Chris

July 17th, 2012
12:02 PM

"We're here," Chris announces, pulling into the driveway. Opening the door, she glances over to her sister, "Do you need help getting out?"

Moving slowly as she unbuckles her seatbelt, Caiti simply shakes her head. She hadn't spoken much since she got out of surgery and Chris hoped that it was just the events of the past few days and the lack of sleep, nothing more. Still, she wasn't sure of that.

Like every other hospital in the area, the one they had gone to had been overcrowded. Along with the usual emergencies and illnesses, they had to take in those who had survived the nuke and those who wouldn't. 'Treat 'em & street 'em' was the policy for anyone who didn't require a hospital stay. Since Chris wasn't about to leave Caiti's side, she was almost satisfied with this.

"Michelle," she calls, opening the door. "Jack?"

Silence. They were probably still at work.

Caiti stood beside her, not making a move to sit down and not saying anything.

"C'mon, I'll show you where the guest room is."

---

Walking down the stairs, Chris grips the bannister tightly, feeling as if her knees could give out at any moment. All the days without sleep had caught up with her and even though her mind was racing, she was sure once she laid down on the couch, she'd be out like a light.

At the bottom of the stairs she's about to grab her purse and look for her phone, see if anyone called. Until, that is, she notices the messages on Michelle's phone and remembers she hasn't told Ryan about Caiti yet.

Picking up the phone she walks over to the couch and collapses into it, dialing the numbers. Three rings and she hears her brother's voice.

"Hi, you've reached Ryan Chappelle, I am not avai--"


Chris sighs, dropping her arm and almost wondering if she should try another number or call again. This isn't really a message for voicemail but trying again seems like too much work and she's not sure if she can stay awake that long. At the beep she says, "Ryan, it's me. Listen, um, sorry I didn't call you sooner or that I'm even leaving this message on your machine instead of telling you in person..." she sighs, closing her eyes briefly and focuses.

"We found Caiti and she's fine. You were right," And she almost laughs at that even though it's not that funny. "You were right. Um ... it's a really long story. Caiti's sleeping right now but you can call back. This number. Ok. I love you. Bye."

Clicking the phone off, she stares at it for a minute, nagged by something she was forgetting. A persistent thought just at the back of her mind of something else she wanted to do.

Deciding if it was that important she'd remember it soon enough, Chris sets the phone down, kicks off her shoes and lies back on the couch. All she wants right now is to rest and not think about anything else for a while.

July 16, 2012
1:52 AM

For the first time in her life, Chris was grateful for infomercials.

All the network channels, all the news channels were reporting on the nuke. The channels that weren't had updates scrolling at the bottom of the screen and the only exceptions were the kid channels and a few of the MTV channels. She tried watching MTV, they had changed their regular rotation for a carefully-selected roster of videos with songs that were "somber" enough to reflect the mood of the country. Some were the kind of cheesy pap that Chris had expected and could ignore but some weren't and halfway through the third (or fifth) video she changed the channel.

The only thing she wanted right now was to not think about anything. When they arrived at Michelle's house, it was after 10PM and she went straight upstairs to the guest room. When she wasn't crying, when she didn't have that nauseating feeling of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, she was just tired.

But she couldn't sleep, not when the same questions kept playing in her mind. Where is Caiti? Is she still alive? How will I tell dad? Oh, God, I don't want to tell him. I have to tell Ryan too. Would she be in Milliways when I go back? Is she at a hospital? Is she hurt? Is she dying? Is she in pain? Please, just let it have been quick, if she has to be dead, let it have been quick.

Jack and Michelle had tried. They tried to get her to eat but she couldn't, she'd already been sick when she was at CTU. They tried to talk to her or comfort her but she had asked both to just leave her alone for a bit. They tried calling the hospitals but a million other people all over the country were trying the same thing tonight.

Pressing the mute button, she looked down at the phone she had in her hand. She'd come downstairs with the intention of calling her brother. That was an hour and a half ego and she still hadn't dialed the numbers, still hoping that if she didn't call it wouldn't be real and breaking down in hysterical sobs everytime she tried.

This time she made it, dialling the numbers on his cell phone. After three rings, she was ready to give up but then he answered.

I feel loved when...

The Five Love Languages

My Primary Love Language is Physical Touch

<th colspan="2">My Detailed Results:</th>

Physical Touch:	11
Quality Time:	8
Words of Affirmation:	6
Receiving Gifts:	5
Acts of Service:	0

About this quiz

Unhappiness in relationships is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. It can be helpful to know what language you speak and what language those around you speak.

Tag 3 people so they can find out what their love language is.

Take the Quiz!
Check out the Book

Shocking. /deadpan

July 10, 2012
9:12 AM

After driving around, Chris and Jack found a drugstore nearby that was open. Armed with a short list of supplies, she went in while Jack stayed behind with their attacker.

The store itself was brightly lit and nearly empty, only a few employees inside. It didn't take long for Chris to find everything they needed, the large bottle of extra-strength aspirin being the most important item in their makeshift first-aid kit. Hurrying up to the front of the store, she was anxious to get out of here. It's not until she reached the front of the aisle that she notices the cop standing at the checkout desk, chatting with the clerk.

At least, Chris hopes it's just idle chatter. Ducking back into the aisle, she pretends to be checking out the various kinds of snack bars, even throwing a few into her basket. When she hears the doors of the store open, she peeks around again and watches the cop leave.

It's not until he's completely out of the store that she moves forward, walking up to the check-out desk and unloading her basket. Remembering that she might have a large bruise on her forehead, Chris is careful to keep her head down, pretending to be interested in the magazines nearby.

Once she's out of the store, Chris lets out a sigh of relief and hurries towards the van.

July 9th
7:58 AM

Something was wrong.

The moment she stepped into CTU, before she could even think of why she felt that way, Chris knew something was wrong.

Maybe it was how subdued things seemed. Everyone seemed so quiet, just staring at the computer screens ahead of them. The only sounds coming from the odd phone call and the soft murmur of conversation between Doyle and a few of the other field agents. From the first attack on, CTU seemed to be in a constant swirl of activity. It didn't matter how early or how late, there were people bustling around and talking over each other and the only pause was when there was a news break announcing another attack.

It couldn't be that. She was certain of it. There was nothing on the television screens like that and she'd been listening to the news on her drive over. Nothing could have happened in the few minutes it took for her to get from her car to inside CTU, right?

She also knew that it was possible she was imagining this. Ever since the close call with New York, she hadn't been sleeping well. That Curtis had gone dark and hadn't been heard from in three days wasn't helping. After last night, Detroit, she was certain they'd hear from him and she knew they had tried. The Detroit field office had their hands full after the attack so even though they had his extraction plan ready, it didn't do them much good if they couldn't find him.

As Chris made her way to her desk, Chloe caught her eye for a moment before quickly looking back to the screen. Something in that small gesture, the frown and the worried furrow of her brows, told Chris everything.

"Chris. We need to talk," Buchanan stood by the door of the briefing room and she nodded in response but her gaze went past him. Nadia and Milo were in the room already and she hadn't noticed until just now how dark it was in there and the only light came from the television screen.

"It's Curtis," she heard herself say.

Bill responded, she wasn't quite sure what he said but later she'd remember something about how Curtis' mutilated body had already been recovered. Maybe he had even mentioned that Curtis had been drugged or maybe that's something she wanted to believe. There was no reaction to what was being said, nothing in his unfocused gaze that said he knew what was happening even as his head was pulled back and the blade came closer.

"...family was informed. The video is online, Nadia and Milo are working on a trace. I'm going to need you to contact the Detroit office and brief them on the case and whatever Curtis told you about what was happening there. Can you do that?"

They held up his head and even after everything, she still couldn't believe that had happened to someone she knew.

"Yeah," she said, looking back at Bill. "I can do that." Did they know that his squad had been ambushed in Iraq, his men killed just like that? Chris wondered how many people knew that about Curtis. When he told her a few weeks ago (they'd been talking about Iraq, the wars, the people, being there) she knew it wasn't something he mentioned to a lot of people but it wasn't hard to learn. Something like that was hard to hide.

Later, after she called Detroit, after she left a message for Jack, around lunch when most people were eating and Doyle was packing up Curtis' office, Chris went into the bathroom and cried. They had failed, she had failed. They couldn't save one agent, they couldn't save all the people before him and they would fail again.

She almost wishes Caiti would be there.

It would mean more questions and more problems, yes. They'd still have to explain Caiti having met Jack already in Morocco two years prior and she just knew that wouldn't go over well.

Still, she can't help but wonder if maybe it would be better to get everything out in the open now. (Not everything.) Caiti had always been good at dealing with problems between her sister and brother and it sounded like she and Jack had gotten along pretty well and she hadn't seen her in months...

This had probably been a bad idea but it was too late to back out now.

There is a note propped up on the bedside table when Jack wakes up. Underneat it is a cd with a cover made from "Love Is" comics and pink construction paper.

The note simply reads - "( Jack ).

Chris rolls over in bed, trying to hide from the creeping sun. Suddenly she's sitting up in bed looking for the clock, certain that she's slept through the alarm because it's so sunny out and it must be later in the morning than...

Then she finds the clock, realizes she still has a good while before she has to get up and sighs with relief. Collapsing onto the bed, she pulls the covers over her head and goes back to sleep.

"I'm sorry but there's nothing more I can do."

She could read the frustration and maybe even the glimmer of sympathy on Director Paige's face. There was nothing he could do, Chris couldn't blame him for it and she didn't. That didn't make it any easier to hear.

"I understand, sir," Chris said softly, jaw clenched and her lips barely moved leaving the words to force their way out of her mouth. She was lucky, she supposed, that word about the mission had reached CTU. Lucky that Palmer had called in on her behalf even if it did rankle to accept his help, even is she didn't (and never would) ask.

"Yeah, well..." Paige's gaze traveled to his computer screen and he scratched his mustache absently and for a moment she remembered talking to Tony about something and watching him absently scratch his jaw as he spoke. It was so vivid.

"You can clean your stuff out today, Buchanan doesn't expect you at CTU-LA till tomorrow."

"All right." When he nodded she knew this meeting was over, Chris mumbled 'good-bye' and left.

Nearly seven years of faithful service -- even staying on the day her dad died, just to see the last vial secured, even coming back after she found out the truth about his death -- seven years of accolades and promotions all undone. CTU didn't fire people, like most government jobs it was difficult to be fired. No, CTU transferred people, suspended them and when the transgression was egregious enough - demoted them.

She'd just been bumped several rungs down the ladder.

---

"You can't tell me." There's a dry scoff but no humor in her brother's voice. "Are you kidding me?"

Chris watched the woman disappear behind her office door before she hissed, "It's classified."

The other end went silent, it stretches on for so long that Chris looked at her phone and wondered if the line had gone dead. Or maybe he'd hung up on her.

He hadn't. "Classified." A brief pause and she could almost imagine Ryan's face. "What the fuck are you doing? I thought you worked behind a desk!"

"Something came up," she said, clenching her jaw so hard she can hear the creak of bone and muscle as she does. The woman steps out of her office and gave a nod of her head towards the door down the hall. Chris followed, half-listening for her brother to speak again.

He did. "You're going to have do better than that. You disappear for days without telling anyone and won't tell me what happened?! Caiti had to cancel her vacation because you told her your plans had changed and she couldn't even get a refund for her tickets --"

Whatever he said next, she doesn't know, she stopped listening as soon as the door opened. The presence of the two women caused the dogs to become excited, barking and jumping. Some of the dogs growled and she heard the click of claws against the floor, reminding her of the smell of burnt flesh and the feel of cold mountain air.

"Miss?"

"Chris, are you listening to me?" Her brother's voice broke through her memories and Chris looked up at the woman, then away.

"I'll call you back, Ryan." She snapped the phone shut before he could protest.

"Sorry."

The woman nodded and walked down the row, Chris following though she felt lightheaded and out-of-breath.

"This your dog?" She pointed toward the black-and-tan chihuahua that hopped around in one of the top cages.

Chris sighed audibly, relieved to see Coco again. "Yes."

The woman didn't say anything, didn't move, simply nodded and wrote something down on her pad.

"... Can I take her home now?"

The woman looked up at Chris, her expression dispassionate. "After you abandoned her at the kennel she was turned over here --"

"I didn't abandon her! I left her at the kennel. I was out of the country and couldn't get back."

"You'll have to go through the adoption process again --"

"She's my dog!" This was a nightmare. If her sister was upset about the trip, she didn't want to know how Caiti would react if she lost the dog.

"We can talk about this in my office."

Slack-jawed and disbelieving, Chris just stared at her. Finally, she closed her mouth and straightened her posture, refusing to make a scene. "Fine. Let's talk."

---

It took a few hours for her to fall asleep. Even after running a few laps to burn off some of the nervous energy, Chris still felt restless both in body and mind. It didn't matter if her body felt fatigued, her mind ran with list of things she had to do (talk to Michelle) and memories she wanted to forget.

She had tried calling Michelle twice, both times she got a busy signal and was bumped to voicemail. Chris knew she could have stopped by the house to see how she was doing but she kept finding reasons to put it off till it was too later. She'd have to go tomorrow, after work.

Sleep came for a few hours, dreamless and fitful. She had forgotten to pick up sleeping pills and she wasn't used to being away from everyone. Alone.

As she slept, the door creaked open and she could hear crying --

"Xǐng!"

Chris was wide awake, heart pounding and frozen in the bed as she listened to the silence. Even when she realized where she was, that she was home and safe, the feeling of terror didn't dissipate. She turned on the light and leapt out of bed, going through the apartment quickly and checking all the locks on the doors and windows.

She didn't have her gun anymore and she hated that. She couldn't remember what had happened to it, she assumed the guards took it when she'd been captured and the only thing worse than how vulnerable she felt now without it was that it had been a gift from her father.

In lieu of that, she took a large butcher knife from the kitchen and one of the chairs from the dining room table. The chair went up against the door, right under the doorknob. The knife went on the night table, right in arm's reach.

She left the light on and curled into a fetal position on the bed, watching the door. This wasn't normal behavior, she knew that, but she decided she could allow this for tonight. Just so she could sleep. Tomorrow she could talk to someone. After... Her stomach turned as she thought about tomorrow, about seeing Michelle and all the ways that conversation could go.

Eventually, sleep came for her again and she slipped into the darkness. No dreams, just a flash of blue light and the spray of red blood.