[[ los angeles ]]

[justdidntseeit]

[ tick-tock, tick-tock ]

June 10, 2005
Los Angeles, Calif.
10:21 p.m.

Lights are still flashing, red and blue and blue and red, as she watches the agents ready the Cessna.

“I tried to take care of her after our mom died — sometimes I felt more like a mother than a sister. At least, I tried to be.”

Yet Marie did this — helped arm a nuclear bomb. A nuclear bomb that can’t be dismantled, that has to be flown to the Mojave before the timer hits zero.

She feels cold all over.

There’s a knock against her shoulder, and she turns.

“Sorry,” the man mutters, stifling a cough. Even half in shadow, Kate can see he’s pallid and sweating. “Excuse me.”

He keeps walking, and Kate frowns at the back of his gray suit jacket. He looks like —

George?

She opens her mouth to call out to him, but Agent Baker touches her arm.

“Miss Warner, we need you to stay back here.”

She looks toward George’s retreating form once more before turning to Baker with a nod.

---

10:57 p.m.

The quiet of the SUV is a novelty after so much noise, so many bullets and sirens and so much screaming. An almost unbearable novelty.

“He mentioned he had a daughter.”

(She can still hardly believe that Jack is flying the plane.)

“Yeah,” Baker replies, his voice just as soft, eyes on the traffic on Sunset. “I think he does.”

“Do you know her name? How old she is?”

(She can still see Boo’s crumpled, tear-streaked face.)

“I don’t, I’m sorry.” Baker glances over. “We don’t know each other all that well.”

She nods, lifting a hand to her earlobe. The bleeding stopped a few hours ago, but it’s still tender.

“She’ll be provided for, though? I mean, the government — they’ll make sure she’s taken care of?”

“I’m sure they will,” Baker nods, and she can hear the placating note in his voice.

She lets out a silent sigh.

“How much longer?”

He lifts one hand from the wheel to check his watch.

“Coupla minutes.”

A couple of minutes, and a nuclear bomb will explode in the desert.

She leans her head against the seat and closes her eyes.

And Jack will be dead. Because of Marie. Because I didn’t see what was wrong.

---

11:41 p.m.

She’s grateful to change. The collar and shoulder of her shirt are stiff with dried blood.

With a slight grimace, she tosses the shirt in the trash and wipes blood from her collarbone and chest with a wet paper towel. The left cup of her bra is stained with red splotches, but there’s nothing she can do about that now. She pulls on the white T-shirt someone had pressed into her hands and shrugs into the CTU-issue sweatshirt; her hands are cold, fingers too numb and clumsy to zip it at the moment. She rejoins Baker just outside the women’s locker room.

“Miss Warner, if you’ll come with me, you can see your father.”

She frowns as they walk along CTU’s concrete corridor.

“Why’s he still here?”

“He hasn’t been released.”

“But he didn’t do anything,” she protests as they enter a holding room. “Dad — ”

She’s in his arms before she realizes either of them has moved.

Turning to Baker, her eyes are hopeful.

“Could we have a few minutes?”

“I need to be in the room,” he says, leaning against the far wall. “I’m sorry.”

Her dad rubs her upper arm through her sleeve, reminding her how cold she is, how cold this place is.

“Do you know where Marie is?”

“They took her to a military hospital in San Diego. She’s okay,” Kate’s quick to add, “but from there … I don’t know.”

I don’t know anything anymore.

Still holding Kate’s hand, he sinks into the metal folding chair, and she settles into the chair across from him.

“This … ” He trails off, aging ten years in the space between two breaths. “This is all my fault.”

“No.” She shakes her head. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Neither was I.” She leans across the table and grips her father’s hand between both of hers. “But she needs us both to be there for her now. Especially now.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, sweetheart.” His eyes are soft and sad. “Not after what she’s done.”

She sets her jaw as her chest constricts.

“You’re still her father.”

She watches his gaze move past her, going somewhere she can’t quite see, and then he squeezes her hand.

“I am so glad your mother was spared this.”

She bites the inside of her cheek.

“We’re going to be okay.” She moves from her chair to wrap an arm around his shoulders while he only nods. “We are.”

Her dad doesn’t say anything in response.

She’s still seeing the vacant hurt in his eyes a few minutes later, walking through the bullpen with Baker.

Then she stops short.

“Jack?”

“Kate.”

Something so familiar about that voice ...

She blinks, but he’s still there.

“I didn’t think that — I thought you weren’t coming back.”

I thought it was a suicide mission.

He ducks his head.

“I didn’t think I was, either.”

She shakes her head, almost at a loss.

“How … ?”

“It’s a long story.”

And then it clicks.

“Kate?”

“I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Uh, Kate Warner, right?”

“Yeah. You’ll have to forgive me, but you’re going to have to refresh my memory. You’re … ?”

“Jack Bauer. We’ve met, but … it’s a long story."

They’ve already met — they met during Kate’s first night in the bar. This Jack is a little younger, his features a little less lined, his face a little fuller, the hair a little different, but … it’s him.

She’s careful to keep her expression blank.

“But everything’s okay, right?” She won’t press for details, at least not right now. “They said the bomb was detonated safely.”

“Everything’s fine — it’s gonna be fine.” His eyes flick to her ear. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She wonders who she’s trying to convince more. “My dad’s still a little shaken up.”

“I’m sorry — ”

“Miss Warner?” Baker’s voice breaks in.

“I have to go,” she tells Jack, almost apologetically.

“She needs to be debriefed,” Baker explains, placing one hand on Kate’s elbow.

“Okay,” Jack nods. “See you in a little while.”

---

11:58 p.m.

She leans her elbows on the table and stifles a yawn, resisting the urge to close her eyes. Baker will be back in just a second; she can’t risk nodding off in her seat.

“Kate.”

She turns at Jack’s voice as he puts a hand on her shoulder.

“I need you to come with me now.”

“I still have another hour or two with Agent Baker, then I have — my dad — ”

“This is urgent.” His fingers curl around her upper arm. “C’mon.”

“What’s going on?” She stiffens when he lifts her out of her seat. “Jack?”

They’re already moving through the bullpen.

“I’ll explain in the car.”

“Jack — ”

She has to look down to keep her feet as they rush down a stairwell, and then a man is passing Jack a set of keys.

“Lower level, space eleven.”

“Thanks — c’mon, Kate.”

They’re nearing the door to the parking garage when a side door swings open.

“Where the hell do you think you’re goin’, Jack?”

It’s Tony Almeida, the agent who questioned Reza that afternoon. Kate looks between the two of them in confusion. She takes a step back, placing her palm flat against the cinderblock wall.

“I don’t have time to explain.”

“Let’s find the time.” He raises a gun and thumbs off the safety.

Kate’s heart thuds against her ribs.

“My god, what’re you doing?”

“Kate, stay against the wall. Tony, put down the gun.”

“Not till you tell me what you’re doin’, Jack.”

Jack looks at Kate, and she’s not sure what she sees in his eyes before he turns back to Tony.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” He takes a half-step closer to Tony. “Who do you think you’re kidding here, Tony? You’re not gonna shoot me. Put the gun down.”

Tony’s aim doesn’t waver.

“Put the gun down,” Jack repeats, and then he’s grabbing for it. His fist connects with Tony’s jaw, and Kate brings a hand to her mouth as Tony falls. She sees his ankle twist beneath him as he hits the floor.

“Kate, c’mon, we gotta go.” Jack grabs her wrist hard enough to bruise. “Now.”

Still hesitating, she glances back at Tony on the ground and groaning.

“Jack — ”

“Let’s go.”