geeky_agent | (no subject)

Current Mood: melancholy

(no subject)

June 18, 2011

Chris didn't know why she was here.

It was almost five and still hot out, the gentle breeze making the heat bearable. Her dress suit was some light wool-silk blend that had left her cold in the office but was a comfort while standing under the afternoon sun.

She'd come from work, a meeting at Division and she'd been sent to represent District while the Director was out of town. On her way to work, she had passed by the cemetery where Jack was "buried".

Chris had never visited his grave before and wasn't sure why she was doing so now, she wasn't any closer to Jack here than she was at CTU. Perhaps, less so.

With a sigh, she laid the bouquets down. Both small, simple and white, one at Teri's grave and one at Jack's.

I miss you.

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He gives her a dry smile. "Yeah, your Caiti. It figures that out of the thousands of people I could have run into, it would be your sister. We even played a game of chess."

That is so weird.

"You didn't...no, why would you," she mumbles to herself.

Chris furrows her brows and after a moment of thinking finally says, "I didn't know Caiti could play chess."

"One of her friends was teaching her. She was pretty good at it," he says, scratching at a spot of something on his jeans.

He doesn't ask what she had been about to say, as it's rather obvious--of course he wouldn't have told Caiti about who he was, or that he knew her sister.

"Really? She was never that interested in chess before."

There were a million things she probably should be asking but none came to mind. Chris was still surprised she was sitting here, having this conversation with Jack after so long of not seeing him.

God, I missed him.

While at a redlight, she grabs her cell phone from her purse. "I should call so it's ready when we get there. What do you want on your pizza?"

He shrugs. "Maybe there wasn't much else to do in her free time or she just liked spending the time with her friend."

He glances over at her with a small smile. "Anything, as long as it's not anchovies. I'm not picky."

She smiles at that, dialing the number with one hand. "Are green peppers and sausage all right?"

"Sounds great to me," he says, his stomach rumbling a little at just the thought of pizza.

She gives a small nod, trying to focus all her attention on the road when someone picks up on the other end. Chris hated driving and talking on the phone.

It doesn't take long, thankfully, for her to place the order. When she's done she snaps the phone shut. "Should be ready when we get there."

"Good, I'm starving," he says, lightly.

There's a short pause before he asks, "So how have you been settling in, back here in L.A.? I'm assuming there are still a lot of the same people working at CTU that you knew from the last time you were here."

Part of him would like to ask if she's seeing anyone else, but then another part of him doesn't really want to know.

"Yeah, there is. Though there's been the usual "restructuring" of the place." Sometimes working at CTU was like playing a game of musical chairs.

She sighs. "It's tough. I never really cared much for LA." Though some of that could be the reason why she had to move cross-country last time. "But the job's interesting. Keeps me busy."

"What kind of restructuring?" he asks, wondering how things have changed; who's moved on, who's been fired, who's been shifted where.

"Not too busy, I hope. You don't want to burn out."

"Some people were demoted, some promoted. Bill Buchanan got demoted down to CTU-LA," she says with a sigh.

Chris liked Bill, she worked with him briefly back at CTU-NY, he was a good guy.

"No, not too busy. It's actually been pretty calm."

"Well Bill's a good guy, good at handling a crisis and working on the front lines. Maybe he's where he's most needed, really," he says, thoughtfully.

He glances over at her with a wry smile. "Yeah, this is the one business where having not much to do is definitely a good thing."

"I guess that's one way of looking at it," she says, glancing at the mirror before changing lanes.

"I just don't think it's fair but," Chris sighs, "most of the new people aren't so bad. My boss at District is new, I think he used to work at Homeland Security. He's all right."

"No, it's not fair. Maybe it's for the best, though. What's you new boss' name?" he asks. He might know them after all.

"Edward Paige. Kind of tall, salt-and-pepper hair."

She makes an absent gesture with her left hand. "Has an annoying tendency to smack his lips a lot when he talks. At first I thought he was being ... rude but he does it around everyone."

He laughs softly. "Yeah, I've met him a couple times, and that drove me up the wall. I'm not exactly sure why, but it did. Just one of those odd little tics people have, I guess."

"I've almost learned to ignore it but it's still so odd."

She pulls into a space in front of the pizzeria and parks. Unbuckling her seatbelt Chris mumbles, "I hope our order's ready."

Jack glances at his watch as he unbuckles his seat belt. "Should be; it's probably been long enough."

"Yeah. They're usually pretty good about time." She opens the door - slowly, as to not scrape it on the curb - and steps out of the car.

He climbs out and follows her up the sidewalk, though he picks up the pace just long enough to open the door for her.

"Well really, I prefer it if they're pretty good about the quality of their pizza," he says, with a small, teasing smile.

She smiles right back. "What, you never heard the saying, 'pizza's like sex, even when it's bad it's still pretty good'?"

And now Chris wonders if she's being too nervous or if part of her brain is trying to sabotage her.

Jack's eyes widen for a moment and a blush starts creeping onto his cheeks. Like he really needed her to mention that particular three-letter word when already he's having a hard time keeping those memories at bay.

"Uh...no, actually. But then I've had some pretty bad pizza," he says, stammering just a little.

"Yeah, it's a stupid saying," Chris answers quickly, barely glancing at him. She stands at the counter and folds her hands, hoping someone is along soon.

He tries not to smack himself; smooth, Bauer, very smooth.

"Then again it probably doesn't help that I was getting pizza from some little dive in...I think it was in Bosnia, or Albania. I can't remember," he says, his voice calmer this time, resting his hand on her shoulder for a moment.