Christopher Henderson’s judgement, at least, he thought he did. Truth be told, half the time he just went along blindly with whatever he suggested. Logan was too afraid to find out what would happen if he disagreed. And the man did have a way of putting things in a different light. Ensuring that every questionable or arguably criminal thing they did was all for the greater good. The Sentox. The moles planted. The killing of those who stood in the plan’s way. Everything. 

That’s right. It’s all for the greater good. All for the greater good. All for the greater good…

— 

The following takes place between 7:00am and 8:00am PST, 1 year, 6 months after the apparent ‘death’ of Jack Bauer.

Jack felt his heartbeat in his ears. His head was swimming. A pit formed at the base of his stomach. Running his hands over his face, he wasn’t surprised to feel tears at the corners of his eyes. David Palmer was dead. His head was full of questions. Who? Why? This was clearly no accident. Was it a hate crime? Was he investigating something and gotten too close to the truth? He just didn’t know what to think. Without closure, the grief and shock only increased in magnitude. Jack’s burner phone buzzed against the wooden dresser. He recognised the string of digits and immediately answered.

“Chloe?”

“They’re saying it’s you!” She shouted over faint sounds of traffic.

“What?”

“Edgar…he just called me to say that the prime suspect in Palmer’s assassination is you! There’s security footage and everything.”

Jack shook his head. “How the hell is that possible?”

“I don’t know! But what do I say? Obviously Buchanan and everyone’s figured out you’re still alive. The first person they’re going to question is me! What do I tell them? What if they ask about Tony and Michelle?”

He sighed. “If they know I’m alive, they know I’m alive.”

Chloe continued to ramble. “Jack, if they’re already running on the assumption you killed Palmer, they’re not exactly going to ask you nicely to come with them. People are pretty angry, they might kill you on the spot. And then we won’t be able to find out who really did this.”

Moving the dresser aside, Jack opened the panel behind the wall, sandwiching his phone between his ear and his shoulder. He grabbed his bag and sunglasses before replacing the seal. “You’re right. In which case, you need to go dark. People from CTU or other law enforcement agencies could be involved. Look, there’s an abandoned oil refinery in Variel and Topanga.”

A rhythmic knock sounded at the door. Shit. Diane. 

“I-I’ll meet you there.”

As Chloe left her apartment building, power-walking to her car, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Craning her head, she caught a glimpse of a man in sunglasses holding binoculars as he sat in the driver’s seat of his parked sedan. The man quickly put them down, but not fast enough. They’re watching me. Slowing her walking, the scowl on her face clear, two men suddenly came out of the car, running in her direction. She didn’t have time to unlock her car and start the engine. So she ran. Chloe bolted out of the carpark, heading for the nearby mall. She double-backed, made zig-zag patterns, everything she’d ever remembered from her self-defence classes about how to lose a tail. Eventually, she found her opportunity, leaping over the side railing of the escalators, as her pursuers sprinted right past her. After a beat, she made her way to the taxi stand, rapidly opening the passenger door to the confounded driver.

“Variel and Topanga. Step on it.” 

Thirty minutes later, Jack stood at the oil refinery, ignoring Derek’s plethora of questions whilst scanning his surroundings. A small figure suddenly appeared near the fence. As it neared, the blonde hair and khaki cardigan lead Jack to identify the figure as Chloe. He called her name as she threw her arms around him. Jack felt her heart beating at a mile a minute. 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m f-fine. They were chasing me, but I think I lost them.” She panted.

His eyes widened. “Then we gotta move. Get in the helicopter.”

— 

The following takes place between 11:14am and 11:21am PST, 1 year, 6 months after the apparent ‘death’ of Jack Bauer.

Chloe felt Buchanan’s piercing, blue eyes staring her down as she sat in the interrogation room. Jack had already explained his side of the story. Bill was never fully convinced of his guilt anyway, after all, David Palmer was his friend. There was no motive. But he still had to know how the hell he managed to stay hidden for eighteen months. And who helped him do it.

“So Palmer warned Jack that the Secret Service agent planned on killing him?”

She nodded.

“And you, Tony, and Michelle helped Jack fake his death?”

Chloe nodded again.

“That…makes a surprising amount of sense, actually. So where are they? You’re here, Palmer’s dead, what about Tony and Michelle?” Bill tilted his head to one side.

She sighed.

“Chloe, if they know anything that might be related to Palmer, we need to talk to them.”

Shaking her head, she stood up. “I can’t tell you because I don’t know. They never told me what they’d do if someone found out Jack was alive. I’m assuming they got fake IDs and went into hiding somewhere. When my hard drive was broken into six months ago, I warned them, and I haven’t heard from them since. Please don’t go looking for them, sir.”

Bill’s mouth formed a thin line. “We won’t. Until we know for certain whether Palmer’s assassination and the breach of your hard drive are linked, reaching out could still put them in danger.”

She nodded in approval. “All I know is the breach was sourced to Beijing.”

“And so far, all we’ve found is a storage unit for gas canisters at Ontario Airport. So go back to your station, and let’s get going.”

—

The following takes place between 6:30pm and 6:37pm PST, 1 day after the Sentox nerve gas attack on the Los Angeles Counter Terrorist Unit.

Nothing. After dedicating her entire work day at CTU to looking for leads on where Jack was, she found nothing. Glowering at her computer screen, she prepared to pack up and head home to her apartment. A notification suddenly flashed across the screen. She exhaled. One last email, then I’m going home. 

No subject. No source. She prepared to delete it. Damn spam emails. Chloe grumbled as her cursor didn’t move. The friction between her frantic mouse movements and the desk was loud enough to catch Bill’s attention. He too, was curious. After all, if anybody knew how to use a computer, it was Chloe O’Brian. Suddenly, the screen became blank. She briefly noticed her furrowed brow in the reflection.

Then Cheng Zhi appeared, sitting in what looked like a dingy basement, staring directly at the camera. Faint rays of the orange sunset shone through, and the gentle, rocking sensation of the video drew them to the conclusion that he was on some kind of boat.

“I know you weren’t the only person involved in faking the death of Mr. Bauer. You were very good, Ms. O’Brian, but my men can still look for them, just as they found you. If you and the US government promise not to go looking for him, I can assure you we will halt our search. Simply leave Mr. Bauer in our hands, and we will have no reason to seek revenge on you or any of the others involved.”

“Like you got revenge on Palmer?” She was furious. Bill lay a hand on her shoulder, this was not someone she could afford to anger any further.

Cheng shook his head. “No, no. That was not us. Our only agreement with those people was that they would find a way to draw Jack Bauer out of hiding, so we could take him, which is what should have been done eighteen months ago.”

“So you’re saying you weren’t associated with the attacks today? You only cared about finding Jack?” Asked Bill.

“Correct. Have I made my demands clear?”

“You can’t get away with this!” Chloe yelled.

Suddenly, a streak of red appeared in the corner of the screen. A blood-covered, beaten Jack came into frame, as two guards attempted to restrain him. “Chloe, just do as he says! We knew I wouldn’t get away with this forever so just listen to h-!” One of the guards punched Jack square in the face, as he fell to the floor with such force, the camera fell. Static followed, as the video call ended.

“Jack!” She screamed, before bursting into tears. A stern expression fell across Bill’s face.

“He’s right. We have to let him go. I’m sorry, Chloe.”

—

The following takes place between 12:29pm and 12:37pm PST, 1 year, 10 months after the Sentox nerve gas attack on the Los Angeles Counter Terrorist Unit.

Jack stared at Graem, who was now sweating profusely and convulsing. He had to confirm what he was hearing. A small, small part of him still wanted to be able to look at his little brother with love, with sympathy. But he knew that deep down, cutting off ties with his father and Graem was the right call all these years. Their patriotism, their obsession with making BXJ good for America was strange, extreme even. And Jack was the one who’d went to the military. Looking into Graem’s beady eyes, he realised just how much had changed. Aside from age, of course, there was something so different about his demeanour. As though he’d been indoctrinated, brainwashed into behaving a certain way. It was oddly familiar to him. Then he realised. It was the same look of fervent dedication he’d seen in the eyes of those he’d interrogated over all these years. Again, that small, small part of Jack was sorry for him. Sorry that he’d lost his way, that whatever chances they had of reconciling were long gone now.

“David Palmer?”

“Yeah…” Graem was still shuddering. “I gave the order for his assassination. He’s dead because of me.”

He felt nausea rush over him, and Jack suspected this time it wasn’t an after-effect of China. Stumbling backwards, he sat in the hard, wooden chair, bottom lip dropped, looking at the heathen he once called his brother with despair.

“I sent the assassin…I fabricated the footage to frame you. It was all me. He was too close to finding out the Chinese were on to you. And we have such strong trading links to them with BXJ, links we’d built up over so many years. We had to get you both out of the picture.”

“Why?” Jack asked, softly.

“Because I love my country! And in the real world, it means you have to do things, terrible things, even unforgivable things, for the sake of your country. But you know all about that, don’t you Jack? We’re the same!”

How dare he compare me to him? I’ve done a lot for this country, I’ll admit, but things for the sake of its people, not for the sake of the stars and stripes.

He couldn’t contain his rage any longer. This wasn’t Graem. This was far beyond the shit-head little brother that pestered him day in and day out yet he still continued to love. This was beyond the arrogant teenager who got between him and Marilyn, and drove him away from home at the ripe age of eighteen. Whatever he and his father were up to was beyond any sibling rivalry or jealousy. No. The man in front of him was a monster. An inexcusable, repulsive monster. To think he shared a shred of DNA with this man made him feel queasy again. In fact, to think this man was even partially responsible for the suffering he’d endured over the past twenty months made the scars that coated his entire body itch, as if he felt those scars peeling. Jack thought about everything else that had been sacrificed because of the tension between the US and the Chinese. He had hoped that his imprisonment had been enough. That nobody else would have to suffer as long as he gave himself up. But that was simply not the case. Chloe was nearly killed that day, Tony and Michelle were still hiding out somewhere, now possibly with a small child.

Was Graem part of that too? Was Dad?

Whatever the case. Graem had to be stopped. BXJ, his father, whatever ties they have to China. All of it.

It had to stop.

The following takes place between 10:00am and 11:00am EST, 4 years after the detonation of a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia, California.

After the disbandment of the Counter Terrorist Unit, the employees had dispersed themselves near and far. Considering that its disbandment had come months after the siege of the Los Angeles office by Cheng Zhi and Zhou Young, some employees took it as a sign to find a new line of work, far, far away from anything government-related. Others, like Chloe O’Brian and Bill Buchanan, found themselves easily situated in the likes of a similar office, in their case, the Federal Bureau of Investigations in Washington, DC. Despite CTU’s efforts, there were still trails and loose ends to follow from the Sentox nerve gas conspiracy. With the reveal of BXJ Technology’s involvement, it was fair to assume that other similar companies were involved. Unfortunately, they’d done a good job of hiding themselves. Whatever small leads the FBI found weren’t sufficient to warrant a full investigation into any of these private military or technology companies.

When President Allison Taylor was sworn into office, one of her priorities was to investigate the activities of notable agent Jack Bauer, to gain his insight about the violations and morally grey activities that had been conducted by CTU. However, Taylor knew about Bauer’s patriotism to the United States. Significant military service, critical in establishing the prowess of the CTU, and willing to come back again and again despite the loss of many of his loved ones, and even his own freedom, to say the US government owed a great debt to Jack Bauer was a gross understatement. However, she was also insistent on knowing the truth. About not being like her predecessors who believed sweeping things under the rug was ‘just a part of the job’. So she agreed to a meeting with Mr. Bauer in the Oval Office.

Shaking hands, she welcomed the man into the spacious area, as they took a seat opposite each other on the cream-coloured couches. Daylight illuminated the room, with the beautiful skyline of Washington visible from the windows. He smiled at Agent Aaron Pierce, who stood by the door alongside another Secret Service agent.

“What can I do for you, Madam President?”

“I brought you here for a discussion, Jack. You’re aware of the investigations going on into CTU?”

Jack bit the inside of his lip. For the past few days, he’d watched countless senators make out-of-context commentary about the so-called ‘torture’ that CTU had allowed. It angered him, because they didn’t have all the facts. Political discussions like this had the tendency to inspire uprising and protests within the general public. Uprising and protests that would be greatly misinformed. These politicians chose to ignore the time constraints on which many of these ‘tortures’ occurred. They chose to ignore that if it wasn’t for the brute force used to extract information, countless lives would have been lost. Bombings, biological warfare, chemical attacks, assassinations of key figures, so many of these occurrences had been prevented by this method of interrogation. And it wasn’t as if Jack or anybody else at CTU didn’t try to ask for the information directly. They always did. But these terrorists, the enemies the government should be focusing on, are often too devoted to their cause to be willing to divulge information so easily. The ones that did usually demanded immunity. And what good is a Counter Terrorist Unit that frees terrorists to the streets?

“Yes, I am.” 

“I’m sure you have your issues with them, but that’s not what I brought you here to talk about. Mr. Bauer, to say you’ve devoted yourself to this country would be a great subtlety. What I’m asking for is some kind of compromise. In assistance for your cooperation and input into this investigation, and any new bills that result, I will get you whatever you believe is necessary to ensure quality of life. Whether it’s extra security for your family, priority on bringing home any Americans trapped overseas, financial assistance, anything.”

He looked her straight in the eyes. “With all due respect, Madam President, I’m not about to sell out any of my former colleagues, or make any statements that suggest that the actions I or anybody else at CTU took, nay, had to take, were unjustified.”

She didn’t break his gaze. “I understand Mr. Bauer, I wouldn’t have expected you to say otherwise. Look, while I don’t agree with some of CTU’s actions, I do understand your justification, at least to some extent. However, my aim in declassifying the old files is to truly evaluate whether there were other options. One of my priorities is honesty. I want to uncover the hidden agendas or ‘cover-ups’ of the past. And I need to know for certain that all the information about the actions of CTU come to light, no matter how gruesome. And I’m willing to let you come on board with that, which is why I want to help start repaying what the United States owes you.”

Jack pondered this for a minute. Giving his input would allow for the distribution of more accurate information. And aside from his daughter, who hadn’t spoken to him in five years, there were two people from his past he still thought about day in and day out. How they’d abandoned everything they’d ever known and gone into hiding to protect themselves, simply because they decided to help him. And besides, their testimony could support his side of the story in this trial.

Hesitantly, he began to make his request, but was fortunately interrupted by an urgent-sounding knock.

Pierce opened the door, as a red-haired female strode in. “The FBI has a subpoena for Jack Bauer. I need him remanded into my custody immediately.”

The President nodded. “If the FBI need to see Mr. Bauer, then it’s likely to be important.” She smiled at him, “We’ll finish our discussion later.”

Jack furrowed his brow. President Taylor always exuded a strong, determinant aura, he was surprised at how willing she was to let him go. After all, she was the one who’d brought him in to make a deal. But if this agent had the audacity to stride in to the Oval Office and interrupt the President’s meeting, then it was either a serious emergency, or she was just very persistent. Walking with her, he made note of her features. Fair skin, dotted in a constellation of freckles, striking eyes the colour of seafoam, and an overall atmosphere of ‘don’t fuck with me’, he took an immediate liking to the agent.

“I’m Agent Renee Walker, we need you at the FBI.”

“Why?”

“We’ll debrief you when we get there, it’s just down the block.”

She lead him to the standard-issue grey Chevrolet Suburban, as they spent the next eight minutes in silence. He figured she wasn’t open to questions right now. Walking through security and into the bustling main floor, Jack compared the FBI to the old CTU Los Angeles bullpen. The familiar hums and beeps of phones and computers, the stale office air, and the generally tense climate were all the same. A tall, stern-looking man stood in front of him. 

“Special Agent in Charge Larry Moss.” He extended his arm, as Jack gave an acknowledging nod. “You sure you don’t need me there, Agent Walker?” Larry raised an eyebrow at her.

She shook her head. “I’m good.” 

Renee lead him to a smaller meeting room. He was slightly confounded, but also incredibly pleased, to see Bill and Chloe.

“Hey Bill, how are you and Karen?” The silver in Bill’s hair had now faded into a stark white. Jack couldn’t help but feel cheerful when he saw Bill’s face light up at the sound of Karen’s name. He still gushed about her the same way a twenty-something newly-wed would. 

“She’s good. Working as head of security at a bank nearby. We’re just waiting for her to finish the last few months of her contract, then we’re headed for retirement in Vermont.” 

“That’s great.” 

Chloe looked happy too, always a good thing. “How’re Morris and Prescott?”

She smiled. “Good. Prescott’s well, and Morris is working here too.” Chloe pointed to his familiar bald head amongst the sea of workers in the next room.

Renee shut the door, as Jack took a seat opposite the desk. “So what’s this all about?”

“Over the past few years, we’ve uncovered more and more about the Sentox nerve gas conspiracy, and their links to other foreign entities. We though it ended with the Chinese and BXJ Technologies, with your father, but unfortunately there’s still missing pieces of the puzzle. So we started retracing our steps, seeing if there was anything that we never followed up. When we looked into the faking of your death, we realised there were several loose ends. We’re hoping you can help us.” Renee explained.

Immediately, Jack shook his head. “I didn’t exactly have a lot of input in the details of my death.” He’d discussed it so many times over the years, the air quotes around death had become too much of a bother. “What exactly do you want from me?”

Bill spoke next, he figured being a friend of Jack’s would make convincing him easier. “The general consensus is that the real masterminds, the people who’ve been involved since day one, are waiting for something specific. There were a lot of working parts involved, we know about Logan and his political involvement with the Russians, we know about the Chinese being involved so they could find you, but we never found out where it started. Palmer was killed because he found out the Chinese were on to you. But Chloe was targeted that day as well, in fact, within the same hour as the assassination, so it had to be linked. In all our interrogations, nobody had anything to say about her, so it must have been a third party. The only connection between Palmer and Chloe was you, or specifically, the knowledge that you were alive. So based on that assumption, we believe the missing pieces, what these head conspirators are waiting for…”

Jack nodded slowly. “Are Tony and Michelle.” He mentally counted nearly six years since he’d seen them. Even after the Chinese returned him to America, he never found out just where they’d hidden. Understandably, of course, and if what Bill said was true, then staying hidden was the right move all these years.

“Exactly. Whether they’re looking to use them for information, kill them, we don’t know, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.” Renee spoke, before sighing. “I know you, Bill, and Chloe care about them a lot. They were good agents, and they deserve to come home to safety, not spend the rest of their lives in fear.”

“I still don’t see what you’re getting at. I don’t know where they are, if that’s what you want to know.”

“Yeah, but if anyone can find them, it’s you, Jack.” Chloe spoke.

“And then what? Use them as bait? How exactly is that bringing them home safely?” Jack’s tone was hostile.

Renee shook her head. “Think of it as two birds, one stone. You want to bring home Tony and Michelle? We’ll set up a fake-out, a trap, use their old house, make it look like they’re returning, and if our assumptions are correct, then the Sentox conspirators will come after them. And this way, we ensure they’re no longer in danger without forcing you to make deals with the President.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You heard that?”

She smirked. “You could hear the pain in your voice from a mile away. I know you didn’t want to sell out CTU or your old people, that’s why I interrupted when I did.” 

“So I wouldn’t say anything she could hold against me.” Jack laughed through his nose. He didn’t realise he was that transparent. But then again, when his principles came into question, Jack Bauer wasn’t one to take things sitting down.

“Just… don’t tell my boss I said that. I’m not exactly supposed to believe the investigation into CTU is wrong.”

He laughed again. “Okay…I’ll help, but only if you make their safety a priority. They’ve just spent years in God-knows where, I’m not letting anybody treat them as expendable.”

Bill made a hesitant face. “Protecting them is a priority, yes. But we believe that the people who’ve been trying to track them aren’t going to be easily fooled. We’re putting together a fake-out plan, we’ll let them drive home from the airport, but don’t worry, we’ll be right behind them in a moving van. Once they’re home, we start opening the van up, moving furniture around, and two agents who we think closely resemble them will swap out, so we can get Tony and Michelle out of there as soon as we can. But before any of that can happen, we need to find them.”

Jack still felt uncomfortable, but knew Bill was right.

Whatever plan these people have in place, they’re not going to enact it until they can confirm authenticity.

“So where do we start?”

“I have their old DMV pictures on file, once we narrow down the area, I should be able to cross-reference them with that city’s database. Only trouble is, we don’t even know what country they’re in.” Chloe typed away at her laptop.

“It’s safe to assume they left the US.”

“That’s what we thought too.” Bill added.

“When was the last time you heard from Tony and Michelle? Any details you remember could help us find them.” Renee asked.

Jack took a minute to think back, his memory wasn’t quite the same after China. “It was about six years ago, Tony had called, for less than a minute as usual, he said their business was fine, oh, and he said Michelle had just fallen pregnant.”

Renee’s eyes widened. “So wherever they are, they’ve got a child with them, possibly even a second. It would have to be somewhere that still uses English. They wouldn’t have chosen anywhere too remote, in case they came back. And they’d have to choose somewhere with a decent schooling system, in case they stayed long-term.”

“Canada.” They agreed in unison.

 Jack’s eyes lit up, as if illuminated by a light-bulb inside his brain. “Tony and I have an old field ops contact who worked on Canadian border patrol. He was a double agent, used to help fugitives get across. Assuming he’s still active, he would have given Tony and Michelle IDs, cash, everything. From there, we’d have to narrow down whatever province they flew to.”

“What’s his name? I’ll find his records.” Chloe began typing at her computer.

“Booth. Ricardo Booth.” He moved behind her shoulder, nodding when the man’s aged face appeared, with employment still listed as ‘Canadian Border Patrol Officer’. “It’s too much of a risk to talk on the phone, I’ll have to meet him in person. Cell phone number there?” Chloe nodded, as Jack wrote the string of digits on a piece of paper, before pulling out his phone. 

“Yeah?” A man spoke gruffly, with a gravelly undertone indicative of a smoker.

“Hey Ricardo, it’s Jack Bauer, I need a favour.”

The man’s tone of voice relaxed. “Bauer!” Jack pulled the phone away from his ear. Booth was always a loud one. “Long time no see! What can I do for you, man?”

“How soon can you get to Washington?”

“Always straight to the point with you, isn’t it? How about I meet you halfway? Say, Williamsport, Pennsylvania, my home town?”

“Alright. How’s 1500 hours work for you?”

“Done, see you then Bauer.” He hung up.

The following takes place between 3:00pm and 3:27pm EST, 4 years after the detonation of a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia, California.

Jack sat at the coffee shop, surveying the surroundings for Booth. It’d been nearly fifteen years since they’d last met. He held up a hand as he spotted a stocky, balding man in his sixties. Still wearing his work uniform, he acknowledged Jack with a warm smile, walking over to his table. Shaking Jack’s hand with a friendly, yet excessive force, he began lighting up a cigarette as they sat.

“So what do you need, compadre? I’ll cut the crap, I know you didn’t call me for no reason.”

“When was the last time you spoke to Tony Almeida?” Jack didn’t have time to waste.

A light grey swirl trailed behind Booth. “Almeida?” He whistled. “Years man, last time I saw him was when I saw you.”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t think so. Tony’s been out of the country for over five years, and I have a feeling you helped him, and his wife.”

Booth raised an eyebrow, coughing. “Still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Booth, I know he told you they were in danger, and he was right. But I’m helping to get them home, it’s safe for them now. I’m his friend, I’m not screwing him over, you have my word.”

Sighing, Booth leaned forward. “Alright. Yeah I helped him and his missus get across. And they looked pretty fuckin’ scared, which is why I didn’t want to say anything. I can tell you their aliases, but I’ve got no clue where they went after.”

He nodded. “That’d be a huge help.”

Writing down the names on a napkin, he shook hands with Booth once again, before walking back to Renee’s car. 

“Did he tell you anything?”

“Yeah. Gave me their names, hopefully Chloe can use them. Knowing Michelle, she would have made sure there were plenty of tax records there.”

Renee shifted the gear stick, as they took off, Jack dialling Chloe’s number.

“FBI, O’Brian.”

“Chloe, it’s me. Look for ‘Carissa Williams’ and ‘Daniel Martinez’ in Canadian government records.”

“On it…might take a while, those names aren’t exactly unique, you know?” The clicks of her keyboard were audible.

“Hey Chloe, try filtering by address. It should be the same for both of them, so that’ll eliminate pairs in different areas.” Renee chimed in.

“Good idea…got it! Daniel Martinez and Carissa Williams, both working as analysts at Bessel Technologies, both living in Whitehorse. I should be able to get a landline, give me a second.” Chloe smiled as she saw the DMV photos load up, identical to the ones she had on record. It felt good to see their faces again. “I’ve got it, but they’d probably be at work right now, we’d have to wait after five for them, which is like after eight for us.”

“Damn it. Okay, we’ll work on the extraction plan in the mean time, good work Chloe.” Jack replied.

—

The following takes place between 6:15pm and 6:34pm MST, 4 years after the detonation of a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia, California.

Since escaping the US nearly five years ago, Tony and Michelle had managed to make Whitehorse work for them. Their jobs were well-paying, stable. While the mundane nature of their work drove them slightly insane, after all, they’d chosen to work at CTU for a reason, it was comforting to have a routine, a certainty in their lives. The flexible hours also meant they could be home to raise their two children, Joseph, nearly six, and Christina, two-and-a-half. The boy sat, playing on the carpet with his toys, as Michelle fed Christina, and Tony washed the last of the dinner dishes. What hadn’t left the backs of their minds over the years was wondering whether they’d ever be able to come back. After all, Whitehorse was shelter, but Los Angeles was home. They’d cut off all contact with the US, with Chloe, and Jack especially, after she’d given the duress code all those years ago. But they’d never actually thought of how they’d judge whether it was safe to return. They’d kept an eye on the news, but it wasn’t like Fox had a ‘Jack Bauer’ section.

The landline rang, Tony whipped his head around, quickly drying his hands before picking up the phone.

“Martinez.”

It didn’t matter whose name it was, the intonation of those three syllables left no room for doubt to indicate that Tony Almeida was on the other end of that phone.

“Tony, it’s Bill.”

What the fuck?

Michelle saw Tony’s eyes widen, and skin become ghastly pale, much like it did the day Chloe called at the obstetrician’s office. She knew it could mean only one thing. Someone had found them, which meant they had to run. He mouthed the words ‘it’s Bill’. She was flabbergasted, as she walked over to the receiver, hitting the ‘Speaker’ button.

“I think you have the wrong number, sir.” His voice said calm, his eyes said panic.

“It’s a secure line, we know where you are, no need to bullshit me.” Bill smiled. They were at a loss for words. “How are you both? I’m assuming Michelle can hear me?”

“We’re…we’re fine. What about Jack and Chloe, are they okay?” Michelle replied, her wavering voice confirming Bill’s assumption. She was still in shock.

“They’re both safe, actually, they’re next to me.”

“It’s good to hear your voices.” They’d never heard Chloe sound so gentle before.

“Thank God you’ve both been okay all this time, I’m so sorry it’s taken this long.” Jack sounded so apologetic.

“It’s okay, Jack, really, we’re so glad you’re both safe. Makes it all worthwhile.” Michelle was getting teary.

“Look, what’s this about?” Tony asked. 

“We’re bringing you home.”

Silence followed.

“W-with all due respect, Bill, we left because we thought our lives were in danger. How do you know we’ll be safe?” He was already skittish. And for fair reason. 

“It’s…it’s a long story, about a very intricate conspiracy, but we’re putting a fake-out mission together to extract the heads of this conspiracy once and for all. We need your help to do that, then if the mission succeeds, you’ll be able to come home.”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” Michelle leaned on the counter to steady herself.

“You don’t have to say anything, we’ll be in touch soon.” The sound of the phone’s repetitive beeping filled the room.

“Oh my God. We can…Tony…we can go home.” Her voice had a softness, a sense of relief, to it.

He shook his head. “But what if…what if this mission isn’t it? What if the minute we get back there, something happens? Michelle…we’ve got the kids to think about now, it’s a huge deal.”

She exhaled. “I-I know. But I trust Jack, and Bill, and I can’t…I can’t live a lie anymore. Of course the kids being safe is my first priority, always, but they’re growing up. They’re our kids, Tony, they’re going to have questions, and I don’t want to deceive them. If we can be back, where we belong, with our own names, isn’t that what’s best for them?” Michelle was crying now, desperately grabbing tissues so the children wouldn’t notice.

He hugged her. “Look, we’ll get more information soon, once we can assess the situation, it’ll be clear, but for now, just…just don’t get your hopes up, alright?”

—

After some persuasion, Tony and Michelle knew it would be safest if they left their children in Whitehorse. Karen promptly flew over, and after a few days of adjustment, it seemed as though Joseph and Christina had taken a liking to her. Having never met their biological grandparents, Karen essentially became their temporary grandma. She brought over a plethora of toys and American candy, knowing it would take away some of the anxiety from not being with their parents. But she knew that with Bill and Jack running tactical, there was no doubt that the mission would succeed.

Meanwhile, Chloe had been the one to add Tony and Michelle’s names to an LAX flight manifest. But of course, actually flying publicly would have been too risky.

—

The following takes place between 3:37pm and 3:51pm MST, 4 years, 3 days after the detonation of a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia, California.

They watched as the unmarked chopper settled in the clearing. Despite having driven several hours away from any towns, they still felt as though the vehicle’s sounds were obnoxious and surely to get them spotted. Tony had his hand wrapped around Michelle’s waist, holding her close to him. As the noise died down, they were speechless when Jack stepped out of the helicopter. Of course they knew he would be picking him up, but it was surreal to see him after so many years. As he walked towards them, smiling weakly, they could tell things seemed a little different about him. He was skinnier, his eyes tired, face aged. They noticed his hands, scarred, calloused. They wondered what had happened to him. Clearly he was no longer in hiding. But what had led to that result?

Jack noticed streaks of grey in Tony’s slightly grown-out hair, bags of sleep-deprivation under his eyes, and a few extra pounds at the waist.

Yep, he’s a father.

“Hey…it’s so good to see you, I’m glad you guys are safe.” Jack said, warmly.

“Could say the same to you.” Michelle teased, sniffling as she threw her arms around him.

“I’m so sorr-“

Tony cut him off. “Jack, don’t even start. We knew what we were getting ourselves into, and we’d do it again in a heartbeat, alright? We care about you.”

He laughed softly through his nose. “You guys ready to go?”

They nodded. Between them, Tony and Michelle fit their bare essentials in a small suitcase. After all, it wasn’t like they were actually moving home yet.

But they hoped that in a few days, they could achieve that reality, and fulfil a hope that had been burning for over six years.

The following takes place between 9:42pm and 10:00pm EST, 4 years and 4 days after the detonation of a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia, California.

The sleek, dark office was illuminated only by the harsh, amber desk lamp, and a dimly lit pair of computer monitors. It was filled only by the sounds of frustrated typing and breathing. Much like the office’s sole inhabitant, it exuded a dark aura. Cold. Calculating. Precise.  The woman leaned back in the deluxe swivel chair, her leather jacket squeaking as it rubbed against the chair’s back Her pale complexion starkly contrasted the glossy, black aesthetic surrounding her. She ran a finger through a tawny lock flowing from her appropriately tight ponytail. Exhausted, she prepared to finish up for the night. Her line of work often resulted in working late hours. But a nice space for herself made it bearable. And she cared about her work. Deeply. No matter how tired she felt at the end of every day, she reminded herself that she was working hard for the empire that would some day be hers and only hers. For her country. For her future. Rubbing her eyes, she jolted slightly as her cell-phone buzzed on the desk. 

“Hello?” She attempted not to sound completely drained of her energy.

“Hey. I just finished cross-referencing the flight manifests for today. I’ve got two matches.”

“Two?” The woman was intrigued. One match normally appeared every few weeks, and even then, it depended how many people she was looking out for. Right now the list was rather short, so two matches appearing was exciting.

“Yep. Tony Almeida and Michelle Dessler. Both headed to LAX in about a day. I’ll send you the numbers.” 

Astonished, the woman could barely formulate a response. She heard a chuckle on the other side of the phone. “I knew you’d be excited. You’ve been tracking them for what, six years?”

“Y-Yeah. Look, I have to go.”

Standing up from the desk, her boots echoed through the hallway as she walked swiftly into her superior’s office. The man looked up, curious. He remained curious as she walked around the large, metal table and planted a kiss on his lips. Placing her hands on the arms of his chair to steady herself, she climbed into his lap, not caring about whatever he was engaged in. This was much more important. He softly groaned, letting out a snort at her enthusiasm. “Something to tell me, Bowden?” 

“Almeida and Dessler.” She kissed him again. “Castro found them. Finally. They’re on a flight to LAX, should be there within a day.”

A crooked smile crept across his face. “I told you it was only a matter of time. They were never going to stay in hiding forever. It was only going to be until Bauer was safe.”  He returned the favour.

“Oh my God. We have to get the plan ready. I have to assemble the te-“

He shushed her.  “Patience, patience.” Staring into her arctic eyes, full of ardour, he reassured. “We’ll get it ready. Give them a chance to settle, though. Don’t want them running away now, do we?”

Sighing, she leaned into the kiss again, grabbing at his tie. He was right. They couldn’t get too ahead of themselves. They had to tread carefully. Chances were that two federal agents coming out of hiding would be a little anxious and wary. 

Cara didn’t sleep that night.

—

The following takes place between 10:00am and 11:00am PST, 4 years, 6 days after the detonation of a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia, California.

Tony and Michelle perspired in the back of the van. It seemed as though they needed to rebuild their tolerance to the heat of Los Angeles. The Kevlar vests didn’t help either. Again, something they’d built up a level of comfort to. It was strange for them to be the ones getting protection. For years, their CTU manifesto was to protect the target at all costs. Never had their own lives been prioritised so highly.

“Your ‘flight’ is landing now.” Jack stared at the laptop screen intently. “Get ready to go out through the terminal, Bill’s getting the moving van together.”

Michelle checked herself one last time. Secured, yet concealed vest. Secured holster. Earpiece. Extra clips. She stepped down from the van as an FBI agent guided her, briefing one last time.

“Look…Jack.” Tony called, before disembarking.

“Yeah?”

“I-it’s not that I don’t trust you, I-I do. But if anything happens Jack, I swear to God…” Tony sounded terrified. Jack was oddly transported to the day of the Cordilla virus outbreaks, when they’d been preparing to swap Michelle for Jane Saunders.

“I know…I know…you’ll kill me yourself.” Jack tried to calm his nerves by quoting what Tony had said to him that day.

Tony shook his head. “Not just that. It’s different now, Jack.” He fished his wallet out, revealing a slightly faded photo of a young boy and girl. The children he’d spent the entire chopper ride speaking so reverently of. “They’re everything to me…” His voice broke. “They remind me every day, that getting out of CTU was the best thing Michelle and I ever did.” 

Jack was tenderly reminded of his own daughter, who at this point wanted nothing to do with him. He placed a reassuring hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. This isn’t a CTU mission, nobody’s treating you as expendable. That’s why I made sure you’d have guns, vests, extra protection. It’ll be a straight swap, you and Michelle will be fine, I give you my word.” His sincere blue eyes stared into Tony’s fretful brown, before he smiled faintly and stepped out.

Walking through the terminal, they followed the typical airport routine. Pick up your luggage from the carousel. Go buy a snack since airplane food is widely accepted to be terrible. And finally, go get a cab to head home.

Recognising the hand signal of the driver of the third taxi in the rank, Tony and Michelle loaded their empty luggage into the trunk and got in.

—

“There they are.” Cara watched eagerly through the binoculars with the head of her field team, Reese.

“Just give them a chance to get out of the car-park, then I’ll start tailing them.” Reese prepared the van’s ignition.

Cara pursed he lips. “I can’t help but feel something’s off here.”

“Off?”

“Almost as if something I read in one of their files isn’t there. Something personal. Medical, maybe? It’s nagging at me, I just can’t put my finger on it.”

Reese snickered. “I think you’ve been reading their files a little too intensely. They’re both here, that’s all you wanted isn’t it?”

She dismissed her thoughts. Reese was probably right. “Damn straight. Let’s go then.” Cara pointed at the diminishing silhouette of the taxi, as Reese took off.

—

After a few minutes on the highway, Chloe, fervidly working away in the cleared-out home across from Tony and Michelle’s, had managed to narrow down a selection of cars that were likely to be the tail. Bill and Larry had the moving van ready near the house. When one particular maintenance van decided to follow the intentionally unorthodox route the cab was taking to the house, the analyst knew she had hit the jackpot. As the cab pulled up to the kerb, she watched the satellite footage intently. The van circled the block before settling a reasonable distance away.

Tony dug up the key from the back-yard, surprised at how well his memory served him, and even more surprised that Michelle’s collection of falsified documents had kept the house vacated for so many years. Not that he didn’t have faith in his wife’s ability, but it had been a considerable amount of time. Unlocking the house, Michelle coughed as particles settled in her nostrils. Although barren, a thin film of dust had managed to coat every last surface in the house. She shuddered to think of any bugs that had decided to keep their home occupied. The cell phone in Tony’s back pocket rang. 

“Almeida.”

“Tony, it’s Bill. Just give us a few minutes to set up our positions, then I’ll give the signal so you can swap with Blaese and Torres.”

“Got it.”

As expected, the moving van pulled up moments later, with dozens of disguised FBI agents piling out with furniture. Larry and his team were the first, entering the house to secure the back perimeter. Michelle peered through the curtains, keeping one hand resting on her gun. She noticed a man in a utility jumpsuit, not unlike those worn by the FBI agents, nonchalantly hovering around the driveway. He moved to examine her Cadillac. She furrowed her brow in confusion, before letting out a small gasp as he attached a small, rectangular object to the underside. Her keys were still on the kitchen counter, as they had been all those years ago.

“What?” Tony came to the window, worried.

“I think he’s putting a bomb on my car.”

—

Reese pressed his earpiece in to hear Cara’s voice over the noise of the agents. “It’s secured. Dessler’s car is armed.”

“Were you seen?” She asked, concerned.

“No.”

—

Jack too, had watched this from across the road. “You guys seeing this?”

“Yeah. Looks like C-4 to me, Jack.” Tony replied.

“Whatever you do, keep away from that car, they might have a remote detonator.”

—

“I figured it out!” Cara yelled into the comm system. 

Reese and Matlin both flinched at the volume of her voice. Their superior sounded manic. “Figured what out?” Reese replied.

“Dessler was pregnant when she left. They should have a kid with them.”

“And?”

“‘And?’ the fact that she doesn’t means that means they knew it wasn’t safe. They’re probably already on to us, we have to move in fast, do whatever you have to, but remember I need Almeida alive.”

—

“I picked up some electromagnetic signals from the maintenance van.” Chloe announced.

“Like a comm system?” Jack moved to her computer.

“Yeah, just trying to get an audio signal…here we go.”

They heard a woman yelling. It was muffled and full of static, but when she finished her sentence with ‘Almeida’, Jack knew the window for a smooth swap was shrinking.

“Bill! Get Tony and Michelle away from that house, now!”

—

Bill nodded with a worried expression from under his cap. Cautiously, Tony and Michelle stepped out. Tony practically leapt into the van, now incredibly terrified of being within a five feet radius of that fated Cadillac. Holding out his hand, he helped Michelle in. Agent Kaya Blaese stepped out moments later, holding a sofa with Agent Marcus Torres. 

Meanwhile, Larry surveyed the back end of the property, not yet able to observe any infiltration. However, the foliage of the palm tree’s across the fence-line, as well as the early morning glare obscured his vision. And the people sent by Bowden were no strangers to combat, or concealment. Taking note of Larry’s habitual glancing technique, they timed the ambush with precision. Before Larry could even respond to Renee, he felt white-hot pain through his throat, collapsing to the ground, gasping, as the bullet pierced his jugular. His surrounding men were defeated in a similar fashion, as Reese’s men barged through the back door.

“We’re in.” Reese spoke into his comm.

Renee’s jaw dropped as she heard a flurry of gunshots through Larry’s channel, letting out a small cry as she watched the bloodshed unfold on the surveillance footage of the backyard. 

“Bill, they’re coming in fast! We’ve got six men down on the north side!” Jack yelled. 

Watching from the safe-house’s front window, Chloe observed a series of beige, Ford Explorers approaching from all sides of the property. Watching over her shoulder, Renee activated her comm.

“They’re moving in! Remember, you have to hold them off until Tony and Michelle get to the FBI!”

“Copy that.” Bill spotted two SUVs. Despite the sheer number of FBI agents present, Bill knew they needed all the help they could get. These invaders were not messing around. He tossed Tony the moving van keys, who looked bewildered. “Take the van and go! I’ll catch up with you.”

He nodded, as Michelle flashed a sympathetic look. With the last few agents filing out, and a rattle of the closing door, Tony rapidly started the van’s ignition, slamming on the accelerator. Michelle tentatively rested her hand on his knee as the truck sped off. 

—

Reese heard the sound of a slamming door, seeing a glimpse of Torres as the click of the master bedroom lock sounded behind him. “I’ve got a visual on Almeida, he and Dessler are down the hall somewhere.”

Meanwhile, Matlin had just seen Tony take off in the moving van. “Wait! That doesn’t make sense, I just saw him take off in the van with her. Maybe one’s a decoy?”

As they began to debate their opinions, Cara could feel her plans slipping away from her. “I don’t care which one it is, we can’t lose him!” The pair both flinched again at her intensity, before promptly following her instructions.

—

“Where are you guys?” Jack’s voice sounded into their comms.

“On the freeway, we’re heading to the FBI no-.” Tony’s reply was cut off by a loud popping sound accompanied by a groan.

“Tony?”

“Shit. I think someone’s popped a tire.” Tilting the rearview mirror, the faint image of a driver in an armoured SUV yielding a pistol confirmed his suspicions. “We’ve got a tail, Jack!”

He cursed under his breath. “They’ve figured out there’s two of you, whatever you do, do not let him see your faces. There should be sunglasses, a baseball cap, something in the glove box.” Michelle frantically shoved a pair of glasses onto her and Tony’s faces.

“Jack, we’re spinning out!” Tony was struggling to maintain control of the vehicle as it swerved along the highway. The truck shook as it dinged cars on either side.

With a deafening screech, the truck skidded to an abrupt stop, forming a blockade across the freeway. Car horns honked as they attempted to avoid the massive obstacle. The vehicle tracking them collided with the body of the truck, causing it to rumble. Michelle braced herself with a small shriek as the truck teetered. They collectively exhaled as it thankfully stabilised. Gazing through her side mirror, Michelle focused her attention on the now slightly crumpled SUV, ignoring the yells and distress of the other occupants of the road. 

“The glass has been reinforced, just stay inside, someone will be there as soon as possible.” Jack’s crackled voice sounded through their comms.

Michelle squinted, trying to identify whether the driver was still alive. Keeping watch, she slowly withdrew her gun from her pocket. Tony detected this, and slowly rolled her window down. He knew if it was a matter of reflexes, Michelle was guaranteed to make her shot. It was as if her and Matlin were two wild animals, patiently staking each other out, waiting for their opponents to make the first move. A predator and its prey. But one was on a time frame. One had a mission to accomplish, and a superior to answer to. The other did not. The other would wait all day if it meant she could fire the shot that would guarantee the safety of her family. There was no point trying to fire through the dashboard glass, she presumed it was bulletproof. Eventually, the SUV driver door popped open, and the assailant stepped out hesitantly. As soon as he stepped out from behind, it would become a battle of instinct.

—

The agents at the front were having more luck, successfully fending off the initial wave of intruders, but not before two additional SUVs showed up, showcasing more and more men. Whoever these conspirators were, they weren’t going down without a fight. Identically clad in military camouflage, complete with automatic weapons and full body armour, these were no simple hitmen. Four of the fifteen men were down already, they weren’t going to be able to hold up a bigger surge. Many of them had taken cover behind their cars, which were also reinforced presumably with bulletproof glass. Spotting the car keys on the kitchen counter, miraculously undisturbed by the commotion, Bill devised a plan.

“Cover me.” He said to the closest agent. Running out the door and across the driveway, he practically dove into the driver’s side of the Cadillac, driving it straight through the sea of intruders. 

Across the road, they watched in horror as the bomb was triggered, exploding the car with a deafening boom, taking out several of the attackers. Flames engulfed the front lawn, as the FBI agents grappled with defending the property and escaping a fiery demise. Bill had sacrificed himself. And it had worked, with very few of the attackers making it through the front entrance.

Blaese and Torres were still hidden in the master bedroom, holstering weapons, ready to take on the invaders. The two young agents were naturally, a little scared. After all, they hadn’t been able to observe much of the action, only listen to the sounds of gunfire and a large explosion. And the minute the intruders realised they weren’t Tony and Michelle, they were screwed.

Reese paced through the hallway furtively, along with his slew of assailants. One by one, they cleared each room, searching for their targets. Finally, they reached the master bedroom, which had been locked shut, a dead giveaway of the agents’ locations. He stepped aside, motioning for his comrade to ram down the door.

The two FBI agents heard the repetitive sounds of wood creaking, as their hearts pounded. As their last security measure submitted, Blaese courageously stepped out, pistol in front of her, ready to take on whatever was about to come through.

She hadn’t even a chance to breathe before Reese blasted two bullets through her skull. 

Back at the safehouse, Renee couldn’t help but cover her mouth with her hand, stifling a scream. It wasn’t just the fact that she’d watched the young girl’s brains being blasted across the bedroom wall. It was the fact that Renee was the one who’d assured her that she would be protected. Nausea swept over her, as Jack placed a comforting hand to her shoulder whilst still observing the bedroom security footage.

They shot her in the face, they didn’t even confirm it was Michelle. Even after arguing? Why is Tony their priority?

In a fit of rage, Torres had managed to shoot down a few of the invaders, but stopped when he noticed no return fire. He remembered the objective of the mission. To pose as Tony Almeida. It was obvious he was hiding in the master bedroom closet, so why weren’t they coming for him? What one of the attackers said into his comm unit connected all the dots. It also revealed a fatal assumption in their plan.

— 

Michelle should have been nervous. hell, after everything that had happened within the past hour, she should have feared for her life. But right now? This was it. Today was the day it would all be over. Questions would be answered. Arrests would be made. Identities would be revealed. She, Tony, and their children could finally live long, happy lives in Los Angeles. No more Canada. No more fake names. Today, they would take their lives back.

She felt power course through her veins as she double-tapped Matlin in the head. Crimson sprayed behind him and onto the road. Distant screams were heard, after all, a man was just shot in the middle of a freeway. Turning to Tony, she noticed his sunglasses were cracked. Pulling them off his face, he had a small cut near his eye from the plastic. She winced as he pulled out a small shard from his temple, before tenderly resting the back of her hand there.

“You okay?” He looked her up and down. 

His wife nodded. “Yeah. There was only one guy. I got him. I think we’re okay.” 

Leaning over, he embraced her, realising he was shaking more than she was. Once again, he was admirable of Michelle’s bravery. He’d seen her protective instincts kick in before with their children. But never as intense as this. Never had he seen her shoot a man so coldly and courageously. Tony hoped to God this would be the last time they’d put their weapons training into practice. The last time they’d have to defend themselves like this.

—

“Dessler’s dead. We’ve cornered Almeida, he’s in the master bedroom closet.” Reese alerted Bowden. “Well…Matlin’s gone dark, so I’m guessing I was right.” 

After listening to the ambiguous sounds of gunshots through both channels, Cara was pleased to finally hear some confirmation that the mission was succeeding.

“You’d better be.” Her voice threatened. “We’ve waited long enough, and flown all this way from Washington, I’m not going to let anything stop me now.”

—

Jack, Renee, and Chloe faintly heard the woman’s voice. Renee was still quivering from Kaya’s death. As Chloe switched from the camera footage to the satellite feed, she pointed out the maintenance approaching the house. Two guards, along with a chestnut-haired woman stepped out. 

That’s her, it has to be.

“Renee, get ready to shoot the guards.”

As the two guards surveyed the area, Jack loaded the sniper rifle, subtly directing it out the front window, while Renee moved to the adjacent window with her shotgun. Fuelled by anger and adrenaline, she subsided her pain and rapid-fired on the two guards. Panicking, the pivotal person moved into Jack’s sightline, as the tranquilliser dart punctured her thigh.

I’ve got you now.

“Alpha team, go secure Agent Torres, Bravo team, sweep the rest of the house. We’ll take it from here.”

Jack and Renee walked across the street, patting down the target’s body for weapons or cyanide capsules, before cuffing and dragging her into the back of the secured FBI van. Forensic officers took down fingerprints, whilst collecting any evidence of her identification.

“Agent Bauer, we’ve secured Torres. All the noise we made drew the rest of the men out.” Another FBI agent’s voice cut through the signal.

“Copy that.” Jack replied mindlessly, walking over to where Bill’s body, or what was left of it, lay. Reeking of burnt flesh and fabric, his aged skin was charred. He ran his hands through his hair, completely taken aback by Bill’s sacrifice. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been there for, before his mind asked where Renee was, and reminded him that the target would be waking up soon, so they had better be getting back to the FBI Los Angeles office, picking up Michelle and Tony on the way. Jack found Renee staring despondently at Agent Blaese’s corpse. The blood had started drying on the walls. She cried, silently. Then she remembered her’s wasn’t the only body to mourn. Walking to the back of the house, she noticed crimson stains across the light sandalwood, and nearly threw up when Larry’s body was the first to appear in her vision. Kneeling down, she swept her hand across his face, shutting his dazed eyes, before doing the same for the other agents on the floor, people she’d worked alongside for years.

Meanwhile, the forensic officers worked with Chloe to figure out just who this mystery conspirator was. A quick search through the FBI database identified her as Cara Bowden, CEO of Blackwater Inc., America’s largest private military corporation. They were headed in Washington, DC, logically of course, many of the larger corporations like to be close to the White House. After all, that’s what they all have in common. The goal of being funded and endorsed by the US government. The cogs in Chloe’s head began to turn, it was all coming together. As her mind raced at a million miles per minute, she forwarded the information back to Janis at the Washington FBI, she’d been left as acting director since Renee, Larry, Bill, and Jack all went to LA for the mission.

This is it…this the missing link. BXJ got bought out by Blackwater. Logan and the Russian treaty. Smuggling in the Sentox, the suitcase nukes, it’s all been through PMCs, and Blackwater’s at the centre of it all.

The following takes place between 9:25pm and 9:39pm MST, 4 years, 6 days after the detonation of a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia, California.

Karen gently ran her fingers through a lock of Christina’s hair as she checked the toddler was still asleep. A smile crept across her face. She’d never had the chance to have children with her first husband, and by the time she met Bill, well, their age meant it was a little on the late side. Of course it hadn’t bothered her, she’d loved her career, and she’d loved the freedom that had come with staying childless. But after a few days with Tony and Michelle’s children, Karen was more than happy to continue being their surrogate grandma. She’d nag Tony and Michelle to bring the kids to Vermont, no matter how crazy it drove them, in fact she’d pay for the flights herself. Karen smiled again at the thought of her excitement. The more logical part of her brain reminded her that this excitement was based on the assumption the mission succeeded.

Speaking of, surely it’d be over by now? I haven’t heard from him all day.

Her ears perked up as her cellphone hummed in her pocket. Stepping out from Christina’s room and onto the back deck, she placed it to her ear.

“Hello?”

Jack cleared his throat. “Karen, it’s Jack.” She detected a hint of uneasiness in his voice.

“Is everything okay? I’ve been waiting to hear from Bill, how’d the mission go?” There was a pause on the other end. A hesitation. Karen felt her heart rate start to increase. “Jack, what happened?” She asked, adamantly.

“There were a lot more attackers than we were anticipating. Bill…he, uh, volunteered to stay out in the field.”

After he promised me he wouldn’t? After he promised me he’d just be running the mission from the FBI?

“He…he sacrificed himself to stop them from getting into the house. He died a hero.” Jack continued to try to find some way of justifying what had happened. To find a way of telling Karen that yes, she’s become a widow, but if not for her husband, several dozen agents would be dead, and two children would be orphans. But of course Jack knew better than anyone that no amount of padding, no amount of explaining, or reasoning, would ever ease the grief, the eternal pain that was only just beginning for Karen. “W-We lost a lot of agents today, young ones too. Without him, it would have been even worse. I’m so sorry.”

She squeezed the phone with one hand, running a hand through her hair restlessly with the other. 

Oh, Bill…

“Karen, you there?” Jack didn’t exactly expect her to be, but asked anyway. 

“Yes…yes. But, uh, otherwise, the mission succeeded? Tony and Michelle will be safe? The kids will be able to come over?” She clung to the hope of some other kind of good news coming from Jack’s mouth.

“Yeah “ His voice cracked, she could tell he was crying too.”We’ve uncovered the conspirators, we’re taking them back to Washington to interrogate them. But we’ll get you and the kids flown to LA privately. There might be a delay with the funeral…but I’ll …I’ll keep you updated.”

“Okay…okay, I understand.” She responded weakly, squeezing her eyes shut as she hung up the phone.

—

The following takes place between 8:00am and 9:00am EST, 4 years, 1 week , 2 days after the detonation of a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia, California.

Seeing as everything was allegedly linked to Blackwater, the logical follow-up was to interrogate Cara and her boss, the founder of Blackwater, Alan Wilson back at the FBI office in Washington. As soon as President Taylor had heard the news, she insisted that the investigation was to conclude there. However, there was to be no investigation or searching of these company offices until the evidence against them was confirmed. All the FBI needed was for either Cara or Wilson to confess to any aspect of the conspiracy, and they would be given the green light. Renee Walker was now acting director of the FBI, seeing as the magnitude of the investigation findings had put a halt to the process of locating a replacement for Larry. The extra work was good for her though, a distraction from the loss. In fact, all of them had been so caught up in their work that grieving had simply been put on the back-burner. They’d called the families of the deceased, but funerals just weren’t a priority right now.

Jack and Renee stood in the vestibule, observing the two criminals, each in their own holding room. He would interrogate Cara, Renee would interrogate Wilson, asking similar questions and checking if the stories corroborated later. 

“How do you want to play this?” He asked.

She suspired, not meeting his gaze. “A week ago, I would have made sure you did everything by the book, I wouldn’t have wanted the senate investigation to start looking into the FBI as well. But now? After everyone we’ve lost? I don’t care what you have to do, we need that confession, to put a stop to this once and for all.”

He noticed how drained her voice still sounded. Jack imagined she hadn’t slept well in days, Renee had been overworking herself, in fact, he wasn’t even sure whether she’d gone home or just slept at the office. He was worried about her, but he also knew that bringing it up now was pointless. Like any other field agent, be it FBI, CTU, CIA, Homeland, the job always took priority. Always. 

Nodding in response, they left via opposite ends of the room.

After days spent chained, being watched with extreme caution, and only given bare necessities, Cara Bowden looked a little less put-together than her ID photo once suggested. Her red hair was knotted, makeup long since gone, and wrists sprained.

“It’s over. We know Blackwater behind the entire Sentox conspiracy, what I want to know is how, and why.” Jack stared her down.

She narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t CTU, you can’t touch me. Not without evidence. And I have the right to a lawyer.” 

Jack tutted, before grabbing her throat, the chair creaking as it slid across the floor to become flush with the wall. Cara gasped for air, struggling in her restraints. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Tell me the full extent of Blackwater’s involvement, and I’ll make this easy for you.”

“G-go to Hell. I’m not t-talking until I g-get immunity.” 

He tightened his grip, as her eyes bulged out of her skull, skin becoming pale. Realising she wouldn’t be much use unconscious, he released her with a drop. Cara wheezed as she regained her breath.

“There is nothing left for you. Innocent Americans have died because of Blackwater and every other company that follows. Immunity is not an option. You tell me everything? I’ll make sure you don’t get the death penalty. We already know about BXJ, about Logan and the Sentox, what I want to know, is who’s left?”

Silence.

“Who’s left?!” He shouted in her face.

Silence again.

Jack pulled the syringe and vial of sodium pentothal from his jacket pocket. “Nothing, huh? You sure about that?”

“Try me.” Her training had given her a level of tolerance to chemical interrogation. In the event that she was captured, and without a cyanide capsule, Cara was confident she could resist giving away any critical information.

Without warning, he grabbed her pale arm, jabbing the needle into the exposed vein. His years of interrogation experience, and unfortunately his heroin addiction, had made this second nature. She hissed in pain as her skin was pierced. A few minutes passed, Cara was insistent on keeping a stern expression. If the feeling of fire in her nerves was bothering her, she didn’t show it. Jack administered another dose. He should have technically waited ten minutes, but Cara was no amateur, she’d built herself up to resist this. Several minutes passed again, beads of sweat formed on Cara’s temples. 

Good, she’s breaking.

Filling the syringe, he injected more into the same vein, the patch of skin now slightly discoloured. While she’d been trained to endure the discomfort, the doses had been spread out. Cara didn’t remember exactly how much she’d been given before the pain started to bother her, but she knew it was far greater than what was currently in her system. She mentally told herself to keep resisting, that if she didn’t show pain, maybe Jack would be too eager and accidentally kill her. He seemed pretty angry by this point anyways, who’s to say his passion wouldn’t be his downfall?

But Jack wasn’t stupid enough to fall for that. If it wasn’t for the thorough body search he’d ordered, Cara would have long since swallowed that cyanide. He couldn’t afford to lose her. Turning his back, he rested the syringe on the table, making it look as though he was filling the syringe with more sodium pentothal. But by obscuring her vision, she couldn’t see him fill the syringe with water. Her eyes widened as Jack approached her again. Within seconds, she’d begun to scream, meaning the nocebo had worked. Again, he mimed filling the syringe with the serum, and returned to Cara.

It was getting too much for her to bear, she was expecting to at least feel some part of her body shutting down, to indicate something was failing, to fill her hopes that she would die, yet the pain simply worsened. Cara was completely alert as every inch of her body burned. She wasn’t dying any time soon. And Cara slowly came to understand that it really was all over. Even if she didn’t confess everything, she was going to jail for the attack on Dessler and Almeida. With her and Wilson in jail, the operations were finished. The government had already taken down the political ring and BXJ, it wouldn’t be long before they found evidence on the remaining divisions.

“F-fine! I’ll talk.” Cara breathed heavily, slumped forward in her chair. “A-all of the subsidiaries were tasked with importing a certain weapon. Starkwood…Jonas Hodges…it was his job to work with Benjamin Juma in Sangala, they were going to bring in some biotoxin, a prion variant.” She was panting.

Jack still held the full syringe up. “And the others?”

“Arma Corp…they were working with North Korea…upgrading stealth technology on missiles. And Titania…they’d been developing a sarin gas variant in Berlin. T-that’s it. We don’t have any more divisions. You’re right…about everything, Blackwater was the start of it all.”

Placing the syringe on the table, Jack took a huge swig of his water bottle. Another subtle technique. Reminding her that she hadn’t had a sip of water in several hours.

“Okay. That’s the weapons side. What I need to know now is what the hell me, Tony Almeida, Michelle Dessler, and Chloe O’Brian had to do with it. I get Palmer was killed because he knew too much, but why us?” There was a hint of emotion to his voice. This had been eating him up for years. His friends, who’d left the country and risked their lives to save his, he owed everything to them to uncover the truth.

Cara sighed. “Blackwater had been investigating CTU for years. The most prolific combatants were all working at CTU, and being a PMC, we wanted in. We evaluated every employee psychologically, tried to figure out who would be a good fit for Blackwater. The original plan was to kill off those who would never turn their back on the government, the ones who could be objective at all times, that’s why you and O’Brian were targeted.”

“Original?” He squinted at her.

“Well with the disbandment of CTU, that took care of it, suddenly a big threat to our funding, our support by the US government, was gone. Getting you or O’Brian or the others was no longer a priority. But there was still one asset left, one we couldn’t possibly give up on.” Her voice was raspy with dehydration.

“Who?” 

“Almeida. He had something unique.”

Jack racked his brain trying to decipher what she meant. Tony was an all-rounder, he’d seen combat, had computer expertise, even administrative experience when he ran CTU, but he wasn’t the only agent like that.

“A grudge. By being arrested for treason, he already held resentment towards the government, it would make him that much easier to manipulate. We looked for them, for years, waiting for them to be lulled into a false sense of security, to come back to the US.”

His stomach lurched. Tony and Michelle had lived a plane ride away from danger for over five years. It could have been over in a split second, their determination to stay until they were sure it was safe certainly was worth it. 

“So why kill Michelle? You didn’t think Tony could manipulate her out of love? Get two agents out of it?” Jack doubted Michelle would ever be swayed by something he said, her leaving Tony was proof of that. But he had to know.

Cara shook her head. “Dessler was too headstrong, too righteous, a lot like you, actually. We intended on killing her, making it look like part of Logan’s administration, so all that rage inside of Tony would come out. Then he’d be ours. With CTU on our side, and the weapons in play, the government would have no choice but to turn to Blackwater.”

“Then you’d get your funding and the rest is history.” His voice was rife with disgust, as she nodded. It was done now. The truth was out. He just hoped what Wilson said added up. Leaving the room, he clicked ‘Stop’ on the recording.

This enough evidence for you, Taylor?

Walking back into the main floor, he moved straight to Chloe’s desk. “We’ve got a full confession, set up a conference call with President Taylor.” Turning his head, he noticed Renee was nowhere to be seen. 

She should have come out by now, did Wilson really have that much more to say?

His heart stopped when she walked out of the room, her white shirt and hands coated in blood. Renee looked beside herself, as if something had possessed her, and she was now returning to her body. She looked pale, her makeup had run from sweat. Unsteady on her feet, Jack raced over as she collapsed. She was dazed as he called her name over and over again. 

“What happened in there? What’d he say?” Jack asked, desperately. “I need a medic over here!” He shouted, as Janis rapidly dialled her phone. Minutes later, two nurses came up with a stretcher, quickly taking her down to the medical ward. Full of anger and fear, Jack walked into Wilson’s holding room.

If Renee looked beat-up, then Alan Wilson looked like he was on death’s door. His face was mangled, coated in a thick combination of blood and mucus, spreading from his deformed nose. Bruises and grip marks coated his throat. One of his hands looked as though it’d been smashed with a hammer. Track marks coated his forearms. The suit he was wearing was shredded in some places. Jack should have seen the signs, that the grief, the fatigue, the fury, was eating away at her. He bet Wilson ignored the first question she’d asked, and that was enough to tip her over. Part of him was angry, after all, he was a critical witness. If he died, it’d be a huge loss to the investigation. But he was conscious, albeit barely. And that was enough for Jack. 

“Your colleague has told me everything, tell me something useful, tell me why you did all this, or I’m going to finish what she started.”

Wilson was silent for a moment. Jack began to roll up his sleeves. “C-Cyprus.” He choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What did you say?”

“I-it all…started with…Cyprus.”

Cyprus? CTU never did any major field missions in Cyprus, not that I can remember? Unless…

Jack’s mind flashed back to the day of the nuclear bomb. Syed Ali. How the US had narrowly missed starting World War Three over false pretences. 

Was Wilson connected to the Cyprus recording? An associate of Kingsley’s, maybe? It would explain why he worked so hard to make money off this. It wasn’t just about business. It was about revenge.

Walking back into the vestibule, he clicked on the video recording of Renee’s interrogation, and pressed ‘Delete’.

—

Chloe had confirmed his suspicions, Alan Wilson was in fact an associate of Peter Kingsley’s, and had been just as excited to profit off the falsified Cyprus recording as he was. But Jack and his friends had gotten in the way of that. 

That’s why he used me, that’s why he attacked Tony and Michelle. It wasn’t just about money, it was about getting revenge for the money I had a direct role in taking away from him all those years ago.

—

The following takes place between 10:07am and 10:15am EST, 4 years, 1 week, 2 days after the detonation of a suitcase nuclear device in Valencia, California.

Renee and Wilson were both stabilised. Taylor had been given the footage of Cara. While she didn’t like what she saw, given the enormity of the conspiracy, she wasn’t going to argue about his methods now. The FBI field teams had dispersed themselves to the head offices, and interstate teams had been called to do the same. Chloe, Morris, Janis, and the other analysts were already working to obtain physical evidence of transactions off the computers. But Jack knew these people would have covered their tracks well, so he personally lead the Blackwater investigation. There was no way a plan this big, this intricate, would have no trace of existing. Silently surveying the room, he found himself drawn to the wall behind Wilson’s desk. Tracing the bumpy plaster with his finger, he stopped when he felt a ridge. Daylight from the nearby window revealed a subtle paint difference, part of the wall was an older eggshell, then over the ridge it was a newer pearl. Curious, Jack lightly knocked across the wall.

It’s hollow.

Motioning for an FBI agent to come over, she used the barge to confirm the secret of the wall. Coughing on the drywall powder as they entered, the agent shone her flashlight to reveal a small room. Feeling across the wall, Jack found a light-switch. Flickering, the overhead lights illuminated the room.

“My God…” Jack was astounded.

Every inch of the three walls was covered in photographs, maps, newspaper articles, frenzied annotations and lines. He felt sick to his stomach when he noticed his face, his daughter’s, his wife’s, Chloe, Tony, Michelle, countless others.

The evidence, it was all here.

The following takes place between 12:05pm and 12:38pm EST, 5 months after the arrest of Cara Bowden and Alan Wilson.

There was a knock to door of the Oval Office. President Taylor was slightly startled, deeply invested in the document before her.

“Come in.”

A short man in a charcoal suit, with a thinning hairline and glasses to match stormed in.

“What can I do for you, Senator Mayer?”

“You told me you had Jack Bauer ready to cooperate on the CTU investigation!”

The President sighed, removing her reading glasses. “I thought so too, but Blaine, you know with everything that’s gone on at the FBI, that meeting never had a chance to be rescheduled. And besides, I think the only way he was going to cooperate was upon being promised a safe return for Dessler and Almeida, but that’s been done now too.”

Senator Mayer’s eyebrows raised in alarm. “So he’s out?”

“I believe so. You know him, he’s a man of principle.”

“Forget it, I’m calling a subpoena, this man will testify.” The senator left in a huff.

It wasn’t that the President had forgotten the CTU investigation or put it on the back-burner. In fact, seeing how the FBI investigation of Blackwater had very much resembled one that would have been done at CTU, she was determined to evaluate every single instance of enhanced interrogation ever used. If there was a chance this kind of behaviour could be deemed widely acceptable in any other government department, she would have none of it. Sometimes circumstances are difficult, and force may be required, but President Allison Taylor did not endorse torture. Her initial plan to find a sense of understanding with Jack Bauer, a man who’s name appeared in seemingly every CTU file, but the shred of incentive she’d had was gone. So it was time to hand the investigation back to the Senate, who she knew wouldn’t be as kind. 

Returning to his office, the Senator immediately opened his computer. Searching ‘Bauer, Jack’ in his directory lead him to the man of interest’s governmental file. Scrolling through, he searched for Jack’s last known location.

Current Location: Sangala, Africa

He cursed to himself. Bauer couldn’t at least be in the US? Directing the page to the Sangalan US Embassy contact information, he dialled the phone number.

“US Embassy of Sangala, Frank Trammell speaking.” The man sounded about as enthused as somebody watching paint dry.

“Frank, this is Senator Blaine Mayer, I’m issuing a subpoena for Jack Bauer.” 

“On what grounds?”

“Tell him we’re demanding his immediate return so he can be trialled for allegations of torture!”

—

The following takes place between 8:00am and 9:00am EST, 2 days after the return of  Jack Bauer from Sangala.

Jack sat in the court, feeling the judgemental eyes of all in attendance on him. At the podium sat the committee of Senators who had lead the investigation into CTU after its disbandment. He was still infuriated after the events in Sangala. After losing Carl, and nearly the students, to say Jack was emotionally drained was an understatement. While he, along with many other US soldiers, had managed to take down the Juma regime and destroy remnants of the biotoxin Starkwood was prepared to bring in, a great success for national security, Jack couldn’t save the hundreds of children already indoctrinated into soldiers. That was what killed him. That these children were learning to use assault rifles instead of learning to ride a bicycle. And without serious intervention, there was no going back for them.

Senator Blaine Mayer had been particularly vocal about Jack’s torture allegations. As if some cruel joke by the universe, he decided to use the Ibrahim Haddad case as an example, which largely revolved around the actions he took to save the lives of children, something he felt he’d failed to do in Sangala. The Senator just wasn’t getting it. He was another politician who believed that the law is the only necessary weapon, that every case can be handled judicially and peacefully. He had never seen these terrorists, looked them in the eyes only to find nothing there. He had never seen the fatality estimates every time CTU located another threat. Like most other citizens, he was sheltered from the millions of dooms-day situations that used to flow through CTU on a daily basis. The bombs, the gases, the plane hijackings, the pathogens with descriptions that sounded straight from a Stephen King novel. All the Senate saw were the collections of files describing the aftermath. They didn’t see Ibrahim Haddad vehemently proclaim his dedication to his cause, insisting that the US had to pay for its crimes. No, all they saw was a bloodied shirt, bruises, and tears of pain. A human being. And they couldn’t comprehend the idea that the treatment of this human was not a choice, but entirely necessary to prevent the loss of forty-five innocent people, and the grief of forty-five innocent families.

“But please sir, do not sit there with that smug look on your face and expect me to regret the decisions I have made. Because, sir, the truth is…I don’t.” Jack didn’t break his gaze, staring up at the Senator.

Sighing, Senator Mayer knew that this man wouldn’t back down, and engaging in confrontation wasn’t going to be productive. “Okay…we’ll take a break for now, Mr. Bauer, shall we? Instead we’ll move to questioning one of your character witnesses. The Senate calls Anthony Almeida to the stand.”

When asked, Tony and Michelle practically dropped everything to come to Washington for the trial. They too thought the investigation was unwarranted and misinformed, and were prepared to defend Jack and CTU at all costs. Chloe had agreed to watch the kids, after all, even though she agreed with her friends’ opinions, she knew she didn’t exactly have a ‘way with words’ for this sort of thing. She wasn’t a fan of speaking in front of large crowds, nor was she the type to be open-minded or subtle. If it was one thing Chloe O’Brian wasn’t, it was subtle. In addition to Tony and Michelle, Karen Hayes had come down, albeit still in the midst of her grief, she knew Bill would have been there to speak on Jack’s behalf. Other than that, the previous directors and employees of CTU Los Angeles, particularly the ones close to Jack, were all either dead or in prison. But with three credible witnesses, Jack figured he had a fair shot to defend CTU.

The only other person he knew would likely have testified for him was Renee Walker. But after the interrogation of Alan Wilson, she’d been asked to leave the FBI, presumably so they wouldn’t be held accountable for her actions, and likely sent for a psychological evaluation as well. He’d called eight times, each time going straight to voicemail. Jack was worried about her at first, but later realised she probably just didn’t want to talk to him. Maybe she blamed him for the people she’d lost, maybe she felt as though he had a strong influence on her and indirectly caused this loss of her career. Whatever she thought of him, he didn’t blame her.

—

“Mr. Almeida, you’ve worked alongside Mr. Bauer for several years, correct?”

“Yes. Since the early days of CTU.” Tony nodded.

The Senator flicked through his papers. “In that case, you would have been active during many of the cases we’ve been discussing, hm?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Explain your relationship with the accused to me. Can you honestly say you’ll be unbiased in your testimony?”

Clearing his throat, Tony leaned forward on the witness stand. “Like I said, I’ve known Jack Bauer for a long time. Initially, we didn’t think much of each other, I just knew he was another guy who Henderson had recruited from the service to come work for CTU. I imagine he thought the same of me. Then he started blowing the whistle on a few of our coworkers. Wasn’t a huge fan of him after that, thought he was trying to make a point of himself. He’d also already gained a reputation as a bend-the-rules kinda guy. Frankly, it irritated me, because sometimes it seemed like he didn’t even try to do things by the book first, he just jumped straight to doing whatever he wanted.” He cracked a half-smile.  “But my opinion of him changed on the day his wife and daughter were kidnapped. It gave me perspective and made me realise that sometimes doing things by the book just isn’t possible. Had he followed every single protocol, I can guarantee you one of two things. Either David Palmer would have been assassinated on that day, or both his wife and his daughter would have been killed. But he managed to save the President’s life, and at the very least, his daughter’s. To me, that was irrefutable proof, that Jack Bauer always works for the greater good. So yes sir, considering I’ve been on both sides of the coin with him, I say my testimony isn’t biased.”

“Then please, give me your honest opinion of the manner in which CTU, and particularly Mr. Bauer, handled the interrogations of these witnesses.”

“What Jack did to get information wasn’t always pretty. But when you consider what would have happened if he hadn’t? That doesn’t look too good either. And as I said, the man in front of you is a man who has always worked for the good of this country. No amount of personal motivation will ever take over his desire to put the United States first. There is nothing in that file that I believe could have been handled differently. And quite frankly, I don’t know anybody else out there who would be willing to sacrifice the things he has.”

“What about Christopher Henderson? He wasn’t even interrogated, Mr. Bauer shot him in cold blood. You can’t tell me that was necessary!”

Tony sighed, shaking his head. “Henderson was the man who enlisted both of us. He was something of a role model, a leader. To find out that he was behind the Sentox conspiracy was quite frankly, confronting. Furthermore, he was responsible for the assassination of David Palmer, a great leader of this country. And at the time, another colleague of ours, Chloe O’Brian had nearly been killed that day. Christopher Henderson was responsible for the deaths of many people, and without Jack’s efforts, could have easily been responsible for many more, including my own. While I understand that there is a time and a place, that due process exists, so people get the treatment they deserve, this was a government-level conspiracy. Jack knew that with all the strings Henderson had been pulling, he would have gotten off scot-free, and not been sentenced to life in prison or death on rightly-placed terrorism charges. It’s not like he gained any satisfaction from what he was doing, there was no personal benefit for Jack, what he was delivering was justice.”

You could hear a pin drop in the courtroom. It appeared not all of the spectators knew how deep the conspiracy ran. It wasn’t exactly something the government wanted displayed on the front pages of every newspaper in the country. 

Michelle also nodded at him from the spectator area. Her way of silently saying ‘you did good’. 

—

After being sworn in, Michelle sat at the witness stand, not daring show a shred of weakness. Being a female in this field meant she already had to fight to be taken seriously. Her records however, were a testament to her objectivity. Michelle Dessler was no damsel in distress, nor was she someone easily swayed by emotions.

“Ms. Dessler, describe your relationship with Mr. Bauer.”

“I met Jack Bauer on the day CTU was presented with the threat of a large nuclear bomb. He was something of a taboo topic, it was only eighteen months after the death of his wife. So naturally, when NSA suggested bringing him in, I was a little apprehensive. I believe the term ‘loose cannon’ was used.” One of the Senate member’s chuckled lightly. “But by the end of the day, I’d gained an entirely new sense of respect for this man. Here he was, not being paid, not being given a medal for his actions, coming back to the very place that tore his life apart, and he was willing to do the necessary thing to protect this country.”

“This day in particular, he interrogated one Syed Ali, correct?”

She dipped her head in confirmation. “Yes. Ali was the head of terrorist organisation Second Wave.”

“I have here that in addition to physical violence, he staged the execution of this terrorist’s family? What do you make of the way Mr. Bauer handled the situation?”

“Please understand Senator, that this threat was particularly time-sensitive. There was simply no time to coax Ali into revealing the location of the bomb, we already knew its detonation was imminent, so it was of utmost importance that we found its location. These people, terrorists like Syed Ali don’t think rationally, they aren’t always easily persuaded by immunity deals or money. Of course Jack started by asking him directly where the bomb was, then the contact started, usually a bit of ‘roughing up’ is enough to scare these terrorists into divulging information. But for someone like Ali, who’d already had a cyanide pill confiscated from him, he was so devoted to his cause that even physical threats were useless. Faking the execution of his family was the only thing that drove enough fear into him such that he gave us the essential information in time.” Michelle explained.

“I’ll admit Syed Ali was not extensively harmed physically, but what about psychologically? You can’t agree that driving a man to insanity, terrorist or not, is ethical?”

“It’s not. But that’s not what Jack Bauer did. I looked Syed Ali in the eyes after that, before Jack informed him the execution was staged, Ali wasn’t broken, he wasn’t delirious. In fact he told me a critical piece of information, that he was acting alone and not on behalf of any nation. This was in fact true. Ali’s willingness to give useful information, information that prevented the beginning of a world war, is a justification of Jack’s interrogation method. Los Angeles would be a nuclear wasteland if it weren’t for Jack Bauer. And I for one, am honoured to have worked with him.” 

Again, silence followed. Her testimony was assertive, there was no room for error, she had given the facts of the day, and it was clear that Jack Bauer’s actions were in fact, validated.

—

Karen Hayes still managed to hold a formidable appearance. One would never guess she was recently widowed. Her hair colour was slowly fading from its light blonde into a white, and the lines on her face more pronounced, but with her navy pantsuit and fierce eyes, nobody would dare question her fitness to testify. 

“Ms. Hayes, may I first say sorry for the loss of your husband. He was truly dedicated to this country.”

She smiled, bittersweetly. “Thank you, Senator.”

“Now…you haven’t exactly worked alongside Mr. Bauer, but you did interact with him on the day of the Sentox attacks, yes?”

“Yes, I was working at Homeland Security at the time, and had been called in to take charge of CTU after the building was attacked. What I’m actually here to read is a statement on behalf of Bill, he was also a former CTU Los Angeles colleague. He’d been preparing this in the months before his death.”

Turning the pages of the papers in front of him, the Senator replied. “In that case, we’ll jump straight to it, what were Bill’s opinions of Jack’s conduct and handling of interrogations?”

Karen slid her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Unlike many others that I worked with, I was rather open about my approval of the use of physical and chemical interrogation methods. The example that comes to mind of why this is is one Joe Prado. On paper, he looked like a perfectly innocent businessman. Former Marine Corps, no criminal record, there would be no reason to suspect him of any crimes worthy of detainment at CTU. However, this was simply not the case. Prado was planning on helping Yosik Khatami escape the United States after succeeding in his mission to take down Air Force One, an event that lead to the death of President John Keeler, his son, and many others. Khatami was working for Habib Marwan, who at that point was unable to be located by traditional means, but known to be in possession of a nuclear missile. This, like many of other cases being scrutinised were of a highly time-sensitive matter. We needed to know where Marwan was, and fast. But due to interference from legal action threatened by Prado’s lawyer, and a lack of support from the then-President Charles Logan, who we now know to be corrupt, a sanctioned, non-physical interrogation just wasn’t plausible. At that moment, I knew that doing things in accordance with the rules was not going to get us any closer to locating Marwan or the missile. I allowed Jack to resign, and ordered the release of Prado, so his interrogation could be regarded as a private manner. And looking back, I do not regret what I allowed Jack Bauer to do, because Prado’s information allowed us to prevent a missile strike on Los Angeles. Marwan had already succeeded that day in assassinating the president of the United States, and causing a nuclear meltdown, had I been thinking about ‘human rights violations’, the fatality list for that day would have been immensely higher.”

Senator Mayer’s lips were pressed tightly as he took in Bill’s statement. “I appreciate the letter, however we actually dismissed that particular charge, based on, as you said, Charles Logan’s corruption, and the fact that he’d only been sworn in a few hours prior.” 

“Ah, I see.” She shuffled through the papers. “Oh! I do also have a statement from Bill regarding the death of Curtis Manning.” 

“You may proceed, then.” He gestured with his hands.

She cleared her throat. “Curtis Manning was an excellent agent, and his death was a great loss to the Counter Terrorist Unit. It is even more saddening to know that his death was at the hand of another agent, and yes, likely could have been prevented. But I believe it was the combination of Manning’s PTSD upon being face-to-face with Hamri Al-Assad, who was previously regarded an enemy combatant, and Bauer’s own readjustment after having spent nearly two years in foreign captivity, that lead to the escalation of the situation. I must take some responsibility, after all, I let him go in the field so soon after his return, and should have requested a more thorough medical examination. But again, if it weren’t for Al-Assad, it is likely that all of the suitcase nuclear devices would have been detonated, so while I cannot say that Jack’s actions were necessarily entirely justified in this case, I can say that it ultimately worked for the safety of this country.”

The Senator couldn’t argue with a dead man’s words. Especially when those words, along with the others spoken that day, vindicated the actions of Jack Bauer. 

“Thank you, Ms. Hayes.” She nodded, stepping down from the witness stand.

The following takes place between 9:15am and 9:32am EST, 2 days after the return of  Jack Bauer from Sangala.

After a short recess, the Senate had come to its conclusion. The bailiffs hushed the chattering courtroom, as Jack took his place once again before the committee. He weakly smiled at his three friends, acknowledging his appreciation. 

“Mr. Bauer, I requested and lead the investigation into the actions taken by you and the Counter Terrorist Unit, in order to determine the validation of the intensive interrogations performed on witnesses and suspects over time.” He paused. “I’ve now come to realise today, that, while I never doubted your patriotism, I have gained an understanding of the situations CTU was forced to manage every day. Although the methods seem unethical and violent at a glance, and in fact, I do still agree with these descriptions, I understand now that you had no choice. I understand that these graphic, seemingly extreme actions were of no benefit to you, and without them, we truly would live in a different world. The Senate agrees that all testimony delivered today has been objective, and an honest evaluation of your actions. We, the United States Senate, move to clear you of all charges of torture and human rights violations. Furthermore, we move to reinstate the Counter Terrorist Unit, on the condition of full declassification of investigation within a month of their completion. Court is adjourned.”

Sunlight shone through the windows, as if a sign from the universe of Jack’s relief. While he had no intention of working at CTU ever again, he was grateful that a new generation of workers would be able to maintain the standard he and his colleagues had established, to help keep America safe. As the courtroom began to clear out, Jack couldn’t help but grin. He wasn’t being viewed as a monster anymore. For the first time in a long time, Jack had faith that justice would continue to be served under the current presidential administration, a sense of faith he’d since lost after the resignation of David Palmer.

—

The two women sat at the back of the courtroom, at opposite ends, unbeknownst to each other, with warmth flooding both of their hearts as the Senate delivered its verdict. Since the investigation had been discussed on the news all those months ago, they’d been furious, angered, at the way he was being treated and discussed, with the same level of respect as the terrorists he’d worked so hard to defeat. After not speaking to him for so long, hearing the Senate’s comments had driven them to suck it up and make amends.

They’re finally treating him like the hero he is.

Seeing Tony, and Michelle, two people one of the women had been so close to, she was pleased at how happy they looked. How relaxed they looked. For as long as she’d known them, she’d only ever seen them stressed or worried. She’d seen them at their lowest points, it felt good to see them at a higher one. 

The other woman was not focused on Tony and Michelle, but on identifying the woman across the row from her. She seemed to have a great level of endearment for Jack. There was something familiar about her, she sworn she’d seen pictures in Jack’s file. She looked like a close relative.

A pang of guilt struck her chest as Jack moved over to Tony and Michelle. She didn’t know how to approach them, what to say, what to do.

Is he still upset at me? After the way I treated him? I couldn’t blame him.

But as Jack’s blue eyes met hers, she felt like a deer in headlights, frozen where she stood.

“Kim?”

Oh my God, it’s his daughter. Renee, how could you be such an idiot?

Of course he noticed Kim first, he hadn’t spoken to her in how many years. Feeling suddenly very out of place, Renee ducked out of the courtroom amongst the crowd of stragglers. It wasn’t the time, she had no right to intrude on their moment. But Jack had noticed her, in fact he’d seen both of them at the same time when he’d scanned the room. The look of poignance on each of their faces was somehow the same. He wished he could have said both of their names at once. Stopped Renee from running away. Jack needed to talk to her too. But the absolute shock at seeing his daughter, after her decision to cut him out all those years ago, it consumed him. And so grown up, too. It hit him so hard to see her no longer as a teenager, no longer as his baby girl, but as an adult, her own person. Traces of her mother’s features still remained. Another reminder of time lost. 

Kim ran to him, as fast as her pumps would allow her, throwing her arms around her father, already in tears. Tony and Michelle took a step back, allowing the father and daughter to reunite.

“Daddy. I’ve missed you so much.”

He was overcome with emotion, squeezing her back, as if the force would compensate for the years spent apart. 

“I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry for everything you’ve had to see, everything you’ve had to go throu-“

She cut him off, stepping back to look at him, noticing the faint lines on his face, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the hint of a deep scar beginning near his suit collar. “You can’t blame yourself for that. I’m the one that pushed you away because I was too stupid and immature to understand what you did. Instead of taking responsibility for my behaviour, I blamed you. I’m so sorry for the way I treated you all these years.”

Sliding a tear across her face with his thumb, he shook his head, his heart breaking at the thought of his daughter feeling so guilty over him. “Kim, what you had to deal with was something no child should ever have to go through. I can’t blame you for what you did, I kept away from you because I honestly thought it was best. Every time I got mixed up in CTU, somebody paid the price, what you said that day was true. But now I’m taking a step back, trying to make a life for myself away from all of that.”

“Well I want you back in mine. Also, I-I have something to tell you.” Kim stammered, it was almost childlike. “A few years ago, I met a guy, Stephen, we got married not that long ago, and uh…” She gulped. “We have a baby, a little girl. Dad…dad…you’re a grandfather.”

Jack’s eyes welled with tears. “Sweetheart…that’s amazing.”

“I should have told you sooner, I’m so sorry you missed it, God, I’m such a-“

He hushed her, embracing his daughter once more. “It’s okay…because I’m going to be here for you and your family now, and we’re going to make the most of all the time we spend together from now on. No more apologising, no more regrets, it’s over now, it’s all over. No more CTU, no more missions, I’m done.”

Sniffling, she pulled back, pulling a stack of photographs from her handbag. Kim handed him the photo of the three of them from the hospital, taken minutes after giving birth.

He smiled as he flicked through them.

“I named her Theresa, Teri, after….after mom.” 

Jack couldn’t help but cry again. For years he’d forced down his emotions, told himself that not feeling was the only way he’d make it through China, through anything, alive. Now, he let himself feel. After a moment, Kim took the time to talk to Tony and Michelle, who then explained their sudden disappearance after months of consoling her following her father’s false death. They gushed over parenthood together, Tony fishing the most recent photo of Joe and Christina from his wallet. It was a rare moment of bliss for the four of them, hell, it felt like the most normal conversation they’d had in, well, ever.

Finally, they could say they were leading normal lives now, for good this time.

—

The following takes place between 3:00pm and 3:05pm EST, 2 days after the return of  Jack Bauer from Sangala.

Dialling the number he’d dialled eight times before, he didn’t give himself any expectations. But after seeing Renee in the courtroom, he realised that maybe she hadn’t been avoiding him because of something he had done. After the Blackwater investigation, she was broken, distraught by grief, and he’d wanted to be there for her. He’d wanted to support her, comfort her. But he respected her boundaries. If Renee wanted space, then she wanted space. If and when she wanted to talk, he would be there, waiting. Like each time prior, Jack heard a continuous dial tone before the familiar chirpiness of her recorded message, a reminder of who she once was. Waiting for the beep, he spoke.

“Renee…I…I saw you at the trial today…please…please talk to me. I understand if you didn’t want to talk all this time, it was a big thing, a terrible thing to cope with, and I respect whatever you need to deal with it. But you shouldn’t go through it alone. Just let me be there for you.”

—

Renee had seen Jack’s number appear on her cell phone eight times. And eight times she’d been too scared to pick up the phone. She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know where to begin. She was grieving and she had let it wreck her. But she’d always had trouble admitting she needed help, since she was a child. And being a woman at the FBI had simply reinforced that. She was ‘no bullshit Agent Renee Walker.’ She wasn’t supposed to ask for help. Finally, she’d sucked it up and gone to support Jack at the hearing, even if he didn’t notice her until the end. But fate had it that his daughter had chosen to show up for similar reasons on the same day. Renee figured it was some cruel joke by whatever cosmic forces drove the world. Some kind of sign that she should let Jack go.

But the ninth time his number appeared, Renee Walker picked up the phone.

The following takes place between 4:00pm and 5:00pm EST, 1 year, 6 months after the US Senate hearing regarding the Counter Terrorist Unit.

Renee continued to tickle Teri, the sounds of her laughter filling the otherwise cold hotel room with warmth. Jack had begun dozing off, as his eyes fluttered shut, he saw Renee whisper something in Teri’s ear. Seconds later, he felt something soft prod his face. He jolted awake.

Old habits die hard. Or in this case, old Delta reflexes.

Teri was now sitting on his chest, her stuffed polar bear hovering over his face. “Jack?”

“Sweetie, you’re supposed to call him ‘grandpa’, remember?” Renee lifted her from under the arms, planting a kiss on Jack’s cheek as she did so.

Inquisitively, with a face much like her mother’s, she turned to Renee, “But he doesn’t look like a grandpa? And you don’t look like a grandma?”

They both giggled, as Jack smirked at Renee. “Couldn’t agree with you more.” Jack said, before craning his neck to look at the television. Footage of preparations for the Kamistani peace treaty were beginning at the UN, just blocks away from where he was. In her time as President, Allison Taylor had certainly made a good impression on Jack. Between her swift movements to reestablish CTU, and her determination to uphold the promises she made when she was elected, she was a breath of fresh air, and a beacon of hope in an otherwise dark America.

“I want to see the bears, grandpa!”

Bringing himself back to the present moment, he changed the channel to show the bear cartoon that his granddaughter adored but Jack could never remember the damn name of. His cell phone rang, it was Kim.

She’s probably on her way back.

—

“Nearly done?” Renee called from the bathroom. They’d been packing their things, ready to catch a flight to Los Angeles, where they’d decided to move. Even though Washington was Renee’s home, she’d moved around for work before, and now that she was working alongside Jack for Tony and Michelle, it made perfect sense. Plus she’d be closer to the kids. While they’d never explicitly discussed it, Renee knew she and Jack wouldn’t be having kids of their own. Although it was something she’d wanted, a goal put on the back-burner in favour of a successful career at the FBI, being their friends’ go-to babysitter had been just as rewarding.

“Yeah, we’ll do one more sweep of the place, but I think that’s everything.” Jack half-zipped his suitcase, groaning as he stood up.

He heard a rapid knock at the door. Furrowing his brow, his eyes widened as he found Victor Aruz on the other side. And not just Victor Aruz, once a smart-assed yet valuable CTU informant, but a wounded Victor Aruz.

“Victor. What are you doing here? How the hell did you find me?”

“I was always resourceful, Jack, that’s what you liked about me.”

“Get in here. Take a seat.” Yanking him inside, Jack slammed the door.

“What happened?”

“Jack? Who was it?” Renee shot a bewildered look at the profusely sweating, bleeding man on the chair next to the door.

“I need help.”

He rolled his eyes. “You need an ambulance.”

Victor shot out his hand. “No, don’t call! That’s what he’s waiting for. He’s listening to the emergency channels.”

Renee walked around to face the stranger in the chair. “Who?”

“Just listen to me, I have information.”

“The best I can do for you is get you an ambulance. I’m out, I don’t work for the government anymore.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh this you’re gonna want to hear.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“‘Why?’ Because you’re the guy who always does the right thing. There’s a big hit going down.”

“On who?” Renee chimed in.

“President Hassan, at the UN, he’s getting taken out. Russians, they reckon.”

“When?”

“Today, before Hassan’s thing with Taylor.”

Renee and Jack looked at each other.

“You see? Told you you’d be interested.”

—

After receiving Jack’s information, Hastings agreed to have Aruz taken in. Of course, with associates of Hassan’s potential assassin watching his every move this proved a challenge. Despite his and Renee’s efforts, with Aruz losing blood and fast, it was becoming increasingly difficult to carry him. Finally, they reached the rooftop. Jack recognised the CTU logo emblazoned on the side of the chopper. A young agent with dark hair ran towards the trio, accompanied by two others.

“Where are the hostiles?” He shouted over the engine noises.

“They’re dead. You need to get him out of here, he’s losing a lot of blood.” Aruz stumbled into the arms of the other agents as they moved back to the helicopter.

The young agent extended his hand. “Cole Ortiz. It’s an honour to meet you both, thanks for doing this. Look, Hastings wants to debrief you back at CTU.”

Jack shook his head. “We’re not going back to CTU, we delivered him, we’re done. We got a flight to catch.”

“That’s it?”

As Jack turned around he spotted a grey blur rapidly increasing in size. His eyes widened. Instinctively, he whipped around, tackling Renee to the ground. The chopper exploded in a furious yellow blaze. In the corner of his eye, he noted Cole a few feet away from them, seemingly unharmed. 

—

The following takes place between 5:34pm and 5:36pm EST, 1 year, 6 months after the US Senate hearing regarding the Counter Terrorist Unit.

“If something terrible happens and you could’ve done something to stop it, I don’t think you’d be able to live with yourself.” Kim looked at him.

She’s so much like her mother sometimes.

Renee rested a hand on his shoulder. “Jack, I know it’s the last thing either of us want right now, but she’s right. Plus, Victor said the hitter was Russian, I was undercover with Red Square for sixteen months, what if it’s connected to them?”

Damn the both of you.

— 

The following takes place between 10:40pm and 10:52pm EST, 1 year, 6 months after the US Senate hearing regarding the Counter Terrorist Unit.

She felt her skin crawl as Laitanin embraced her again. The stench of vodka on his breath. It took her a long time to even touch a martini after coming back from Russia. He was slightly unsteady on his feet. Clearly the liquor was beginning to get to him. Renee too, was unsteady. The muscles between her legs still seared. Yet another reminder of his presence. It took everything in her to not scream and run away. She had to remind herself that this was necessary. That this was going to save lives, because she was going to get the information she needed.  Still he kept denying her. Funny, how he could continue to deny her of her pleas, yet she felt her life was in danger if she dared to deny him of his. 

“I need this deal!”

He scowled at her. “That is why you’re here? The deal?”

She met his scowl with an equally disgusted look. “Why else? You think I’m here for you?” Renee’s blood was boiling, as she shoved his hand away.

Shaking his head, he punched her. Hard. Nothing he hadn’t done to her before. But back then she’d at least built up a resistance to that sort of thing. She attempted to re-orientate herself  as stars formed in the corners of her vision. But before she could do so, he grabbed her by the shoulders and struck her again. Renee fell to the floor, her abdomen twisting as she fell. Amongst the clatter, the bread knife had fallen to the floor with her. He hadn’t noticed this. Finally, Renee Walker felt as though she had some power over Vladimir Laitanin. With the fury inside her, she could easily take him by surprise. But Renee did not want to let her fury get the better of her. No, Renee channelled her fury into courage. She would not allow let her emotions consume her the way they did last time with Alan Wilson. Renee Walker would exert her power another way. 

With one quick motion, she swept her leg across his. As he flailed to the ground with a generous thud, hearing the tinkle of a tumbler falling with him, she took her opportunity to straddle him, and press the knife to his throat. He jerked instinctively underneath her, hissing as the blade made contact with his skin.

“Get off me, you stupid bitch!” He yelled, thrashing his limbs around.

“I’ve had enough. Tell me the name of your dealer, I want to talk to him, personally.”

He spat at her. “Go to hell. Ungrateful сука.”

Renee pressed the blade in again as he gurgled. He reached up to grab her face, but the collision of her bony knee with his testicles caused Vladimir to grunt in pain before he could succeed in doing so. 

“F-Fine! It’s Bazhaev. Sergei Bazhaev. But he’ll be requesting your services.”

She squinted at him. “And?”

Giving her a sly smile, he trailed his fingers up her arm. The one that wasn’t holding the knife.  “Maybe I just don’t like the idea of sharing you, кыска.” 

Renee rolled her eyes. “You know it’s just business Vlad…”

“I do.” Vladimir pursed his lips, now tracing his fingers along her thighs. “Oh, Renee.” The way he rolled the R at the start of her name repulsed her. Back in college, when a guy did that to her she thought it was the sexiest thing a man could say. But now? It was just another reminder of sixteen months lost. Sixteen months spent under his control. “What am I going to do with you, hm? When did you get so greedy? Although, I must admit I like this dominant side of you.” He purred, tilting his head up. Renee leaned in to kiss him, thinking she had him back where she wanted him. But as her grip on the knife weakened, he took the opportunity to roll her off of him. Renee cried out as he slashed her forearm, and a glob of spit made contact with her cheek.

“You want the rods so badly? Take your friend and go. He’s at his restaurant in Manhattan. But don’t expect me to help you when оставляет он вас высоким и сухим.”

She flashed him one final glower as he left the room. 

Meanwhile, Jack had heard everything through the bug, and while he’d had to sit down, clench his fists, and hold every ounce of rage inside him when Laitanin had raped her, he’d been relaying information to CTU the entire time. But something felt off. It didn’t seem right for Laitanin to just let her go. Or him for that matter. His men had already tried to take him out earlier, what was to stop them from trying again? Jack knew he and Renee had to get out, fast, if they wanted to make it out alive. 

Renee tried to compress the wound. Albeit not deep, the cerated edge of the knife still left a significant blood stain across her pinstriped jacket. She hoped whatever limited information Jack had been given had been enough for CTU. And as if on cue, Jack walked nonchalantly into the room, so as not to arouse the suspicion of Laitanin’s men. Ripping off a section of a throw rug, he made a make-shift gauze, helping her to her feet. 

And much to her relief, the words he whispered in her ear caused every last bit of fear to drain out of her.

The mission had been successful.

They were getting out of there.

The following takes place between 11:20pm and 11:52pm EST, 1 year, 6 months after the US Senate hearing regarding the Counter Terrorist Unit.

Josef sighed as the ignition turned off. He could still hear the sounds of the gunshots riddling his little brother’s chest. A chill ran through his spine as he was reminded of his father’s callousness. Frankly, it made him sick. But it also made him angry. Angry enough to take his father’s precious rods, the whole reason for his brother’s death, away from him. His father would not dare cross him again. He turned and gazed at the container of weapons in the back of the van, before preparing to exit. The ring of his phone interrupted him.

“Farhad, where are you? You’re late.” The Russian was growing impatient.

“Josef, it’s me, your father.” A desperate, not-Farhad voice sounded. “Don’t hang up. Stay on the line. Please. I know you have the rods.”

He thought back to the way he’d left Oleg’s cross hanging on the shipment container. How pleased he’d been with his message.  “Yes. I wanted you to know.” Josef replied smugly.

“The police know too!” Sergei panicked.

A wave of dread washed over him. “You told the police?”

“O-of course not. It was Vladimir’s buyer, he is a federal agent.”

“Just so we’re up front, I’m here with your father. My name is Jack Bauer, I work with CTU.” An American’s voice cut through the call. He could hear faint traces of the man he had believed to be Ernst Meier. 

“Well do what you want with him, I don’t care.” He replied coldly.

“Maybe you don’t, but your father cares about you.” There was a sense of sincerity to the agent’s voice.

‘Cares’? Like he cared about Oleg?

“He negotiated immunity for you. All you need to do is bring the fuel rods in.” Again, Josef looked back at the rods. “Put the rest of this behind you. It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”

Rather than admit the small pang of gratitude he felt for his father obtaining the deal, he would not concede. “‘Safe?’ Did my father tell you about my other brother? What he did to him?”

“Oleg was dying, you know that.” Sergei defended.

“Yeah, we could have saved him. He would be alive if not for your precious deal.” The sound of gunshots passed through the young Russian’s mind again.

“Y-you’re right. M-maybe you’re right. I-I don’t know. That doesn’t bring Oleg back.” The father stuttered. “And I cannot bear to lose another son.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“No you won’t be! You won’t be anything, it’s over! Federal agents are here, they’re going through everything!” Sergei pleaded. “The entire city is under guard! If you don’t bring the rods in, they will hunt you down.” He sounded even more desperate now. “They will kill you Josef! I won’t be able to protect you.” The next few words came out softly. Affectionately. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“If I hand in the rods, how does this work?” Josef hated to sound so defeated, but his father was right.

“Tell us where you are, and we’ll bring you in.” The American replied.

“Just like that?” He was suspicious now. “After everything we’ve done?”

“Yes, I told you! They’ve given us immunity!” Sergei couldn’t contain the excitement in his voice. His son was coming back. “Please Josef, please. This is your last chance.”

Josef was grateful his father couldn’t see the warmth in his eyes at that point. Maybe things really were going to turn around. “Alright.” His voice cracked. “I’ll come to the restaurant. I’ll be on my way.” Turning on the ignition once again, he drove away. 

Farhad screwed up his face in confusion. What’s he doing? Why is he leaving? Quickly, he instructed Samir to take out the driver, the tyres, anything, but the rods. 

The driver jolted as gunshots rang out. And not imaginary ones in his head. Clearly they were meant for him. Slamming his foot on the accelerator, Josef swerved out of the alley and onto the road, desperately driving as the shots diminished.

The sniper cursed as his rods sped away. Samir missed each shot again, and again. Desperate, he yelled at his men to chase after him. But from their vantage point, it would take some time to get down.

Enough time for Josef to escape back to the restaurant and hand over the rods.

— 

“CTU has secured the rods.” It took everything in Tarin to not scream with fury as he informed the president. He could feel his cause slipping away from him. First Red Square’s assassination attempt had failed, and now his idiot associate couldn’t even finalise the deal they’d planned for months. This was his ultimate goal, to bring America to its knees. To make sure the peace treaty with those filthy Americans wouldn’t go through. Tarin grew distressed with every moment. So what does one do when the people you’ve chosen to rely on fail you? You finish the job yourself. If CTU was occupied with securing the rods, they wouldn’t be devoting nearly as much attention on protecting Hassan. After all, they’d already thwarted one attempt, and Hassan had his own security to protect him, so CTU would simply feel no need to maintain their heightened security. 

The Kamistanian president smiled with relief. “Good, good. Finally I can just breathe and focus on this treaty.”

Tarin returned with a fake smile. “Yes, yes, the treaty. But before you get back to work, care to join me for a victory cigar in the park? It’s a beautiful night.”

Omar pondered this. “That sounds lovely, but I cannot be bothered with the hassle of leaving the building. I’m sure by the time we get out, we’ll get a call and have to go back anyway.” The man chuckled.

“Well being your head of security, I think I can pull a few strings. There’s a back entrance with fewer protective measures, we can go through there.” He prayed his charisma would be enough to convince him. Omar was incredibly incisive. Well, except when it came to Kayla. His overwhelming love for his daughter had a tendency to cloud his judgement. So much so that Tarin’s affair with her had still gone un-noticed six months later.

“Very well then.”

—

The president watched the swirl of smoke dissipate into the midnight air, listening to the rhythmic rush of the East River. Finally, he felt himself relax, after an arduous day that nearly resulted in the loss of his life. And how kind of Tarin to give him this moment of peace. Being in the position he was him, a moment alone was a rarity. He removed the cigar from his mouth, letting out a calm suspire. 

Tarin had managed to obtain a rag and chloroform before he’d broken the ‘good’ news to Hassan. Being a foreign diplomat’s head of security helped. Nobody batted an eye when he’d gone rummaging through a janitor supply closet.

Before Hassan could finish his breath, one hand grabbed his waist, and another, his face. Fabric and the pungent smell of chlorine filled his nose as the man struggled. But the more he struggled, the more sluggish he felt. As his vision faded, Omar’s last thoughts were critical.

How could I not have seen this coming?

— 

The following takes place between 2:01am and 2:33am EST, 1 year, 6 months, 1 day after the US Senate hearing regarding the Counter Terrorist Unit.

Jack gently tilted Hassan’s head forward, closing his stunned eyes. He already felt so cold. So heavy. The dried blood felt sticky on Jack’s hands, but he blocked the sensation.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. The whole reason he’d stayed in New York today, instead of blissfully getting on a flight back to LA. The whole reason he and Renee had risked their lives. Protecting Omar Hassan was supposed to be the end-game. They were supposed to finish the day satisfied that they’d made the right choice and achieved what they set out to do. But too distracted by locating the rods which jeopardised the entirety of New York City, and too naive to believe in the possibility of a second assassination attempt, they did not achieve such a thing.

Renee’s face was heartbroken. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes. Jack’s too. He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting there in silence until Hastings’ voice came through the earpiece. 

“Jack! Jack. Talk to me.”

Returning himself to the present, he pressed his finger to his earpiece, reminding himself of its presence. “The uh, statement was pre-recorded. He was dead before we got here.” His voice was weak with grief. Whatever instructions that followed from Hastings felt like a jumble of words to Jack. He didn’t care. CTU saw the video. The White House saw the video. There was nothing to brief on. Nothing to explain. They failed. Softly groaning, he stood and turned to Renee. Tears ran down her face but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. Jack touched her cheek with his thumb, pulling her into a gentle hug. They could have stayed like that forever, just holding each other for eternity. 

But what Jack saw out of the corner of his eye snapped him right back.

A muffler at the end of a pistol sticking through the crawl-space door. Without hesitation, with one hand he grabbed his own gun, and with the other he pushed Renee aside. He knew undeniably that his single shot had blasted the man straight in the face. Years of experience meant his aim was seldom off. But as he fell to the ground with a blinding pain in his lower back, Jack Bauer began to worry. He had made an error somewhere and it had cost him. Jack only hoped that he was the sole beneficiary of his miscalculation. As the burning sensation spread around his body, he felt himself unable to focus, even on his breathing, something he always did to bring himself back to the present. 

Renee let out a small cry as she desperately patted at Jack’s face, her eyes wide and horrified. She clumsily held him in her arms, not knowing how to position him, not wanting to move him too much in case it exacerbated the injury. Jack felt his vision fading slowly, as her pleads rang out in his ears. But as the pain slowly consumed him, his other senses began to shut down.

“Stay with me…stay with me…Hastings!”

“Renee, what’s happening?”

“Jack’s been shot, we need medics here, now!” She yelled into her comm, as Jack’s eyes fluttered closed.

—

Chloe’s face dropped as Renee’s desperate message entered her ears. Immediately, her mind went to Kim, who she’d reassured nearly twelve hours ago that her dad would be safe, and that she’d personally book his flight home to LA. She felt queasy as a wave of guilt washed over her. 

He never should have stayed. I shouldn’t have forced him to. This is my fault.

“Cole!” She called out to the young agent, on his way to leave.

“Yeah?”

“Jack…he has a daughter, she would have just gotten back to LA.” She could barely communicate her thoughts.

He nodded, sympathetically. “They don’t need me for clean-up, I’ll get a chopper and fly her over. Just let me know which hospital he’s being taken to.”

The corners of Chloe’s mouth upturned slightly. “Thank you.” 

—

As they carried him away in the stretcher, a large oxygen mask concealing his discomforted face, Renee was left alone in the room. The paramedic had raised an eyebrow when she hadn’t decided to join them in the ambulance, but she insisted she just needed a minute to process herself. Without the leering presence of other agents, she began to sob into her hands, which smelled faintly of gunpowder. Never one to cry in front of others, always one to command a tough façade, ensuring that when people thought of Renee Walker, they associated it immediately with ‘tough as nails’, Renee allowed herself to finally break down. By this point she had been awake for over twenty-four hours. She had forced herself to endure Laitanin’s abuse. She had set out to protect Omar Hassan, and not delivered. She was exhausted. But nevertheless furious. At herself, yes. The bullet that had struck the man she so dearly loved was meant for her. And for that, she was furious with herself. But she was more furious at the man who’d delivered it. In fact, she didn’t even know who he was. Renee decided she had a right to the fact.

Forensic teams hadn’t cleared the corpses yet. Walking out of the hidden room, back into the closet, his body sat slumped against an array of coats. Blood coated his face, rendering him unrecognisable. But Renee could not shake the feeling she knew who this man was. His hair was a light orange. His skin, pale, and not just post-mortem pale.  She concentrated intently, trying to figure out where she would have seen such a man before.

Old FBI suspect? Someone from today? He doesn’t look Kamistani…

Renee groaned slightly as she bent down to examine the John Doe more closely, with scorching pain arising between her legs once again. Somehow she’d been able to ignore it while in action before, but now it came to the forefront of her attention. This triggered something in her brain. She tore his shirt open violently, scanning ardently. A huff left her mouth as she identified the small, slightly faded broken cross tattoo on his left pectoral. 

This man was a member of Red Square.

This man was sent by Vladimir Laitanin.

—

The following takes place between 3:03am and 3:16am EST, 1 year, 6 months, 1 day after the US Senate hearing regarding the Counter Terrorist Unit.

“He’s still in surgery, the doctor’s aren’t really sure at this point. I mean, he did get shot in the back. That could affect his spine, which means even if he lives, he might not wa-” 

“Okay, Chloe. Thanks.” Renee cut Chloe off. Her blunt ramblings were not helping right now. Of course she knew how much Chloe cared about him too. Understandably, she was distraught.

Pulling up to the parking garage in a spare CTU car, she didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t even know if Vladimir was still there. Or if he was, with how many men. She didn’t know if the order to kill her and Jack was a private request or a public one. Renee still had her Glock and vest, so come what may, she knew she would be able to defend herself. Warily, she walked into the warehouse, one hand on her weapon.

“Renee? You’re alive? Vladimir’s not going to like that.” Ziya’s voice echoed along the corrugated walls. Renee smirked.  Ziya had a habit of running his mouth, she was surprised he was able to sweet-talk his superior into letting Renee back in today. She was glad it was him in the room and none of the other Red Square members. Over the sixteen months she spent undercover with him, she could tell he always had a thing for her. Which she gladly used to her advantage. If Vladimir wouldn’t talk to her, he would talk to Ziya. No matter how sensitive the information, how jeopardising it was to Red Square, a few minutes of flirting with Ziya later, and Renee would have it to report back to the FBI.

“Yeah. About that.” She moved closer to him, licking her lips. He returned this with a gleeful smile, reaching out to grab her waist. Not breaking eye-contact, she grabbed his throat with one hand, ramming the barrel of her pistol into his forehead with the other. “Where is he?!”

“Who? Vlad?” Ziya asked, nervously, attempting to free himself from her grip.

“Yes.” She kneed him between the legs, keeping him still.

Ziya howled. “I-I don’t know. He said he had some meeting.”

“Call him. Tell him the man he sent is dead, and Meier’s alive. Ask him how long it will be before he gets here.” He hesitated. “Now!” Cautiously, she loosened her grip on him, so he could retrieve his cell phone from his pocket. Scrolling through his contacts, Ziya clicked on Vlad’s number, placing the phone on speaker so Renee could hear.

“Yes?” She could hear faint chatter in the background. The gentle sounds of a fountain. Clinks of wine glasses. Definitely not his usual level of class.

“There’s been a problem.”

Vladimir groaned. “What kind of problem?”

“Meier…he’s…he’s alive. I saw him. In the assassination video. He killed Elson.”

“What? Is Renee alive?” He grunted, the background noise diminishing, as if he’d walked away to a private corner.

“N-no.” He gulped, as Renee’s piercing gaze stared him down. “When are you coming back? We should go look for him.”

“I told you I had a meeting with Novakovich. I can’t just leave.”

She pushed the gun into his forehead harder, as if to say ‘and his first name too’.

“N-Novakovich?”

He rolled his eyes. “Mikhail. Why am I even telling you this? Just go find out where Meier is. You’re the one who saw him, you figure it out.” Renee realised he was growing suspicious. She mouthed ‘hang up’ to Ziya, who nodded.

“O-okay. Bye.” Ziya sighed as Renee released him, still keeping the gun pointed at him.

Ziya exhaled audibly. “You were always a cheeky one, weren’t you?” She raised an eyebrow at him, as he still attempted to make an advance, despite the lethal weapon directed at his chest. “You know…you really hurt me, are you going to kiss it better?” He looked her up and down, hungrily.

Renee had all the information she needed now. There was nothing left to do. Nobody she owed. No more deals to make or covers to uphold. ‘Don’t blow your cover unless absolutely necessary’ she recalled hearing when she went undercover the first time. ‘You never know if you’ll need to go back in.’ That advice had served her well today. Without getting back into Red Square, those rods would have fallen into the wrong hands. But now? It was over. Regardless of what the future held, she promised herself then and there that CTU, the FBI, the CIA, whatever, wouldn’t be a part of it. She had given everything for her job, and now she felt it was due time for her to get something back.

So without hesitation, Renee fired two bullets into Ziya’s chest, and walked out.

Grabbing her phone from her pocket whilst she returned to the car, she dialled the number of the only person who understood her pain right now.

“CTU, O’Brian.”

“Chloe, find out all you can about Mikhail Novakovich.”

The following takes place between 10:04am and 10:35am PST, 6 months after the assassination of Omar Hassan.

Jack’s head was pounding. Artificial yellow flooded into his vision, causing his eyes to sting. Slowly, he blinked. Each blink felt like sandpaper was rubbing against his corneas.Wherever he was, there sure seemed to be a lot of light. It pained him, as if his muscles were out of practice. His body felt heavy. His hearing, foggy. He could hear faint beeping. Muffled chatter. Eventually, he began to comprehend the objects in his field of vision. A television set mounted on the wall. An IV drip. A window. An empty chair. A chair with a person in it. A person. Female. Blonde. Familiar features. Scratch that. Definitely familiar features. Crying. She was crying. But her mouth was curled like a smile. She held one of his hands in both of hers.

“Daddy…” She whispered, sounding relieved, kissing his hand.

Things came back to his mind faster now. He started remembering certain details. His name. The name of his daughter, who he figured out was the woman in front of him. His other family members. His friends. He wondered where they were.

“Kim…” He weakly formed the shape of her name with his mouth. Jack’s throat was dry. 

“You did it…you woke up…they’ve been trying for days, but you kept passing out again.” Kim spoke, her voice full of gratitude.

He tried to move, to sit up, but his entire body felt like an unresponsive sacks of potatoes.

Worriedly, Kim rested a hand on his stomach. “No, no…don’t try to move yet.”

Jack didn’t like this. He didn’t like having such little authority over his body. After China, the right to his body was something he vowed to never take for granted again.

“Let me try to explain...I’ll catch you up on everything.” She sighed, still overcome with emotion.

Weakly, he nodded.

“You’ve been in a coma for six months. When…when you got shot…in New York, the bullet had gone into your back. They were worried it would damage your spine. And they were worried if they tried to remove it then, your body wouldn’t respond well to the treatment. With everything you went through in China…” She sniffled. “They thought your body would spasm and reject the treatment, and make it worse. So they airlifted you to Cedars…and decided if they worked slowly over a longer period of time, your body would have a better chance of healing.”

Again, memories flashed into Jack’s mind. He remembered a dim apartment. A dark sky illuminated only by the lights of NYC. A dead man covered in blood. An important man. Someone who was supposed to be protected. A woman was with him. Red hair. Green eyes. His heart grew warm at the thought of this woman. He wondered where she was right now. When he tried to think beyond that point, things went hazy.

She gave him time to process, bit by bit. Kim didn’t know how much he remembered, how long it would take for his mind to comprehend what she was saying. “The good thing is…it was a success. Your muscles are weakened, you’ll need to get used to being on your feet again…but all the nerve damage is gone, they got the bullet out without your body reacting badly. They even fixed some of the injuries you’ve probably had since China.”

A small smile formed across his face. Although he certainly didn’t feel like the optimal figure of health right now, he knew that soon enough, he would be.

“So I guess the next thing is for me to tell you about what everyone’s been doing. The doctors didn’t want you too surrounded, they insisted immediate family only.” Despite still regaining his consciousness, he could tell Kim was hesitating. As if something she was going to say next wouldn’t be as pleasant. “Starting with me I guess…I’m fine, Stephen’s fine, he actually works here, so that meant I could see you whenever I wanted.” Kim laughed softly. “I took Teri a few times, I just told her you were asleep. Started calling you ‘grandpa sleepyhead’.” Pursing her lips, she attempted to recall all the key events that had happened within the past six months. “Oh!” She took one of his hands and moved it to her stomach. “And I’m pregnant again. A boy this time.”

The smile across Jack’s face widened as he felt the warmth of her expanded abdomen. 

“I’m glad you won’t be missing this one.” She grinned, blocking out her guilt over pushing him away, such that he wasn’t around for Teri’s birth. “Who’s next, uh…” 

Again, Jack could detect something reluctant in her facial expressions. Her body language. Her voice. As if she were trying to avoid sharing a certain piece of information. A piece of information that would be upsetting. The likelihood that everything Kim had to say would be all sunshine and rainbows was small, he realised, pessimism aside. After all, Jack knew better than anyone that a lot of things could happen in a day, let alone six months.

“Tony and Michelle are good…Christina will be at school soon. The business is going well. They’ll probably be here tomorrow to see you.”

Faint images came into his head. But again, at hearing their names, Jack felt a pang of benevolence. As though the people associated with those names were also incredibly important to him. People he loved and cared for very much. Still, the woman with red hair hadn’t left his mind. His memory of her had increased its clarity. The pattern of freckles on her face. Her smile. Her laugh. Her voice…

“R-Renee.” He choked out in realisation. As air made contact with his throat, the dry sensation intensified, causing him to cough a little.

Kim’s mouth formed a thin line. This was it. This was the bad news she didn’t want to tell him. Again, she held his left hand in hers, although he suspected this time it was to brace him, not to reassure him. “I’m so sorry…” She wiped a tear from her eyes, before quickly moving to keep her grip on him. “After….after you went to the hospital…Renee went after the man that shot you. He was sent by a guy from that Russian gang she was undercover with. The guy was in association with people from the Russian government. When she found out…she…she was so upset.” Kim paused, her heart breaking as Jack’s expression, despite the muscles in his face being limited, still managed to convey so much despair. “Renee got into the residence of one of them, Chloe helped her. Y-you have to understand, things didn’t look that good for you at the time.” Now a woman with straight, dark hair popped into his mind. Again, someone he vaguely recalled to be important to him. “She had a gun…she killed the guys from the Russian mob, she killed the guys with him, she just kept shooting. But this guy…obviously the connections he had were important.” Jack knew how the story was going to end. But that didn’t make it any easier when the words fell out of her mouth with a cry. “The president of Russia was there…his bodyguards took her out. T-they killed her.”

A tear rolled down Jack’s cheek. He still had so many questions. But now his heart felt heavy. Sombre. He wished there had been some way for him to tell Renee at the time that he was going to pull through. That she didn’t have to go that far. That revenge wasn’t necessary. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry Dad, I know you loved her.”

Jack still saw her expression waver, as if she wasn’t finished with the bad news. He hated to think he could feel any worse than he did at this moment.

“And…Chloe was arrested after that, she’s…she’s in prison, Dad.”  This shocked Jack more than anything. While all the details about Chloe as a person hadn’t come back to him yet, something about hearing the dichotomy of those two words, ‘Chloe’, and ‘prison’ shook him. Like ‘day’ and ‘night’. Or ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. “Th-they’re going to appeal though. We’ve all been working with her attorney. There’s evidence that President Taylor was involved. We think that’s another part of why she stepped down.”

His expression became even more surprised.

“Oh yeah…she’s not president anymore. Hayworth’s taken over.”

He exhaled gently. He wasn’t sure how much more news he could take. 

“But other than that?” Even if there was more to say, she didn’t think her father was in the right frame of mind to process it. “I-I’m just glad you’re okay. I love you so much.”

While he returned her adoration with a smile, the sadness in his eyes didn’t fade.

—

The following takes place between 11:32am and 11:58am PST, 6 months, 4 days after the assassination of Omar Hassan.

Papers and legal books were strewn everywhere. The faint aroma of coffee wafted from the kitchen. Fingers on keyboards clicked away. Pens scribbled against paper. There was work to be done. Chloe O’Brian’s appeal, the only hope she would possibly have of not spending the rest of her life in prison was in a matter of days. Jack sat at one end of Michelle and Tony’s kitchen table, still in his wheelchair, but stubbornly trying to accustom to standing for long periods of time again. At the other end sat Theodora Gamble, one of NYC’s best attorneys who’d accumulated a humiliating quantity of frequent flyer points travelling between NYC and LA over the past half-year. Former CIA herself, she had decided to pursue her legal career after having to testify as a character witness to justify so many of her colleague’s actions. The perfect attorney for a (former) CTU agent arrested for being an accessory to assassination. But even though Renee’s main intention was to kill Vladimir, the timing of her presence with Suvarov’s made that story seem much less plausible. It also didn’t help that Renee was dead and unable to testify on her behalf.

“How could she have gotten arrested so fast, I mean, one day after it all happened?” Jack was still learning the facts of the case, more and more shocked by the depth of conspiracy between the American, Kamistanian, and Russian governments. It gave him a chilling sense of déjà vu. Even after so many staff changes, he was disgusted at the small amount of time it took for corruption to build up once again.

Tony sighed. “I think they just wanted someone to blame quickly. There was enough media attention going around CTU with Hassan’s death as it was. And without you or Renee in the picture, it was easy to just pin it all on the colleague of the two crazy agents.”

“And nobody came to testify? Even if they didn’t see anything, as a character witness?”

Michelle bit her lip. “Of course we tried to get down there, but all the flights to NYC were blocked at the time.” Jack noted this was likely due to the nuclear rods. “She’d only been working in New York for a couple of months, so I don’t think anybody would have had enough leverage to make an impact, and as sad as it seems, I don’t think anybody wanted to. I mean, Chloe’s never been one for water-cooler chit-chat.”

“Even Cole?” Jack had developed a certain level of respect for the young agent over the course of the day.

Theodora tilted her head. “As in Ortiz? He was arrested for double homicide that day.”

He was taken aback. “What?”

The attorney shrugged. “Guy insists he was set up by Dana Walsh, but there was no evidence to the fact.” 

“Look, we’re getting sidetracked. The point is, Chloe had no one to vouch for her, and the court just assigned a fresh-out-of-law-school attorney with barely any experience in petty theft let alone assassination charges.” Tony raised an eyebrow. “Of course, she wasn’t exactly the most cooperative client either. So yeah, you can see how it all unfolded so quickly. Although the good thing was that she exercised her Fifth Amendment right, so she didn’t say anything to further incriminate herself.”

Jack tutted. “It’s blatant injustice.”

Tony sighed again. “I know.”

Jack turned his attention to Theodora. “So you guys have been working on this for months and still don’t have a solid theory on how to get her acquitted?” 

She met his piercing gaze with her own. Theodora knew full well that Jack was still trying to judge her character. But she also knew full well who this man was and what he stood for. Her grey eyes did not break contact with him as she spoke. “Initially the appeal was supposed to be two months later. We postponed it because we knew you’d testify when you woke up. We were waiting for you, Jack. You know more about what happened that day than anybody else .”

He shook his head. “All I can tell you is about the rods and Red Square. But even if we connect the murdered officials to the rods, by then they’d already been secured, we can’t justify her actions by making it part of that.”

“Look…Jack.” Michelle’s voice was sympathetic. “I know you don’t want to paint Renee as some kind of crazed lover, but you have to admit what she did was wrong. And we may have to use that so we can get Chloe off the hook.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t.” Jack’s voice became gruff.  “But she was an FBI agent, she devoted her life to her job, even after the Blackwater conspiracy, she doesn’t deserve to have her legacy tarnished.”

Theodora’s voice softened. “We’ll try to avoid bringing it up, I mean that’s the whole point of our argument, Chloe’s on trial here, not Renee.”

Jack gave a slight nod. “Tell me more about Taylor. Surely there’s something there we can use.” 

“Well, right as she was about to sign the peace treaty, she suddenly stepped away and admitted there had been conspiracy involved. A little impeachment and admission later, apparently the Russians weren’t going to sign because they didn’t believe Dalia Hassan was a suitable replacement for Omar. So she contacted Charles Logan, since he was on good terms with their cabinet, which I should mention is only due to his ex-wife…”  Her trailing was cut off by Jack choking on his water.

“You’re telling me Logan was involved? Why don’t we get him to testify? Buy him a yacht for all I care, if he can say something that’ll get Chloe acquitted…what?” His voice escalated before realising everybody had taken a sudden interest in the hardwood floor beneath them.

“Charles Logan is dead.” said Tony.

The lines on Jack’s forehead became prominent.

“Well. Brain-dead.”

“He tried to kill himself when Taylor found out the way he brought the Russians back to the table was by blackmailing them.” Theodora elaborated. “Turns out they were also involved in Hassan’s assassination. But the good thing is, since the impeachment’s over, Ethan Kanin and Tim Woods are willing to come forward, that’ll definitely help improve Chloe’s character profile.”

Jack indicated his approval whilst mulling over the new information. “Why don’t we say Renee had some kind of hunch that the Russians were involved, and didn’t want to say anything to CTU in case they had been compromised via the government? That way we can say she only tried to confront them, but then shot at them in self-defence. Think about it, how many times have we saved my ass by emphasising that my hunch was right?”

“Yeah Jack, because your hunches never put anybody else’s ass on the line.” Tony deadpanned.

His friend squinted at him, before promptly ditching a pen at his face. Michelle rolled her eyes.

“Okay, but that’s not actually a bad theory. If we go with the idea that Renee, who had been put on the temporary roster for the day and therefore counts as a law enforcement employee, believed CTU had been infiltrated, then that would explain why she didn’t tell Chloe any details, and we can bring the charges down to entrapment. If that’s all she gets charged with, I can easily make sure she doesn’t get jail time.” Theodora bit the inside of her lip. “Although she might be barred from any future government work.” 

Collectively, they saw eye to eye. It wasn’t arguing that Chloe had done no wrong, such that Theodora just looked like another scumbag attorney. It also didn’t completely sell out Renee, since although she was going to get revenge on Jack, these particular Russians had been just as culpable in the terrorist attacks that had happened earlier. It was honest. Or at least honest enough.

And for the first time in those six months, they felt like Chloe O’Brian had a fighting chance.

The following takes place between 6:52pm and 6:58pm PST, 6 months, 4 days after the assassination of Omar Hassan.

Chloe coughed on the sand being propelled into her airways. Her navy jumpsuit was torn in a few places. The harsh sunset had turned the sky into a blazing orange. She ran her fingers through her hair, massaging the pounding sensation in her head. A grunt left her mouth as her fingers were halted by a large knot. As she placed a hand on the ground to lift herself up, she flinched. The ground was scorching. Chloe felt something dragging her down. Upon further inspection, a small, messenger bag was saddled around her. She squeezed her eyes shut as another wave of dust blew around her. Undoing the velcro hatch, she examined the contents of the bag. A small water bottle. Some crackers. A wad of twenties. A battery pack. But most critically, a cell phone.

—

The following takes place between 7:02pm and 7:15pm PST, 6 months, 4 days after the assassination of Omar Hassan.

“I’m not going to lie, I can’t help but harbour a little resentment, after all, the mother of my child is in jail because she helped your girlfriend go get killed on a revenge-spree for you.” Morris exhaled. “But I understand. You’ve been through thick and thin together, and when I was out of the picture, you were a good friend to her.”

Jack shrugged. He didn’t expect any less from him. And the bluntness of his statement was just another testament to why he and Chloe were so perfect for each other. Morris was also stressed. Not only was his wife in a prison across the country, but he was still fairly new at trying to manage single fatherhood. The fact that he had re-taken up the occupation of Beverly Hills shoes salesmen wasn’t helping financially either.

“Well we made a breakthrough with the attorney today, we’re going to try for entrapment, say she had no idea what Renee was making her do.” He rotated the laptop so Morris could see.

Morris rubbed his chin between his thumb and index finger. “That sounds promising.”

A ringing house phone broke his concentration. Groaning, Morris lifted it from the receiver. “Hello?”

“Morris? Morris! Can you hear me?” A crackled female voice came through, one belonging to none other than Chloe O’Brian.

“Darling?” Jack spun around in bewilderment. “Is that you? You’re breaking up. Where are you?” He pressed the ‘Speaker’ button.

‘I-I don’t know! I think I was drugged, o-or something! The last thing I remember was the warden bringing me my food, then I felt dizzy, and t-that’s it! I was out!.”

Morris clicked his fingers. “Jack, pass me your laptop and your cell-phone, I’m going to forward the call so I can trace her location.” 

He obliged without hesitation. “Chloe, just stay on the line, we’re going to find you.”

“Jack? Is that you? You’re alive? Oh thank God.” 

The Brit continued to hum away, as the map zoomed further and further in.

“Yeah, it’s me. I pulled through.”

“Bloody Hell.”

“What?” Jack and Chloe asked.

“She’s just past San Bernardino.”

“As in California? How the hell did she get from New York to California?” Jack pivoted the screen towards him.

“Whatever the case, we’re coming to get you darling.” The jingle of Morris’ car keys sounded.

“Wait. We can’t, not yet at least.” Morris crinkled his nose at Jack’s protest. “If we do, we’ll be aiding and abetting a fugitive, then she’ll have no hope of an acquittal, we need to take this one step at a time.”

“He’s right, Morris. Look, don’t worry, whoever did this to me, they left me cash, a cell phone, even water. I’ll be fine, I’m sure I’ll be able to get to a station and turn myself into the police tomorrow morning.” 

Jack pinched his nose. “Who would go to the trouble of flying you from New York and dumping you in California with a survival kit?”

“I-I don’t know. I should probably save my battery too, but I’ll let you know when I get somewhere safe.”

“Be careful, love.” Morris warned.

“I will.”

—

The following takes place between 8:34pm and 8:40pm EST, 6 month, 4 days after the assassination of Omar Hassan.

Dana’s exhale was audible as she refreshed the page once more. Yet again, the figure in her Swiss Account had not changed.

Balance: $74,023.43

Frustrated, she pulled out her burner phone. There were supposed to be significantly more digits preceding that decimal point by now.

“It’s me.” Dana had trained herself well by now to conceal her country drawl, but it had a tendency to show when she grew flustered.

“Hello to you too Dana…” Anatol sounded amused.

“I got O’Brian out, just like you wanted, now where’s my money?” Dana did not.

The Russian tutted. “‘Patience is a virtue’. Is that not something you Westerners say? You will get the payment when we have her.”

“The deal was you’d pay me as soon as she was out of prison.”

Anatol’s voice deepened. “Well if we don’t get ahold of O’Brian, then your efforts are a waste. I wouldn’t persist the issue, need I remind you what happened last time you disobeyed us?”

Dana thought of Cole, alone and miserable in a jail cell. She had faked a lot of things in her life. Her name. Her origins. Her loyalties. But she had never faked the way she felt about him. She genuinely loved Cole Ortiz, and had planned to spend the rest of her life with him with all the money from the deal. They’d run away. Away from the US. Definitely away from Russia. Maybe they’d go to the Maldives? Maybe Tijuana? Bermuda? “You promised me he wouldn’t get hurt. He had nothing to do with this, I just wanted to finish my last assignment, get my payment, and be done.”

He cleared his throat. “Clearly you do not understand the relationship here. Do you have any idea how much we risked when we planted you at CTU? How tentative we had to be to ensure you’d be promoted to a position of use? Not only are we not willing to just let you go, we expected you to take a certain level of responsibility, and not let half our association get killed!”

“I was under scrutiny, all my communications were being monitored!” She pleaded.

“In any case, you will receive your payment when O’Brian is in Russian custody.” Anatol replied, unsympathetically.

“I want evidence to exonerate Cole. If you’re delaying the payment, you may as well get me evidence that’ll clear him of Nick and Kevin’s murders.”

Anatol laughed. “Even if you get evidence, what makes you think he’ll forgive you? I believe he thinks you set him up.”

“I’ll explain.” Her voice wavered.

“That you’re a Russian spy? Hm. That will go well.” The man chuckled again. “Anyway. We have talked for long enough, there may be evidence of this call now. Прощай.”

Dana threw the phone across the couch.

—

The following takes place between 10:04pm and 10:12pm PST, 6 months, 4 days after the assassination of Omar Hassan.

Panting, Chloe could finally see the outline of buildings in her vision. She’d spent the past few hours squinting at the map on the cell phone in her hand, trying to wander back to civilisation. A flickering neon motel sign indicating vacancy was prominent in all its putrid, yellow glory. She’d settle there for the night, hopefully news of her alleged ‘escape’ hadn’t made headlines just yet. Once she did that, she’d call Jack and Morris back, tell them she’s okay. Chloe wanted to hear her son’s voice more than anything. But she worried if he got excited, he’d accidentally leak his secret at school. That wouldn’t be good, she decided. The cell phone buzzed in her bag.

It’s probably just Morris checking in.

“Hello?”

A foreign, slightly modulated voice sounded at the other end. “Do you know where your son is?”

A pit formed at the base of her stomach. “What? Who is this?” He repeated the question. “If you’re calling this number, you know I’m not exactly at home. Just tell me what you want, I’m too tired to play games.”

The stranger sniggered. “Not one for politeness, are we? Here’s what’s going to happen. You will meet us at nine-hundred hours tomorrow at a location I will send to you when this call ends. Don’t worry, it’s not far to walk. You do that, and your son will be returned to you safe. You fail to meet this requirement or tell anybody of this conversation, and your son dies.”

The pit deepened. Chloe’s stomach bile swished. “Y-you’re bluffing. You don’t have him.”

But the cries of a young boy for his mother contradicted her theory. Rubbing her hand through her mangled hair, she screamed back into the phone, praying he could hear at least some part of her voice. Praying that he wasn’t hurt. “I-I’ll do what you want! Just don’t hurt him, please! A-and at least let me tell my husband. You can’t just let him go running into the streets!”

“Fine. It’s in your best interest for us to see you at nine o’clock.”

The beep of a waiting call interrupted the spiral of concern her brain was traversing down.

“Prescott’s missing!”

“I-I know Morris, just listen to me…”

She was cut off by his rambles. “I-I don’t know how this happened, he was in his bedroom, then I called out to him for dinner, then-“

“Morris!”  He stopped. “Just listen to me.”

—

The quiet hums of the ten o’clock news were suddenly overpowered by a frantic screaming match. Jack bolted upright from the couch, instinctively feeling for his pistol. If he wasn’t going to be as agile as he wanted, he damn well was going to keep himself safe as best he could. Leaning on the couch to brace himself as he stood, Jack realised the voices were familiar. Moreover, they had a static quality to them, as if they were coming through some kind of receiver. His breath eased slightly. The likelihood of intruders was significantly reduced, but he was still intent on finding the source of this mystery noise. His Delta reflexes never once leaving him all these years allowed him to follow the sound precisely. Jack furrowed  his brow when he realised the source was his laptop. He hadn’t bothered to turn it off after Kim drove him home. 

“We can’t tell Jack!”

He clicked. The calls from Morris’ house were still being forwarded to his laptop.

“And why the bloody hell not? You and I aren’t equipped to deal with this kind of thing.” Morris yelled.

It’s Chloe. What’s going on?

“We can’t risk trying to one-up them. They’ll kill him.”

Kill him?

“This is a suicide play. I-I can’t lose you, love. Not after everything.” He pleaded.

Chloe sighed. “He’s our son, Morris. We can’t lose him, either. Whatever they need from me, I’ll give them.”

They’ve got Prescott.

Morris’ breath hitched. “You’re going to give yourself up?”

“What choice do I have?” She cried. “I-I’ll send you the location, it’s some old helipad just heading into San Bernardino. They said to be there nine o’clock tomorrow.”

Jack scribbled the details down fervidly.

“O-okay. Okay. I’ll be there.”

The following takes place between 1:03am and 1:16am PST, 6 months, 5 days after the assassination of Omar Hassan.

“Michelle, how are we going to do this? A couple of pistols won’t be enough.” Tony ran a tired hand through his bed-hair. The minute Jack had called, he and Michelle had begun to brainstorm the best way to intercept the hostage exchange. It was slightly funny, considering that now each of them had been on both sides of this situation. Michelle with Saunders. Tony with Mandy. It felt like a lifetime ago. And in a way, it was. CTU was but a distant memory for them, a part of their lives they were grateful for, but even more grateful to have left behind.

She hushed him. Anxious as they were, they had two children who were light-sleepers, so whisper-yelling had to suffice. 

“You’re right. We need tactical support, we need satellite footage, we need ammo…”

“If only we had CTU.” He said drily.

There was a glint in her eye when she looked up at him. He knew that look all too well. She pushed him out the way and opened the sliding door of their closet. Her tank top rode up her back as she pulled down a small cash box, the one sentimental thing they’d taken with them to Canada. Michelle’s fingers brushed over the lid, forming a small cloud of dust above it. As she pulled it down, Tony went to one of the drawers in the bathroom to fish out the key. It too had become somewhat dusty, despite all the moving. Opening the box, she smiled a little, lifting up a diamond necklace, some ultrasound pictures. But what she was really interested in was the card which sat flat at the bottom of the box. 

Tony’s mouth gaped open, as he gazed upon the familiar black-and-yellow logo he served with pride once upon a time. He used to have a card just like this one, of course it had never been returned to him.

“Maybe we do.”

He shook his head in disbelief. She was crazy. Frankly, it scared him a little. But good scared. Scared like the time she suggested they have sex on his desk at CTU after Chappelle had made them spend their first wedding anniversary working. And in the spirit of reminiscence, he repeated the words he’d said to her that day.

“You’re kidding?”

She appreciated the teasing, and decided to follow her end of the script. “Not in the slightest.”

—

The following takes place between 3:07am and 3:23am PST, 6 months, 5 days after the assassination of Omar Hassan.

They had just left their sleepy and slightly confused children with Jack, and were now on their way to CTU.

“I still can’t believe you kept that.” He laughed through his nose. She nudged him before shrugging.

 “I don’t know why, but I just had this nagging feeling that one day it would come in handy. I’ll be able to reprogram the card once I figure out the new protocols, then I’ll loop the cameras, and we’ll be able to get what we need.”

Again, Tony shook his head in disbelief, reminding himself to never underestimate his wife again.

—

The following takes place between 9:00am and 10:00am PST, 6 months, 5 days after the assassination of Omar Hassan.

Chloe was debilitated. After stopping at the motel for a quick refuel, she’d dragged herself over to the helipad location, watching the familiar, roaring California sun slowly rise above the horizon. Her legs were sore, her neck was tight from craning down to look at her phone. She knew her pale skin was coated in dirt. A cold breeze made itself known through the holes in her prison attire. Chloe was also shaking. She didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t know whether to trust the people who’d instructed her, hell, she didn’t even know who she was dealing with. There was no CTU to trace the call or perform a voiceprint analysis. She was running on assumption. She was running on the assumption that these people wanted her for something. Something bad. And that the only way she’d comply would be by using her only child’s safety as leverage.

Morris too, was shaking. As his sedan rolled up to the specified location, he felt a chill down his spine, as though he were being watched. Other than the parked, dark van he passed about a block before he reached the location, he was alone. Stepping out, he walked onto the large asphalt block, giving Chloe, who stood in the centre, hugging her body, a solemn look. They embraced, holding each other for support, shivering in each other’s arms. 

In an overwhelming rush, unmarked vans surrounded the area, the screeches of tyres breaking the uneasy silence. A similar-looking helicopter descended into the field. The pair looked around, wondering how many people were inside the vehicles, wondering who would step out first, and just praying that their son was in one of them, alive. Much to their relief, he was. The sliding door of the van closest to the helicopter opened, revealing their trembling little boy. From a distance, he appeared relatively unharmed. A gruff man grabbed him by the colour, pushing him forward. 

A large, moustached man came down from the helicopter, its blades slowly stopping. He nodded his approval. So engrossed in their son’s wellbeing, they were dazed to come to the understanding that an array of men yielding semi-automatics had established themselves in a perimeter around them. Whatever little chance they had of escaping as a family had disappeared.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” The moustached man spoke. Chloe detected a hint of familiarity in his voice, she suspected this was the man that had instructed her. “You and your son will walk together. He to your husband, you to us. If you cooperate nicely, they will be allowed to leave in one piece.”

“What do you want with me?” She dared to yell.

“You are responsible for the deaths of many of our officials, and nearly our president. By the courts of Russia, you are sentenced to a life’s imprisonment on our soil. We have no intention of hurting your family Ms. O’Brian, but it was the only way you would concede.”

Morris wanted to yell, to protest, but he held his tongue. They still had Prescott. It was a miracle he was even alive by this point, and that they were offering to keep him that way. Chloe too, had to gnaw on the inside of her cheek to keep herself under control. Blinking back tears, she accepted her fate. If it meant Prescott would be safe, so be it.

—

“I’ve counted eight hostiles outside of the cars. Infrared doesn’t show anybody inside of them besides the guy piloting the chopper.” Michelle spoke into her comm. She sat in the van, staring at the screen raptly. It felt oddly evocative of the time she and Tony tried to get proof of the Cyprus recording’s authenticity, or lack thereof. Shivers of adrenaline rushed through her. Although she would never admit it to Tony, the thrills and chaos of fieldwork were something she missed, if only for a little bit, before the more rational part of her brain reminded her that she wouldn’t have the two children she loved so dearly had she continued it.

“Copy that.” He’d taken up his position on the roof of a nearby building, moving the cross-hairs of his sniper scrupulously. “I won’t shoot until Prescott and Morris are gone, it’s too risky.” Tony too felt the nostalgic excitation course through him. Other than the FBI mission that resolved the Blackwater conspiracy, it had been a while since he’d been out in the field. But it’d been an even longer while since he’d used a sniper. Given his Marines experience, Tony’s early days at CTU seemed like an endless sling of sniping missions, but as he moved his way up the ranks, spending more of his time in the office, those jobs had been given to the incoming fresh meat.

—

Chloe walked heedfully towards the helicopter, her heart breaking piece by piece as she neared her son who was walking towards her. His knees were wobbling, his bottom lip quivering. They walked parallel to each other, in a rhythmic march. Her heart hammered in her chest. She let out a squeal when Prescott had left his path to wrap his arms around her hips. The cocks of guns had her hyperventilating.

“I-I don’t want you to go. I-I’m scared!”

She squeezed him tightly, knowing it would likely be the last time she could do so. “J-just go to your dad. It’ll be okay. I love you so, so much Prescott. But you have to go, okay? Just keep walking towards your dad.” Chloe instructed him, calmly.

—

Tony nearly had a heart attack when Prescott broke the line. Luckily, the armed men had let up once they realised Chloe wasn’t making an escape attempt. He couldn’t help but think of what his own son might do in that situation and it terrified him. Dismissing his brain’s attempt at inserting his and Michelle’s family into the picture, he regained his focus. Tony reminded himself that as long as he and Michelle were there, they were going to get their friends out alive. This was not the end.

—

Prescott was crying his dear eyes out by the time he got to Morris, who promptly embraced him, checking his body for any obvious marks or bruises. The skin around his mouth, his wrists, and presumably his ankles looked pink and tender. He assumed they’d used duct tape at some point. But other than that, the father sighed, acknowledging that his son was safe.

“Okay. I’ve done what you want. But before you take me away, I want to see my family leave.” Chloe attempted to sound assertive, yet her voice still faltered.

“Very well.” The man with the moustache replied. Gesturing with his hands, the sea of guards parted to allow Morris and Prescott, still clinging to his father, to leave.

—

“They’ve left. No one seems to be following them. Seems they kept their word.” Michelle noted, watching the minuscule figure of the green sedan move further and further away from the helipad.

Tony checked his surroundings one last time, before making his body rigid, staring into the scope of the rifle.

—

The distinct click of handcuffs sounded behind Chloe’s head, as her wrists were pinned behind her back. She staggered a little, the exhaustion ravaging through her. The rushes of adrenaline, of terror, were beginning to subside. It had been a few minutes, she hadn’t observed any of the armed men going after Morris and Prescott. Chloe was reasonably assured they would be safe. Rather than appear even more uncooperative, which would simply invite the guards to manhandle her, she allowed her body to be moved by the men. The engine whirred as the helicopter started up again, drowning out whatever they were telling her. It didn’t matter anymore.

Suddenly, Chloe felt a splash of warmth onto her face. She shrieked when she discovered the source of the warmth to be blood, namely from the splattered brains of the guard next to her. The sound of glass smashing caused her to flinch, as the pilot sat slumped in his chair. Other guards dropped like flies, their heads exploding into pools of crimson. Realising the remaining guards had some distance on her, Chloe mustered her limited energy, replenishing a healthy amount of fear-induced adrenaline and ran. They yelled in Russian and attempted to chase her, bullets whizzing past her ears. But each distinctly toned shout was promptly halted. Having found refuge behind a wall, she leaned against it to steady herself. The chaotic clangs had receded. Peering around the corner, she detected no movement. Apparently they were all dead. Chloe could not will her legs to move and check for sure however. She didn’t know what the consequences of this were. Who had done this? Had they gone after Morris and Prescott? Had Morris told somebody else about the exchange to help them? Was it a trap? Some kind of false sense of security to ‘test’ her? 

Heavy footsteps thundering against a metal stairwell jostled her out of her dissociated state. Confusion overran her as Tony appeared, clad in full stealth gear, a large rifle on his back. So overwhelmed and still so scared, she began to blubber as Tony hugged her. 

“They’re safe, it’s okay.” He whispered in her ear, as she shook. “We’ve got you.”

—

“Morris, turn around and get back to the helipad, Chloe’s safe.”

“Michelle?” He’d answered the phone via the Bluetooth system in his car, he hadn’t bothered to check the caller ID.

“There’s no time to explain, we don’t know if the Russians will send in a second wave, we need to get you all out together.”

Surprising even himself, Morris promptly made a NASCAR-worthy U-turn on the road, ignoring the honks of objection.

And lucky he did.

Because had the sedan been at the intersection of Randall and Sierra a few moments later, he and Prescott would have found themselves right in the path of a speeding eighteen-wheeler trying to run a yellow.

—

“What’d you do? Rob a bloody army surplus store?” Morris surveyed Tony’s outfit. He snorted.

Chloe was still crying, now tears of relief, as she hugged Prescott, who by this point, she had not seen in nine months. 

Michelle and Morris were pilfering through the cell-phones and comm units of the dead Russian men, hoping to find some evidence of their identities, maybe even something they could use at the trial.

“Looks like they’ve deleted most of the call history. We’d have to work on them for a little bit to retrieve them.” The phone beeped in Michelle’s hand as she attempted to scour information.

“Already on it.” Morris held the phone of the moustached man, the one they assumed was in charge of this whole thing. “Here. I’ve got the last conversation.” He increased the volume gradually.

“‘I was under scrutiny!’”

Chloe froze. “Wait. Play that again.”

Morris pressed the ‘Listen’ button.

“Oh my God. That’s Dana. Dana Walsh.”

His eyebrows ascended his forehead. “As in the Dana Walsh that’s still in charge of CTU?”

—

Tony parked a few blocks from the police station. He looked back hesitantly at his friend. It felt so wrong to do this, after just risking everything to save her life, yet he knew there was no other choice. She had to turn herself in.

“You guys shouldn’t have done this. You could have been killed.” She said quietly.

“Chloe. We owe you our lives.” Michelle rested a hand on her knee.

Before she could downplay herself, Tony cut her off. “If you hadn’t called us that day, we wouldn’t even have our children. Or worse, we would have had them and lost them.” He looked at her with beholden eyes, as she continued to stare into her lap. “Hey.” She raised her head. “You saved us that day, and now we’ve saved you.”

She smiled bittersweetly.

“Well. Almost. Let’s go get you acquitted first, alright?”

The following takes place between 12:00am and 12:10am PST, 20 years after the day of the California Presidential Primary.

Jack dried the Scotch tumblers and put them back in the cupboard. They’d all come over to pay their respects throughout the day. It had been several years since they’d all happened to be together though. Nobody was interstate. Or in prison. Or hiding out in another country. All of them were in Los Angeles. It was nice to have them all around. Their little network forever a reminder of the loyalties that bound them. Loyalties that had saved lives and livelihoods.

“Sweetheart, I appreciate you staying, but you didn’t have to. I can handle things on my own.” He walked back in the living room to find his daughter comfortably resting in the armchair, having just changed into sweats. 

She gave him an endearing look. “Just because you have, doesn’t mean you should. Besides, these past few years you’ve had Renee or Audrey or somebody. I don’t think I’ve been with you on the anniversary of mom’s death for a long time.”

He racked his brain trying think of the last time he and Kim had spent voluntary time together. Not time forced because something horrible was happening. She was right. It had been a long time.

“God…has it really been twenty years, Dad?” Kim suspired.

Jack nodded slowly, giving her a kiss on the head.

She yawned. It was getting late.

“You wanna head to bed?”

Kim shook her head. “I’ve taken the day off work tomorrow, Stephen will be fine with Teri and Ben, he understands.” She gave him a mischievous look. “And besides, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do with you for a while.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at her as she left the room, returning with a wooden box. 

“Up for a game of chess?”