I need someone to show me the things in life that I can't find

[out_of_time]

WHO: Jack Bauer and [OPEN]
WHERE: A gym, a library, and the Pie Hole.
WHEN: The following takes place between June 19th and June 21st. Events occur in real time.
WARNINGS: References to violence and torture.
SUMMARY: A few days in the life of Jack Bauer (mainly consisting of angst, paranoia, and paranoid angst).
FORMAT: Prose with multiple setups- specify which one is being used in the subject line of your reply!


A) A gym, afternoon of the 19th

Jack Bauer was now more than fifty years old. His skin was covered in scars- bullets, knives, burns, acid. He had endured torture, malnutrition, addiction, and at one point, clinical death. The wounds he had taken since being Ported in overlapped with those from his own world. It seemed the longer he continued this life, the more they ached, both old and new. His body was aged, tired, and damaged in ways exercise could not fully restore.

Despite that, Jack insisted on trying to keep himself in a level of fitness equal to the Special Forces soldier he had once been. He had kept his routine up as best as he could at the hospital gym while he was a NOHoPE inmate, and ever since his release he had been pushing it harder. He had found a small, discreet, ImPort-friendly gym, and worked out there whenever he could find the time. This ultimately meant that Jack rarely stuck to his exercise schedule: he was still in the habit of doing things like working twenty-four hour days during a crisis, devoting himself entirely to research on possible Skrulls, or getting himself trapped in a besieged hospital for days on end.

Today Jack had found the time, and was making up for the sessions he had missed by pushing it harder. He ran on the treadmill as though if he just kept it up long enough, he could outpace his mistakes, his regrets, his age. He pummeled a punching bag like it was the embodiment of every terrorist, gangster, assassin, mercenary, serial killer, traitor, mastermind and supervillain he had ever encountered. As he did, he felt the sting in his hands from every blow, felt the shock of impact travel up his arms. He did squats and bench presses and dead lifts until his muscles burned and sweat glistened on his skin.

It was a good kind of burning. He welcomed it. It helped him feel vital, alive, capable. It chased away feelings of helplessness, impotence and guilt. The burning told Jack Bauer that maybe he could still make a difference.


B) A library, evening of the 20th

Working at the Department of Integration was a world apart from being with the CIA or Counter-Terrorist Unit. The D.O.I.’s responsibility had more to do with pamphlets than it did with processing and accessing vast amounts of terrorist-related news. For someone used to having entire databases of classified information at the fingertips of a high-tech network staffed by world-class professionals, having to visit the library to get research done was an adjustment for Jack.

It was the publicity that was the biggest problem. Jack’s curfew conditions meant he couldn’t just visit an open space late at night or early in the morning, when fewer people would be around. He had to visit the library when it was full of people that could recognize him from his exposure in the media. The disgraced ex-cop, the torturer, the international aggressor that had provoked a terror attack against a hospital. It meant putting up with the side-eyed glances, the whispers, some people staring, others turning around and finding somewhere else to browse.

Jack endured it and found a space near the back where he could work in relative privacy, a little desk covered with the papers and maps he needed. He set up a laptop there, his own personal machine: customized, ruggedized, secure. On it he was working on a personal project.

It looked like a map of the world, but it could more accurately be described as a testament to a man’s fixated fear and hatred. The map was covered with a bewildering tangle of different-coloured lines and dots stretching from country to country, some of them running off the map to other concepts: “METRICOG.” “MAJESTY.” “SKRULLS.” Photos of people with names like ‘Redmond,’ ‘DeConnick’, and ‘Williamson’ were among them, many with a red ‘X’ through their faces. A cloud of labels hung around the dots and the lines like a haze, with notes beneath.

“IMAGINARY TIME? ---> FUGUE?”

“VOLCANOES? FLOODS? WHAT HAPPENED TO TIRA FORSAE?”

“DOLVANIA – ZERO’S CHILDREN – RECKONING – IS THERE A CONNECTION?”

“IMBARGO COUNTRIES – WHAT IS THE PATTERN? HOW MANY SKRULLS?”

No matter what the item, no matter how old or new or far-flung it was, every dot, picture, and label on the map had a line arcing upward to a single name hanging above it all, overshadowing the entire world.

VULCANUS


C) The Pie Hole, evening of the 21st

Having to be home after 8 PM had given Jack a new appreciation for his free time outside of work. Sitting at a table in the Pie Hole, he gazed out the window with a frown on his face, picking at a slice of apple walnut pie.

Jack heaved a sigh and tried to force himself to relax, to enjoy his scant time away from things before he had to get home. It didn’t work. There was too much to think about, too much to handle. The NOHoPE tracker on his ankle itched, a constant reminder of things.

His chances of getting rid of the tracker and the rest of his release conditions had all but vanished the instant Reckoning started shooting up NOHoPE. It wasn’t the first time Jack had seen innocent people caught in the crossfire when terrorists came after him bent on revenge. He hoped like hell it would be the last, but he knew it was unlikely. Inwardly, Jack had resigned himself. There was nothing left for him in his own world except the life of a hunted animal. There was little left for him here except working and fighting. This was the way his life had always been, and most likely always would be.

Comments

C

[swordedpast]

Having returned just hours ago from Antarctica, Archer had no intention of relaxing. He needed to check in with the other teams and see if any of them had found something relevant where he, Hank, and Yako had not. He needed to make sure Rin was safe.

Not yet finding Minako in the MAC, he decided to see if she'd returned to her workplace after coming back from Belfast. That was the only reason he was passing by the Pie Hole tonight: not to eat and relax, but to meet up with someone for business purposes.

He passed by the window with a serious face, glancing inside to check for the girl, then started to turn away. Then he stopped. He looked back in. Was that Jack Bauer sitting in there, eating a slice of pie?

Before he could think to stop himself, Archer found his feet taking him inside the pie shop.

[out_of_time]

Jack looked away from the window when the door opened, out of reflex. A small smile touched his face when he saw Archer. He put down his fork. He didn't call out, but waited to see what Archer was doing here.

If the Heroic Spirit was going to do something as mundane and nonviolent as enjoy a piece of pie, Jack would be both surprised and amused. He could have used some amusement in his life at the moment.

[swordedpast]

Looking around, Archer didn't see Minako anywhere just yet. But she was no longer the only reason he'd come in here. Instead, he cast a quick glance over at Jack, then strode up to the counter. After a couple of minutes, he turned back around, now with a plate full of pie in his hand, and strode slowly over to Jack's table.

"Jack Bauer." Again with that full-name greeting. "A strange place to meet you, to be sure."

[out_of_time]

Jack snorted, mildly amazed that this was a thing that was really happening. "I could say the same to you, Archer." Jack knew that almost everyone loved the Pie Hole, but Archer wasn't really the kind of person who hung out in a friendly atmosphere eating pie. He leaned over to pull out a seat at his table for Archer, inviting him. "This isn't the kind of place I would have pictured you in."

He looked at the plate. "What kind did you get?"

[swordedpast]

"Hmph." There was only slight emotion in Archer's voice when he responded, but he lowered his gaze a little; it was suddenly awkward to look Jack in the eye. Still, he sat down across from him. "I was looking for someone. That's all. But it seems I'll be staying a little longer."

A pause.

"It's cherry."

A

[maggotbone]

Callie was planning on getting a good workout in. She grabbed her water bottle and towel, spending a good hour on the treadmill. After she was finished she toweled off. She headed towards the free weights when she noticed Jack working a sweat with the punching bag.

Well, well~

She took a drink of her water, and turned her head. "Wow. Not holding anything back, are you?"

[out_of_time]

"Hey, Callie." Jack paused long enough to grunt out a greeting, not even looking her way. His focus was on the bag, eyes narrowed as though it was a target he was drawing a bead on. His fists smacked as they slammed into it again and again.

The chain of blows became an outright hail before Jack gave a final cry and hit the bag hard enough to send it swinging backwards. Then he backed off for the moment, panting, hands on his knees, and then he turned his head to see Callie.

sdhf sorry, Inbox done goofed again

[maggotbone]

She rose an eyebrow. "So... what'd the bag do? Had an affair with your wife? Killed your best friend?" Callie was clearly amused... acting a little more impish than usual, probably to mask the fact that seeing him viciously attack the punching bag was oddly appealing.

[out_of_time]

"Just trying to keep in shape," he lied, looking away from her again. Jack's voice was hoarse from the effort he'd put into 'just trying to keep in shape.' The bag's chain squeaked a bit as it kept swinging like a pendulum. If he noticed the mischief in Callie's eyes, he gave no sign.

"What about you?" He asked, changing the subject. "I didn't know you worked out."

[maggotbone]

"Of course I do. I actually really enjoy it. Besides... my boyfriend's a cook, and a real damn good one at that. There's only so much sex one man can take." She laughed, giving a shrug. "Keeping in shape too. You never know." Callie smirked slightly. "Want some company?"

[onetouch]

Ned looked out over his Pie Hole patrons and heaved a sigh of his own. He noticed Jack, of course, but hadn't wanted to burden his friend with his problems on top of everything he was going through. And so he'd hung back. Cleaned the kitchen, made pies. But he had been keeping an eye on Jack Bauer since he'd walked through the door.

The Pie maker didn't even necessarily think he was being all that sneaky about it--he was sure Jack had noticed him noticing, but he had to give them both ample time and space to come together again. It should be as organic as the organic caramel drizzle in Jack's pie.

But maybe the time for waiting had passed. Maybe he had to make them both a little uncomfortable to move past the heaviness they both were feeling.

That was how Ned the pie maker came to be sitting across from Jack Bauer, twenty-nine minutes since he'd first sat down. Instead of speaking, Ned sat silently, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, and waited for Jack to start them off. He swallowed the dread slowly clawing its way up his throat and hoped for the best.

[out_of_time]

Jack had honestly been surprised to have been in the Pie Hole for almost half and hour and not have Ned come to fuss over him or ask about cases or push new pies at him. That, and the look on his face when he did come over, clued Jack in that he wasn't the only person around tonight doing some sighing and brooding. So he plunged right in.

"Ned, is something wrong?"

[onetouch]

"I." But the word instantly gets lodged in his throat, rendering him speechless and a little wide-eyed. He had two major grievances to air, and whether he started with Zatanna's sudden disappearance or Ozzie's dead-again cocktail waitress, he really wasn't looking a simple conversation here. "--You first."

[out_of_time]

He gave Ned a long, considering look. Then Jack nodded. "All right."

He took in a deep breath, let it out. "I keep thinking about what happened at NOHoPE," he said. "About the people who died there, who were tortured. Some of them were friends of mine."

"People have said that I'm to blame." He looked at his hands for a moment, then returned to Ned's eyes. "And I have to face the fact that they're not wrong. That attack would never have happened if it wasn't for me."

[onetouch]

His hand reached out across the table, but he didn't touch Jack's hand. It rested nearby as he chanced a look back over at his friend. "That doesn't mean you're to blame exactly. It just means you created the circumstances in which... it occurred."

He frowned because yeah, that really wasn't much better. Resting his chin on his other hand, Ned thought about NOHoPE again. He had already thought about it from all angles, but this--it seemed--was one he hadn't considered. Jack, despite his flaws, had always seemed so impenetrable to Ned, and it bothered him tremendously to see him so bothered.

"How's the pie?" The question came after a long silence, and Ned allowed a tiny smile to show through the hurt he was feeling, for himself and Jack alike.

A

[deformer]

Rua's only been to the gym a handful of times - he found it in an effort to spend more time outside and less time in the garage, trying to work on stuff that didn't go anywhere. Maybe spending a little more time exploring the city would give him some better ideas or something. Whatever. Point was, he had discovered the imPort-friendly gym and it had appealed to him enough to come back a few more times.

He came to a treadmill and hopped on - he started with just a slow trot to warm himself up. Then, he noticed someone else, an older guy, had already gotten started on the adjacent treadmill. On a lark, Rua turned up the speed to match the older guy's pace and ran in step with him. Rua was a spry young lad, but Jack's endurance, he did not have. At first, he felt pretty good. Inevitably, he began struggling to keep up, but by that point he felt like he was locked in competition with the older guy and to slow down would be to admit defeat - something unpalatable to someone so hyper-competitive. It wasn't long before his lack of stamina belied his indomitable spirit, however, and he was about ready to give up.

"Geez!" He sputtered and reached out for the console to slow the treadmill down. When his reach wasn't enough, he flailed his right hand at the console instead - a small showering of blue sparks and a light buzzing noise came from it, and when the sparks hit the console, the treadmill slowed and eventually stopped, allowing Rua to safely disembark, taking a seat on the edge. He'd at least been spared the indignity of being flung off while the thing was still going at full speed. After taking several gulps of air and water, he glanced up at Jack, then frowned and crossed his arms.

"...you win," he conceded, none-too-pleased to do so. Apparently it had become a pretty serious competition between the two of them without him ever thinking to get Jack's consent.

[out_of_time]

Jack had been lost in his own dismal thoughts the whole time, and didn't even notice the green-haired teeenager, let alone that he was in a competition with said teenager. He ran on oblivious to Rua's exertions until he suddenly saw sparks on the treadmill next to him. Jack's immediate reaction was to slam the 'stop' button on his own treadmill, in case this was a bomb or a fire or some other variety of the crap that followed him throughout life.

He dismounted the treadmill, staggering a little as his feet hit the floor- Rua hadn't been the only one pushing himself a bit too hard trying to outrun Jack Bauer. There was no sign of a fire or a bomb or anything other than a perturbed teenager frowning at him. Jack was now officially confused.

"What just happened? What do you mean, 'I win'?" He asked.

[deformer]

Rua blinked a couple times, slowly quirking an eyebrow up in Jack's direction.

"Uhhh, the race?" He pointed at Jack's treadmill, then his own. "You lasted longer than I did, so," he paused to take in a couple breaths. He was really winded. Then, he gestured at Jack. "You win." The mix of confusion and vague annoyance in his expression was evident for several more seconds before realization seemed to peek in, just somewhat.

"....I said we were racing like, five minutes ago, right?"

[out_of_time]

Jack sat down on the step to the treadmill. There were a few silent pants as he considered the possibility that he had actually been brooding so hard that he'd completely tuned out someone talking to him. He dismissed it- his survival instincts were better than that.

He shook his head. "You didn't say anything, kid." He sized Rua up: a green-haired teenager who looked shockingly similar to Ruka, who Jack had spoken to a few times. He wondered if they might be related.

"Why did you want to race me?"

[deformer]

"Oh. Whoops!" He said nonchalantly. It didn't bug him that much that he had forgotten to said anything - from his point of view, the race had happened anyway, the other guy just hadn't known. But now he did, and Rua had lost, so it was kind of a moot point all around.

"I dunno!" He gave an equally nonchalant shrug. "I saw you were going pretty fast. I figured it'd be a good way to push myself to try and go just as fast!" He paused to take a swig from his water bottle. He still looked a bit annoyed that he couldn't keep up.

"How'd you get that fast, anyway?"

oops supposed i should say B and BACKDATED

[fronttowardenemy]

Resources were essential. Frank had no way of knowing whether or not texts were trustworthy in this place. Little details of this world seemed different -- New York yet not New York -- and he wanted to know where those differences began and ended. History was the way to start, and texts would provide the better angle. Online resources got muddy; he wanted to see the older records they had written down, unedited.

That was where he found Bauer, and he couldn't say he was surprised.

He lingered for a moment, watching Bauer from a distance. The mess of information seemed cluttered, but it wasn't disorganized -- the man had a method.

"Make yourself dizzy," he remarks.

[out_of_time]

Reflex drove Jack to immediately reach up to close the laptop when he heard a voice behind him, but he stopped as he realized it was Frank. Not someone he could trust absolutely, but absolutely someone he could trust with anything that involved hurting terrorists.

He looked over his shoulder at the Punisher. "There's a lot to process," he admitted. "But I can manage."

Jack turned back to his work, keys clacking, but he didn't show any sign of wanting Frank gone. "I wouldn't have expected to see you in a place like this," he said. "You never struck me as an academic. Are you here looking for someone?" He hoped not. Frank executing someone in the library would put a serious crimp into his research.

[fronttowardenemy]

"Don't be stupid," said Frank bluntly. He wasn't sure if Jack was just taking the piss or not. "Here for the same reason you are, I'd imagine." That was more of a mouthful of words than Frank usually dispenses. It was easier to talk to Bauer, knowing he was understood -- at least on some level.

Bauer was miles ahead of him, however, and to be honest, the man probably was a better resource than anything Frank could find in this place.

Frank came closer, watching over Jack's shoulder as he worked. This was a familiar routine: crouching over another man as screens lit up and keys clattered. Frank shoved that comparison aside outright.

"What are you looking for?"

[out_of_time]

Jack grunted his acknowledgement of the rebuke without turning around. He had the same sensation when dealing with Frank. The differences between the two men were significant, but what they had in common- the violence, the rage, the unsleeping drive- was a common ground Jack found with very few.

"Patterns. Vulcanus doesn't do anything without a plan," he said, his voice hushed and intense. "I think that everything they've been doing has been leading up to some kind of endgame. I need to figure out what it is." He paused, clicked on a dot over Dolvania, typed in a bit of economic information. "Before we run out of time."

[fronttowardenemy]

Frank was quiet for a moment, watching as Jack scanned the information and worked away at it. Frank was missing important context to understand the most of it, but some things stood out in any situation, no matter how it was dressed up.

Frank slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved a flash drive, tossing it onto the table at Jack's hand.

"Make a copy." His tone was flat, offering no space for argument. "Give me a week."