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Aug. 1st, 2006 09:50 am"I know, I...I'm sorry. I love you too, sweetheart."
There's a click and all Chris could do for the first few moments is stare at the phone, her mind refusing to believe this was happening. She looks around the room, still in bed, still nude and suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable. Sheet wrapped around her, she tumbles out of bed, going first to the door to make sure it's locked.
She then grabs some clothes from her bag and dresses quickly, her hands shaking and she thinks the last time she got dressed this fast was during an air raid. Her heart is pounding, the adrenaline's kicking in as she races around the hotel room, throwing clothes together in the bags. Thank God, they hadn't unpacked yet.
It feels like she's taking too long, moving too slow and she feels like she's been up there for twenty minutes when it hasn't even been ten. Everything packed, she races down the stairs, ignoring the confused calls of the owner.
Steam Clock in Gastown. Steam Clock in Gastown. Chris starts the engine, using the car's computer navigation to find the place as she drives. Why didn't I bring a gun? Jack was in trouble and she was in some foreign city, withouy a gun or even her CTU badge.
Jack's in trouble.
Spotting the clock she pulls up across the street, realizing she expected Jack to be there already.
He said forty-five minutes, didn't he?
He did. And right now it hadn't even been thirty.
Chris gets out of the car, looking around all the while. There was a cafe, kitty-corner from the clock and she wonders if Jack had meant that one in particular. As she walked closer, hands still trembling, she started hoping he'd be inside.
He wasn't.
On autopilot, she waits by one of the tall tables by the window. A waitress asks her if she wants anything, Chris tells her she's waiting for a friend. She doesn't even last five minutes before she walks out the door...
And hears her name.
Looking around, breath caught in her throat, she can't see him anywhere. Then she hears the same voice and feels every ounce of relief drain from her. It wasn't Jack. Looking at the clock again and her own watch, she crosses the street to stand in front of the clock so Jack could see her. He told her to wait somewhere safe but no one was going to attack her in the middle of a busy street during broad daylight. Even if they would, she didn't care right now. Right now, the way she felt, she'd invite them to try.
It had been forty-five minutes since he called now. Chris paced in front of the clock, standing at the corner to look down every street, almost walking in circles. Maybe he's hurt. Maybe he went back to the inn. Maybe he's...
She frowns tightly, refusing to follow that thought. It feels colder now, even though it's sunny out, and her stomachs in knots and her throat feels tight. Chris wraps her arms across her chest, continuing her pacing and looking, reciting a silent prayer. It had been just over an hour now since he called.
That's only fifteen minutes and he's on foot. He'll be here.
"He'll be here," she whispers to herself, biting on her nail, still pacing. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices a man looking at her. She snaps her head around to look back, wondering if they're watching her for a reason, but the man startles, looks down and scurries away. With a small pang of embarrassment she realizes she must look odd. Still she paces, still continuing in circles, looking down every street.
Seventy-five minutes now and she starts wondering who could have been chasing him. The Chinese? Americans? Maybe even members of Deschanel's group, out for revenge. It could be anyone. Chris fights back the hysteria, doesn't let herself think about the possibilities. He had to return because she couldn't imagine leaving without him, going home. She didn't want to think about going back to the bar, having to tell people what happened. Having to tell Angie and Kim and no, No, she couldn't.
Oh God. I don't want to tell Kim. I can't tell her.
Her throat tightens and she looks at the clock again, it's been an hour and a half. She can't believe that, how could that much time have passed already? Maybe the clock was wrong, her watch said the same thing but it didn't feel like it had been that long. With little humor, she realizes it was twenty-four hours ago that she had arrived in Vancouver, nervous but for a different reason.
Darting across the street she heads back inside the cafe, looking around for Jack but knowing this time she wouldn't see him. Chris stops a waitress to ask the time, automatically thanking her when she confirms what she already knew. The waitress asks if she's all right but Chris is already halfway towards the door.
Five more minutes. Just wait five more.
Five turns into seven, then ten and now she knows she's stalling. Chris takes out her phone, dialing the numbers slowly, still pacing, still looking, still hoping.
"Chloe, it's Chris Chappelle." Her composure crumbles, her voice breaking into a sob because it's real now.
"I need your help. They found Jack."
There's a click and all Chris could do for the first few moments is stare at the phone, her mind refusing to believe this was happening. She looks around the room, still in bed, still nude and suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable. Sheet wrapped around her, she tumbles out of bed, going first to the door to make sure it's locked.
She then grabs some clothes from her bag and dresses quickly, her hands shaking and she thinks the last time she got dressed this fast was during an air raid. Her heart is pounding, the adrenaline's kicking in as she races around the hotel room, throwing clothes together in the bags. Thank God, they hadn't unpacked yet.
It feels like she's taking too long, moving too slow and she feels like she's been up there for twenty minutes when it hasn't even been ten. Everything packed, she races down the stairs, ignoring the confused calls of the owner.
Steam Clock in Gastown. Steam Clock in Gastown. Chris starts the engine, using the car's computer navigation to find the place as she drives. Why didn't I bring a gun? Jack was in trouble and she was in some foreign city, withouy a gun or even her CTU badge.
Jack's in trouble.
Spotting the clock she pulls up across the street, realizing she expected Jack to be there already.
He said forty-five minutes, didn't he?
He did. And right now it hadn't even been thirty.
Chris gets out of the car, looking around all the while. There was a cafe, kitty-corner from the clock and she wonders if Jack had meant that one in particular. As she walked closer, hands still trembling, she started hoping he'd be inside.
He wasn't.
On autopilot, she waits by one of the tall tables by the window. A waitress asks her if she wants anything, Chris tells her she's waiting for a friend. She doesn't even last five minutes before she walks out the door...
And hears her name.
Looking around, breath caught in her throat, she can't see him anywhere. Then she hears the same voice and feels every ounce of relief drain from her. It wasn't Jack. Looking at the clock again and her own watch, she crosses the street to stand in front of the clock so Jack could see her. He told her to wait somewhere safe but no one was going to attack her in the middle of a busy street during broad daylight. Even if they would, she didn't care right now. Right now, the way she felt, she'd invite them to try.
It had been forty-five minutes since he called now. Chris paced in front of the clock, standing at the corner to look down every street, almost walking in circles. Maybe he's hurt. Maybe he went back to the inn. Maybe he's...
She frowns tightly, refusing to follow that thought. It feels colder now, even though it's sunny out, and her stomachs in knots and her throat feels tight. Chris wraps her arms across her chest, continuing her pacing and looking, reciting a silent prayer. It had been just over an hour now since he called.
That's only fifteen minutes and he's on foot. He'll be here.
"He'll be here," she whispers to herself, biting on her nail, still pacing. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices a man looking at her. She snaps her head around to look back, wondering if they're watching her for a reason, but the man startles, looks down and scurries away. With a small pang of embarrassment she realizes she must look odd. Still she paces, still continuing in circles, looking down every street.
Seventy-five minutes now and she starts wondering who could have been chasing him. The Chinese? Americans? Maybe even members of Deschanel's group, out for revenge. It could be anyone. Chris fights back the hysteria, doesn't let herself think about the possibilities. He had to return because she couldn't imagine leaving without him, going home. She didn't want to think about going back to the bar, having to tell people what happened. Having to tell Angie and Kim and no, No, she couldn't.
Oh God. I don't want to tell Kim. I can't tell her.
Her throat tightens and she looks at the clock again, it's been an hour and a half. She can't believe that, how could that much time have passed already? Maybe the clock was wrong, her watch said the same thing but it didn't feel like it had been that long. With little humor, she realizes it was twenty-four hours ago that she had arrived in Vancouver, nervous but for a different reason.
Darting across the street she heads back inside the cafe, looking around for Jack but knowing this time she wouldn't see him. Chris stops a waitress to ask the time, automatically thanking her when she confirms what she already knew. The waitress asks if she's all right but Chris is already halfway towards the door.
Five more minutes. Just wait five more.
Five turns into seven, then ten and now she knows she's stalling. Chris takes out her phone, dialing the numbers slowly, still pacing, still looking, still hoping.
"Chloe, it's Chris Chappelle." Her composure crumbles, her voice breaking into a sob because it's real now.
"I need your help. They found Jack."
