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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

She smiles and her skin feels a little warmer at the touch. "Think it would be better, being so close to Italy and all."

Before she can say anything more, one of the clerks comes up with their pizza. Chris pays him, exact change, and grabs the box. "Thanks."

"Here, I can hold onto that," he says, holding his hands out for the box once they're out the door.

She hands the box over to him, glad to have her hands free to grab for her keys. "Thanks."

Once they're at the car, she unlocks the doors. "Do you want to set it the back or carry it on your lap?"

"I can carry it. I'll protect it with my life," he says with a teasing grin.

In a mock-serious voice she says, "You'd better."

She opens the door, climbing in and waiting for him to sit down before asking, "So where else did you go while out?"

"Mainly around the Meditteranean," he says, shifting the pizza box on his lap so he can fasten his seatbelt. "Spain, Italy, Greece, through the Balkans, then across North Africa. That was only for a few months, though. After that I settled in Canada."

She briefly looks over at him before pulling the car out of the space. "Really? Where in Canada?"

"About two hours northeast of Toronto, near a place called Lakefield. I have a cabin on a small lake, there," he says, shifting the pizza box so it's not searing the top of his thighs.

The shifting is noted. "I think there's a towel in the back seat somewhere if you want to grab it."

She'd grab it for him but yeah, kinda preoccupied. "That sounds nice." Though Canada was a surprising choice. Chris would have thought he'd choose somewhere more out of the way. But the cabin out in the woods seemed to suit Jack. "It's a good thing you're not closer to Toronto. After what happened last month, the security must be tight in that city."

Jack shifts again, though this time it's not because of the pizza. "Yeah, they got quite the wake-up call with that one. It was a pretty close call, too," he says, a little slowly.

Chris gets the strangest, niggling thought in the back of her mind. But, surely, it's not possible.

"It was a good thing the Canadian authorities figured it out before anything happened. Close call."

"Yeah, it's a good thing they did," he says, still rather shifty. "I imagine it'll be pretty different when I cross the border this time."